Wish Upon A Star

Quidditch World Cup

They saw the golden glow emit from the huge stadium. They climbed stairs and stairs, to reach the top seats. 

As they waited in their seats, Harry struck up a conversation with an elf who was wearing a large tablecloth. Ashlyn supposed it was Wiky. Dobby wears a pillowcase, so a tablecloth must be Winky. Sure enough, Winky was rocking slightly in her chair, covering her eyes. She was afraid of heights, but Crouch had made her save him a seat. Dick.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.

Ashlyn did a double-take and looked at the elf, or rather the one sitting beside her. Ashlyn had just remembered. Barty Crouch Jr. was sitting in the empty seat Winky was saving, invisible. Ashlyn stared into the place beyond Winky. She wasn't sure if Crouch had noticed or not, but she braced her self for anything. She gripped the wand in her pocket, just in case.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again . . . and again . . . and again . . ."

"Why would you do that?" Ashlyn asked, clearly disgusted.

Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvet-covered, tasselled program.

"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.

"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter . . . oh come on now, you know who he is . . . the boy who survived You-Know-Who . . . you do know who he is —"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started babbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

Ashlyn turned away to hide her laugh. The Bulgarian Minister seemed to notice and gave her a sly wink.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, whispering in her ear.

"The Bulgarian minister knows English, he's just playing Fudge. He noticed me, and knew that I knew." Ashlyn explained as she leaned to Hermione's ear.

"How did you know that? Oh, nevermind," Hermione said as she straightened.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat. . . . Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places . . . ah, and here's Lucius!"

Ashlyn, Harry, Hermione, and Ron turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr Weasley were none other than Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and Narcissa Malfoy.