The Potter Twins and the Goblet of Fire {4}

7. The Quidditch World Cup

"Raised on Biggie and Nirvana, we are the new Americana" ~ New Americana, Halsey

The climb up to our seats seems neverending, and the only thing that stops me from giving up is that with every flight of purple carpeted stairs we pass, the louder the cheers seem to get, sparking the excitement in my chest.

"Blimey, Dad," Ron complains. "How far up are we?"

I grab onto Ron's shoulder and heave myself up off the steps, looking over the entrance to the Top Box, where all the Ministry officials will be seated.

"Well, put it this way," comes an annoyingly familiar voice, "if it rains you'll be the first to know."

Just below us, about to enter the Top Box stands Lucius Malfoy, dressed in fine black robes. Beside him stands Draco, wearing a smart black suit, Harry's enemy since our first year at Hogwarts, and, my boyfriend since last year. It caused a serious rift in our friendship circle, especially between Tay and I.

I can't manage a smile, as I can tell how inferior the Weasley's feel to them, in their black suits. Even I feel extremely self-conscious in my old, ripped jeans and painted face.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box," Draco boasts, "by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco," Lucius scolds, shoving Draco with the end of his cane. "There's no need with these people."

The sympathy I felt for Draco disappears, and it's in place is a burning hatred for his father.

"I'd rather be in the worst seats, but surrounded by the people I love, then in the best seats surrounded by a group of pompous old men," I say heatedly, before beginning to herd the Weasley's away.

As I make a move to turn away too, Mr. Malfoy catches my hand on the railing with his cane. We all look back at him, and Mr. Weasley puts his hand protectively on my shoulder. Draco looks extremely anxious, staring at his father pointedly.

"Do enjoy yourself, won't you?" he sais slyly. "While you can."

Glaring at him, he finally removes his cane from my hand we continue on our way without a backwards glance.

"Come on up," Mr. Weasley shouts over the crowd as we reach our seats. "Take your seats. I told you these seats would be worth waiting for."

Accompanied by Cedric and his father again, we file into our seats at the very top of the stadium. Standing in-between Harry and George, I gape at the size of the stadium and the sea of red and green spectators.

Suddenly,the Irish team swoop in right over our heads in a sea of green and white.

"It's the Irish!" George screams. "There's Troy!"

"And Mullet!" Fred shouts.

"And Moran!" I add, jumping up and down ecstatically.

A series of fireworks erupt above us, forming a gigantic, dancing leprechaun in the sky.

"Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!"

As the Irish team takes their places, the Bulgarians zoom into the stadium in a flash of red and black.

"Here comes the Bulgarians!"

"Yes!"

They break through the dancing leprechaun and cause the Irish to break formation.

As the team flies around the stadium, one breaks away and begins performing tricks at a very high speed.

"Who's that?" Harry asks above the roar.