PRANKSTER [1] ↝ C. DIGGORY

twenty-five

"Blimey, Dad!" Ron exclaimed as the group began their ascent up the many stairs housed within the massive stadium of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup, his eyes wandering up the seemingly-endless space over rows and rows of spectator boxes to the top of the arena. "How far up are we?"

"Well, put it this way." a smug voice drawled from behind them, causing Clary to turn around and see the smirking face of Lucius Malfoy on the landing below them, Draco following only mere steps behind his father. "If it rains, you'll be the first to know."

"Father and I are in the Minister's Box." Draco gloated proudly, taking a few steps towards the Weasley clan and their friends, and Clary rolled her eyes as she watched the younger boy. "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge, himself!"

"Don't boast, Draco." Lucius chided, holding his son back with his walking stick. "There's no need with these people."

Clary rolled her eyes once again, turning around and continuing her trek up the stairs, having heard quite enough from the Malfoy family for one evening. "Why does he even care?" she muttered to Vasantha, Newt, and Cedric, who trailed along not far behind the frustrated redhead. 

"I pity them." Vasantha said simply as they walked, finally nearing the top of the stadium.

"You what?" Newt asked in disbelief. "Why in the name of Merlin would you ever pity the Malfoys?"

The girl shrugged in response. "Just look at them. Clearly they're insecure about their lives since they have to make it known to everyone around them just how much they have that everyone else doesn't. And they've never known what it's like to love something. One day their money could run out, and what would they be left with? So yes, Newt, I pity them."

"Well said." Cedric agreed as they reached the top, and Clary's breath caught in her throat as she took in the view of the largest Quidditch pitch she had ever laid eyes on.

From floor to ceiling, the stands were packed with Quidditch fans from every corner of the world, decked out in both the red and black colors of the Bulgarian team and the green and white of the Irish. Lights twinkled around the stadium, illuminating the darkness of the night sky in a bright white glow. A diehard Quidditch fan and lover of the sport for as long as the girl could remember, the view was everything she could've ever dreamed of.

"Amazing, isn't it?" her father asked with a proud grin as he and Amos brought up the rear of the group, patting his eldest daughter on the shoulder. "I told you these seats would be worth waiting for!"

"Alright, so who's going to win tonight?" Amos asked the group excitedly, his attention turning towards where all the children were gathered.

"Bulgaria." Clary informed the man at the same time Cedric said "Ireland," and the two looked at each other, each wearing a horrified expression as they looked at the other."

"It's going to be Bulgaria." Clary assured the boy. "Have you seen Viktor Krum? He's unstoppable."

"Oh, but that's only if the rest of the team can keep up." Cedric reminded her. "Krum could catch the Snitch, but Bulgaria might still lose."

"Actually, we're counting on that." George interjected.

"Like that'll happen." she said, shaking her head.

"Ireland is definitely coming home with the Cup tonight." Cedric said firmly, and Clary crossed her arms over her chest, a devilish smirk crossing her features.

"Okay, then," she said. "let's make this interesting, shall we? If Bulgaria wins, you can't give me detention for an entire month."

Cedric thought it over for a moment. "I'll take that bet. And if Ireland wins?"