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When Blaise Zabini and Bill Weasley strode into Isabella Zabini's tent, they didn't expect to find Isabella weeping into Harry's shoulder, nor did they expect him to be as calming to her as he was. Bill went to stand outside.

"It's ok Isa, You're ok." Harry pushed her away a little bit so he could look into her eyes. "Sirius can't wait to go and take you out to dinner. You two are going to eat, drink, and talk until it seems as though neither of you ever left. He's going to welcome you back, and you're going to dance in the moonlight."

"But-"

"No. You and Sirius will be as happy together as you were before. You're going to fall in love with each other all over again. I know him, and I'm starting to know you."

"My other husbands all died-"

"I'd like to see them try and attack Lord Black on his own property. It'd be a fool's gambit for which they would pay with their lives."

Isabella wiped at her eyes, and gave a watery smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You can't know that Harry."

"You're right. I can't. I am not a seer, but I can see the obvious signs. You two have a shot, and I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to help you."

Blaise sat on the couch on the other side of his mother from Harry. "Mama, he's right. You're more alive this summer than I've ever seen you. If Sirius Black can make you this alive from a couple of measly letters, you two need to be together."

Isabella smiled, and it reached her eyes. She put her arms over her son and Harry and hugged them both. "Thank you, both of you."

"I need some time alone, how about you two go out and meet some friends, spend some money, let me be." Blaise nodded, and Harry got off the couch. After giving his mother another hug goodbye, Blaise went to grab some money and they headed out.

"Begging for money Weasley? At least you know where to start." Blaise and Harry heard Lucius Malfoy's sneering voice taunting Bill.

"No, actually my mother invited him Mr. Malfoy." Blaise spoke to the white haired man.

"Is she so desperate that she will sully herself with the likes of him? I am always available to her, she should know that." The man's sneer was so prominent that Harry was sure it was practiced in front of a mirror.

"Sully Mr. Malfoy? I am quite certain I don't understand. This man is the very one who broke the seal on the Sphinx's inner tomb. He is a world renowned curse breaker. Tell me Mr. Malfoy, what do you have that is greater than Bill?" Blaise wore an iron mask. No emotion could be read from his face.

Lucius Malfoy looked at Bill appraisingly. "He is a Blood-Traitor. I at least know where our society should go."

"Ruin, Death, and anarchy? Those are not good things for a society Mr. Malfoy." Harry wore a mask of his own. He spoke as Heir Potter, and everyone could see it. "You speak of killing muggleborns and muggles but without them, our society would fall. The ruination of our government would come from so few people left in our world that are considered parts of the old families."

"Death would come as the Muggleborns riot. They will break down your wards and rape your wife, they will destroy your family manor and they will burn your bones."

"Anarchy would be the state of things once all purebloods are dead, and from anarchy would raise armies to fight each other. These armies would kill one another until all magic folk are dead."

"Then everything would start again. Muggles would give birth to wizards, and wizards would give birth to more wizards. Magic folk would rise again, and history would repeat itself."

Harry stared hard into the eyes of the corrupt pureblood. "Your plan for our society would see us in ruin. I will ensure that none of your schemes come to pass. The Harry Potter that foiled you two years ago is dead. I am Heir Potter, and Heir Black. I am the future head of your wife's family. I should not be taken lightly." Harry's eyes were as cold as ice. "Apologize to Bill."

Harry wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't for the older wizard to laugh. "That was cute Potter." He walked away, not slowly, nor quickly. He simply walked as would be comfortable.

Bill broke the silence that had fallen. "Well I thought it was impressive."

Blaise nodded. "So did he. He just got angry rather than scared. His grip on his cane strengthened considerably." He looked Harry in the eye. "Well done. I think we're going to get along very well Potter."

Harry smirked. "Yes, I think we will at that Zabini."

Bill, Blaise, and Harry walked for a while, taking in the sights of all the witches and wizards showing off to one another. "Your mum is nothing like what I expected Blaise."

Blaise nodded, eating from cotton candy he got from a vendor. "Most people have the wrong idea about her. She's not cold or callous, she's just very withdrawn. Today was the most expressive I've ever seen her. My father stole her from her friends, and everyone she cared about. Just now is she getting some of those things back, and Harry is one of them."

Harry nodded. "Padfoot was planning on asking her to marry him, which would have made her my Godmother. It makes sense for me to be helpful for her, I represent a significant portion of what she lost."

Bill was lost in thought, and Blaise was smiling. "When did you get so philosophical Harry?"

"Those were Remus's words not mine. I am not philosophical at all."

The three wandered around the campground for a couple hours, buying whatever caught their fancy, and talking to several familiar people. When the sun was high in the sky, Bill said it was time for Harry and him to go back to the Weasleys.

"I'm coming too."

Bill looked at Harry, and the direction of his family's tent. "I don't think that's a good idea Blaise."

"Bill, you yourself are a Weasley, and you just flirted with the Italian Black Widow. I think that I can manage your family."

"I think he was actually talking about Hermione." Harry corrected.

"What happened to Cap'n Bushworm?"

Harry sniggered, he had never heard her called that. "Bushworm?"

"Yes. Her bushy hair and her bookwormieness combined. Bushworm, I called her that first, and I think several 'Puffs do. I've heard a few of the older 'Claws say it.

Harry grinned, the name did fit. "I told her off yesterday. I am relatively sure that I permanently destroyed our friendship. Ron may get over what I said, but it would take time, and a lot of changes on his part."

Blaise shrugged. "I'm still coming."

"You're acting like a Gryffindor." Harry replied.

"And you're acting like a snake." Blaise came back.

"The hat wanted me in Slytherin. I argued for Gryffindor. What's your excuse?"

"My Mama raised me to be like Sirius, I think. It just so happens that he is a Gryffindor, and a prankster." Blaise smiled. "I've also heard that Sirius Black was quite the ladies' man, so we've got that in common."

Harry put his hand to his chin. His eyes adopted a contemplative look. "No, We've been walking for hours, and not a single person has run screaming. I think you're doing much better than Padfoot."

All three laughed, and set off for the Weasley's tent.

The Weasley's tent was a ragtag scrap of cloth in comparison to the Zabini's. It was frayed on the stitching and the enchantments on it wouldn't hold for much longer. There were pieces of patchwork all over it, and the colors didn't match. Harry smiled at the sight of it all the same, though he and Ron weren't speaking, he still had friends there.

To Harry's surprise though, Blaise looked at it with a smile as well, and Bill grumbled under his breath.

Bill noticed Harry's questioning gaze and explained. "I offered my tent. I have a very nice, very expensive one. Dad wouldn't hear of it, I think he's trying to get Ron to accept his lot in life and make him earn his own way. I don't think Ron has any idea of how much money I make, or how much Charlie makes."

Harry nodded, from what he'd heard from Mr. Weasley that morning as a wolf, it fit his character. "I agree. I think that if Ron knew, he would have mentioned it before."

Bill chewed that over. His gait, which had slowed and changed as he was visibly irritated, returned to being the normal, self-assured way he walked.

Without thinking, Harry stepped a few feet in front of the group. His return was quickly noticed by Hermione, who scowled at Blaise. Harry suppressed a small smile as he thought about the nickname that Blaise had coined for the bushy haired bookworm.

Ron looked towards the group, his mouth was full of something, sausage perhaps. It was obvious from his face that he recognized Blaise, but couldn't place him. The redhead's blue eyes turned toward Bill, who wore a cocky grin. His gaze finally settled on Harry.

The raven haired teen met his oldest friend's gaze easily. In his blue eyes, which had finally placed Blaise, was neither condemnation nor accusation. The boy's eyes were resigned, as if he had lost a great mental struggle just recently.

Harry expected that if Ron ever lost a chess match, that the look in his eyes later as he worked through the game would be similar to the one he wore now.

Ginny turned, her back was facing the group. She quickly registered the confusion, and acknowledged Blaise. Her brown eyes bored into Bill, analyzing him. Her eyebrow rose questioningly, and Bill nodded.

"Harry, why are you with the snake?" The acid in Hermione's voice surprised Harry.

Before he could come to his new friends defense, the teen worked his way in front of Hermione. "Perhaps," Blaise's voice was full of malice. "If you were a better friend, you would know. The fact that you do not know that Harry and I have been conversing all summer implies that you are not on the list of people that he confides in."

Harry walked around to look at the expression on his new friend's face, and was surprised to see anger.

Blaise continued. "You had a friendship with Harry Potter, one of the most influential and wealthy people in wizarding Britain, and you let it rot. You threw it away, and let it fester over the summer. I would not give you the chance he has." Blaise leaned closer to the bushy haired girl. "You have an opportunity to redeem yourself. Do not waste it by insulting the friends he has made, or the allies he will continue to make."

Blaise rose to his full height, he was taller than Harry and rather intimidating. "You have one use to him Granger. You were a friend when he needed one, your ability to maneuver in a library can be matched. Your intelligence is doing nothing but hampering him."

Harry didn't argue with Blaise, even though he knew the main thing standing before his ability to learn was the curse scar. Hermione's overbearing atmosphere made him want to not even study, she was simply too pushy.

"This summer he has mastered the third year runes, and third year arithmacy. He has been taught by our defense professor last year, and one of the greatest duelists this country has seen in centuries. The only thing you bring to the table now, is friendship. The only thing you've said to him since your conversation was to accuse him of who knows what, and to insult his friend. Now sit down, and shut up."

Harry was about to retort, to say something. Anything. Everyone around the small cooking fire was looking at him. Everyone but Hermione.

"You say you're his friend?" Her voice was deathly low. She fingered the end of her wand. "It was me who he saved from the troll. It was me who helped him get passed the Devil's Snare in first year."

She stood up, not intimidated by the italian's height anymore. "It was me who figured out it was a Basilisk petrifying the students. It was me who helped his godfather escape. I have been with Harry this whole time. Not you."

Blaise was surprised by the vehemence with which the witch spoke. The girl was shorter than him, but was honestly intimidating.

Blaise was surprised, but not impressed. "Yes, you did do all that." The Italian's eyes burned with rage.

"You did figure out the Basilisk, you did figure out the Devil's Snare, whatever that means, and you did help free Sirius." He spoke as lowly as Hermione, with just as much intensity. "But, I sent the healing potions that rebuilt Harry and Sirius's bodies. I sent the course work for Runes and Arithmacy. I have helped him all summer. You have let your friendship take a backseat to whatever life you've lived this summer."

Harry stepped between the two. He looked them both in the eyes, first Hermione, then Blaise. "Knock it off, both of you. Blaise, if you came over here just to insult Hermione, that was low."

"Hermione, Blaise was out of line with what he said. However," The stress Harry put on the word was significant. "He was correct, in a way. You need to change. You both proved you were petty, Hermione first, then Blaise." Harry looked between the two, Hermione's face showed confusion, and Blaise showed a slight bit of regret.

"You both tried to quantify your friendships with him." It wasn't Harry that spoke, nor was it Ron, the one who thought most strategically. It was Ginny.

"Tom did the same thing to me through his Diary, he quantified our friendship. He made himself seem more like a valuable friend than any of my roommates." Ginny's eyes carried nothing but harsh rebuke.

"Hermione attacked, and Blaise retaliated in kind." Ginny stood and pointed a finger into the older girl's chest. "You were out of line. You wanted to make yourself seem valuable to Harry. You're not. He made that clear last night. You abandoned him when he needed a shoulder to cry on. You have done nothing to ease his pain."

Hermione looked shocked. Her eyes shifted between Harry and Ginny. The younger girl did nothing but laugh mirthlessly. Her eyes turned a shade darker.

"The walls in the Burrow are thin Hermione. I heard your entire conversation last night. Think hard about what I've said. Harry will, and now, I've just equated you to Voldemort. You'll need to work hard to get past that."

Harry was shocked. In Gryffindor, all the girls had a code to watch each other's backs. Ginny just broke that code to pieces and danced on the remains. Harry wanted to intervene, but he felt that Ginny needed to let off some steam, and now as good of a time as any.

Hermione sat down, clutching her head. It seemed she could handle the pressure of dealing with both Harry the night before, and Blaise then, but couldn't deal with the 'betrayal' of another Gryffindor girl.

Blaise looked at the young firecracker with admiration. Under his breath he muttered "Damn, cunning…"

Ginny flipped her long hair over her shoulder and turned to face Blaise. "I expected more from the house of cunning Zabini." She looked him hard in the eye. Her use of his surname was forcibly meant to remind him of who his mother was. "The hat wanted me in Slytherin you know, but if you're all the house has to show for itself, my talents would have been wasted. If this is not representative of Slytherin, you're just a waste of space."

Blaise reeled from the sting of Ginny's words. His mother's admonitions already played in his head. 'You were stupid.' She would say. 'You could have undermined her without looking like a villain, you could have spoken her into a corner to get your way.' Her eyes would show disappointment, something Blaise hated to see. She would tell him he was a part of the reason Slytherin had a reputation for the dark.

Blaise hung his head at Ginny's words. His shame was evident. The pureblood prince was defeated by a Blood-Traitor. No, I was defeated by an intelligent witch, her status means nothing. The wealthy young teen was totally and completely cut by the redhead's words.

"You're right."

Blaise's admission forced Hermione to raise her head. "I acted foolishly, and spoke as I should not have. I apologize for acting like I imagine my father would have. I'll be leaving now." Blaise stood upright once more, and forced his face to don a mask.

"Thank you for the conversation today Bill, it was most enlightening."

Bill nodded, he had been silent and still through the entire verbal sparring. "You're welcome."

The Italian nodded and began to return to his tent, when Bill called his name.

"Yes?"

"I broke its arse off." Bill smiled, it was small but what Blaise needed. The teen nodded in respect, and a good portion of humor, and walked away.

Harry looked at Bill as if he were insane.

"He asked me, before we saw you and Ms. Zabini having a tearfest, how I escaped the sphinx two years ago. I broke its' arse off."

Harry smiled, befriending Bill seemed to have been a good choice. Is that how I think now? I weigh my friendships? Harry was conflicted by the internal struggles the idea posed. On one hand, he wanted friends who were simply friends. But on the other hand, his parents had trusted a friend, and they were now sleeping in whatever afterlife there was.

With power comes the responsibility to use it properly. I need people I can depend on, my friends must prove themselves. Blaise has, it was displayed today, if a bit violently. Until people do, they won't get close to me.

Harry sat down, the conversation in the group turned toward the upcoming game, and very obviously avoided the confrontation that was just witnessed.

Ron sat still and quietly for a long time, before reluctantly joining the conversation. As the hours progressed, he became more animated, even arguing with Harry about the importance of the beater position.

Hermione was silent for the rest of the conversation. She would occasionally steal glances at Harry and Ron, but only occasionally. Her eyes completely avoided Ginny, acting as if the redhead didn't exist.

As the day turned to night, and the sun crested the horizon, brilliant white fires illuminated the grand stadium. Nestled in braziers that were above even the tallest of boxes, the fires provided enough light that the surrounding area turned from night to day.

Charlie whistled long and low, clearly impressed. "That's dragonfire. Its brilliance is hard to replicate. I want to meet whoever created or bottled it."

The stocky Weasley turned to his elder brother. "How do they keep the muggles from seeing something like that?"

Bill thought for a moment, his eyes scanning the air above and around them.

Harry's eyes joined Bill's, his sensor was active, and he noticed the pattern in the sky. But the flames drew his attention. The dance of the fire was hypnotic, and Harry began to sway. Though he was far away, the fire began to warm his core. It wasn't until Charlie nearly tackled him that he realized his flesh was smoking.

Charlie whistled again. "Now I really want to meet this guy. He created Primal Dragonfire."

Bill reached out his hands to lift Harry and Charlie up. "Whoever he is, he's good. His magic is in the fires, and in the wards around us. They're patterned after a leviathan's hide, and are meant to block any muggle from seeing anything magical happening inside them. Considering he made Primal Dragonfire, I have no doubt they'll work."

Bill looked at his family. From the looks on their faces, Harry and Hermione included, he and Charlie were the only ones who knew what he was talking about.

"Primal Dragonfire is one of the most powerful substances in the world. It, as you saw from Harry, is hypnotic and deadly. The Leviathan pattern in the wards is remnant of Atlantis." Bill explained, awe dripping from his voice.

"This guy is one of the best in the world. I've never seen fire like that, and only once have I seen a ward constructed this precisely. It was in a trench that Gringotts sends their cursebreakers to, it's a test that no one has ever completed."

Mr. Weasley looked to the sky, but without a sensor like his son's, he couldn't see anything. "Well, this is the World Cup. I don't think any expenses have been spared. The lighting of the fires indicates that it is time to go to our seats." The balding man stood, and glanced back at the fires. "Those are nice fires though."

Harry followed as Mr. Weasley walked to the top box. The young teen lagged behind to talk to Charlie.

"What would have happened if you didn't break me from the trance?"

The redhead shrugged. "I don't know. I thought the trance was a myth, since I've never been affected. By some accounts, you would have started to burn, like a sunburn, and broken out of it."

"And other accounts?"

"You would have burned to a crisp, or your magical core would have detonated. As much as I want to meet they guy who made the fires, he's got to be off his rocker. No way I would have endangered someone like he did." Charlie shook his head and muttered about the lack of sense in the magical world. It seemed that if someone could show off, they would, at no thought of the cost to others.

Harry walked in silence among the Weasleys. Ron spoke eagerly with Fred and George, debating the skill of the Bulgarian national team's beaters against those of the Irish.

Hermione and Bill were talking about the wards around the stadium, and how Bill knew so much about them.

Ginny walked also in silence. She was fully in control of the silence around her though, it seemed to obey her will.

This new Ginny startled Harry. She spoke with resolve, she met the eyes of those above her, and she hadn't stammered once in Harry's presence. She had changed from the first couple of times Harry had met her.

So would you, he thought, If you were possessed by Voldemort. She almost had to kill dozens of people, and she dealt with the madman's mind. There is no way she escaped that without mental repercussions.

Harry shuddered as he saw the shade of Tom in his mind's eye. The mocking, sneering face of a seventeen year old murderer often haunted Harry's sleep. He refused to allow the beast's face haunt his waking hours as well.

Harry fought back to his previous train of thought, and noted idly that he hadn't seen Percy since he left for the Zabini tent with Bill. Deciding that it wasn't worth really thinking too hard about, Harry instead turned his thoughts toward the upcoming game.

The Irish team had an incredible Chaser lineup, and a decent keeper, but the Bulgarians had the best seeker in the league. If you listened to Fred and George, the Bulgarians had better beaters, but Ron was adamant in the fact that the Irish Beaters had the better skill and symmetry.

Harry climbed the multitude of steps to the pinnacle of the box. Seated here were the highest ranking of Britain's elite. The teen growled, wishing Sirius had spent more time teaching him about the social structures, and less about the small differences between the Celtic rune for 'Bravery', and the one for 'Courage'. Though, Harry did have to admit, the two were tricky, and when combined meant 'Bravery in the face of Battle'. The teen only knew that because of the way Sirius drilled the subject into his head.

Remus was just as bad about Arithmacy though. The magical difference between a vector and ray? Seriously Moony? The rational part of Harry's mind reminded him that both men had mastered both branches of magic, and drilled those things because most couldn't understand them.

The teenage part of his mind though, just wanted to complain. It was not a habit that Harry had indulged much over the summer, seeing as how it was worthless.

Harry simply wished he knew more about the situation he found himself in. Scanning the box, he found a dozen nobles, and a variety of foreign dignitaries.

His eyes landed on a pretty blonde girl. Her hair reached below her shoulders, Harry couldn't see just how far. Her eyes were a brilliant crystalline blue, they held no emotion. The girl's face was expressionless and cold. She wore a mask of Ice, the Ice Queen, Daphne Greengrass. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod in Harry's direction. Harry nodded in reply.

Harry wasn't sure if Blaise would have contacted her yet. He said he needed time to draft a letter to the girl, and he might not manage to with the proper wording. Everything that was sent to her by certain owls, Gilgamesh being one of them, was handled by Lord Greengrass first. The young Italian had to establish a code, and send the cipher in a single letter. It was not an easy task, and the boy wasn't sure he would manage it before the end of summer.

Harry had prepared himself for the fact that Daphne and Tracey may not know of his changing mind until he told them himself on the train.

He was thankful that the preparation came in vain.

Harry kept his face in a mask, not allowing his nervousness to bleed through. He mentally sighed, this would have been so much easier had he not known of his heritage.

Easier, he thought, but not as fun.

As he thought it, he realized it was true. Harry enjoyed the challenge of fitting in among the Lords. He felt the weight of his duty, and it thrilled him. The joy of being among those of his own kind that he discovered on that fateful day in Diagon Alley had never truly abandoned him, but now it bled through once again. Here, in this moment, he was surrounded by a hundred thousand people who had one goal, to cheer for a sports team.

Harry felt at home, and he never intended to leave.

Harry's musings were cut short by the large belly, and larger voice of Ludo Bagman. He wore the robes of a beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, and spoke with a joy in his voice that few dared to replicate. It aggravated Harry.

"Ah Harry Potter, my boy where have you been? I was looking for you earlier." Bagman's eyes stared at Harry's faint scar, rather than the teen's eyes.

Harry shifted in his seat so that he was looking the older man in his small blue eyes. "I was with a friend all morning, after that I was with the Weasleys, but I don't see how that is your concern, Mr?" Harry left the title hanging. He knew the man's name obviously, but wanted to make a statement.

"Ah, yes, we've never been introduced. My name is Ludovic Bagman. You can just call me Ludo. I would love to chat, but I have to commentate this match, so if you would excuse me please." Harry moved his legs to the side to allow the man room to pass.

Harry looked around the stadium with his omnioculors. The nobs on the sides allowed him to zoom in and out, and to speed up and slow down play. As he looked around, he saw golden words flash up like a display, calling out names of spells that the people in the stands were throwing around.

Interesting, I wonder how it detects that.

Harry looked around some then put the device back in his bag. He had noticed something on the air, a subtle shift of the tone of the box.

Harry looked directly to his left and noticed Lucius Malfoy glaring at him. The man's cold grey eyes carried a fury that was unprecedented. He was obviously still thinking about Harry's words.

Draco stood near his father, a practiced sneer on his face as he gazed around the box. His eyes caught Harry's with a slight amount of surprise, but it was gone in an instant. The only reason Harry caught it was because of the pranking he'd been subjected to over the summer. The only warning that Remus was about to unleash a prank was a slight glint in his eye.

Narcissa Malfoy looked beautiful in her tailored robes. The hem of her garment flowed elegantly with her curves, and her hair was bone white, a stark contrast to her maiden name. Though for all the contrast, Harry still saw in her eyes the look of a Black. It was a look that Sirius had drilled into Harry. One of the things that Sirius taught the teen over the summer about politics was that if he had the eyes of a Black, he would be given a wide berth.

Harry adopted his iron mask once again, and Narcissa's eyes locked with Harry's. In them she saw not a boy of muggle upbringing, but rather she saw the eyes of Heir Potter, and Heir Black. Her mind was decided, Harry Potter would win the next war.

She doubted she could convince her Husband though. She did however, give Harry a polite nod. Harry returned the gesture, and no one saw any of the exchange.

Harry turned his attention to the match as the Minister came bubbling in, chatting with a surly looking Bulgarian man. The minister was pantomiming something, and the Bulgarian was nodding. Harry stifled a laugh as he noticed the look in the man's eyes. The man understood English very well, but was amusing himself by making the minister look like a fool.

The teen nodded to the dignitary, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

Bagman started to speak, announcing the games for all to hear. His magically amplified voice carried to all one hundred thousand people, and they cheered for him.

"Welcome wizards and witches, to the four hundred ninety third Quidditch World Cup! I am your Commentator, Ludo Bagman! Today, your match is brought to you by Comet, just remember, if you're going somewhere, the comet can get you there faster!"

Harry leaned to Bill, who was sitting on his left. "Ironic isn't it, that all the players are on Firebolts though?"

Bill laughed softly.

Bagman hadn't stopped speaking, and was now introducing the Bulgarian team's mascot. The fires in the giant braziers dimmed to a low glow, the atmosphere they created was somewhat eerie. As Harry watched, a group of incredibly beautiful women walked out, and began to dance.

Harry's mind went blissfully blank. He could think of nothing but the alluring way the women moved their hips, the way their hands moved in the air, or the serene expressions on their faces. The dance picked up speed, and so too did Harry's heartbeat. Harry's mind was floating with half-formed ideas, ways to impress the women. He could jump off the top box, or simply call his name.

Before he could do anything foolish, the women stopped. They moved to the sides of the field and sat down, breaking their hold on the men of the stadium.

Harry sat back in his seat, he didn't remember standing. "What was that?"

"Veela." Came Bill's reply. "A lot of veela. Their beauty is enchanting, and their dancing can make a man's head go wild." Bill gazed at them, confirming for Harry that not even the cool cursebreaker was immune.

"Now! The Irish mascot!" came Bagman's booming voice, echoing off the golden stands.

Coming over the stadium was a golden comet, flying low and fast. It came above Harry, and he saw it was the shape of a giant four leaf clover, raining golden coins. The men on it were very short, and dancing to an upbeat tune.

"Leprechauns." Harry muttered.

Charlie, who was sitting on Harry's right, chuckled. "Of course, who else would be Ireland's mascot?"

The leprechauns split off into dozens of groups, flying in formation all around the stadium. They staged a dogfight, throwing gold at each other, and swooped over the heads of the fans with abandon.

The crowd went wild, a clamourous din arose from the entire stadium. The Leprechauns bowed to all, and sat on the opposite side of the field from the Veela.

When the noise died down, Bagman continued announcing. "Now, the Irish national team! Lead by team captain and seeker, Lynch! Chasers, Troy, Mullen and Moran! Beaters, Connolly and Quigley! Keeper, Ryan!"

The thunderous din rose again, as the Irish team flew from their locker rooms. Each player came when his name was announced, flying with style for the crowd to watch. Lynch took his place in the center, waiting to shake hands with the opposing captain. His green robes hung down past his broom, but Harry knew it was just for effect, he would either shorten them, or tame them before he started flying.

"Now for Bulgaria! Captain and keeper Zogrof takes the field! Chasers, Ivanova, Dimitriov, and Levsky! Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov!" The players shot into the stadium, with Zogrof taking his place across from Lynch.

Bagman waited for the crowd to grow silent, he was indeed good at managing it. "Seeker! KRUM!"

Viktor Krum shot into the stands like a scarlet rocket. His robes billowed behind him, again simply for display. He rounded the Irish team, and came to rest in the back of the Bulgarian's group.

"The referee, Hassan Mostafa!" The referee flew up to the two captains, and they shook hands. The teams took position, and Mostafa threw the quaffle straight into the air. The Irish chasers flew after it, Troy barely grabbing it before Ivanova could. Troy passed to Mullen, who passed to Moran. The play was going so fast that Bagman only had time to shout the names of the players in possession of the quaffle before it changed hands.

"Intercepted by Levsky!" The scarlet clad chaser had flow down and grabbed a pass between Mullen to Troy. She turned around, and sped to the Irish goals with the quaffle. She brought her arm back, intent to fire, and was hit by a bludger from Connolly.

"Good play by Connolly! Troy in possession." The quaffle flew back to the Bulgarian goals. Troy passed to Moran just as he was hit in the shoulder by a bludger fired by Volkov.

The Irish beaters, in Harry's opinion were not as good as the Bulgarians. They flew almost in tandem, and seemed to work together well. But the Bulgarian beaters flew perfectly in tandem, and fired their bludgers with a better mix of precision and power.

For an hour the play was fierce, Ireland was up sixty to ten, and didn't seem intent to give Bulgaria anything. Harry's eyes occasionally drifted to the seekers, but as they were just flying in circles, there wasn't much to see.

The play got more and more intense, at one point the Veela seduced the referee, and he kicked them off the field.

Bulgaria fouled Ireland a dozen times, giving them many free throws, but the Bulgarian keeper was just too good. Only three of the shots made it through the hoops, and Ireland soon lead 140 – 10.

Harry had watched earlier as Krum lead Lynch into a shattering dive, and pulled out. The Irish seeker flew a bit more slowly after that, and gave the surly Bulgarian his space. The second time however, when Krum faced the ground in a dive, Harry was certain he saw the snitch. The Bulgarian pushed his broom for all it was worth, pulling into dives and zigzagging across the field.

Lynch followed Krum, putting speed into his broom to rival Krum, almost. Lynch made himself smaller on the broom to allow for less wind resistance, and he started to gain on the Bulgarian.

Krum fought for speed, pouring it on to his broom in excess, straining the wood and causing the hazel twigs to start smoking. He lifted his hand from the handle of his firebolt, careful not to cause any more drag than necessary, and shot his hand out like a rocket, enclosing the small, fluttering snitch in his gloved hand.

"Krum has caught the snitch! Bulgaria catches the snitch! Ireland wins, but Bulgaria catches the snitch!"

Harry looked back at the score, last he had seen it was at 140 – 10, but now it read 170 – 160. Harry smirked, Ireland had taken the distraction caused by the seekers to score three more times.

The Irish team flew a victory lap around the pitch to deafening cheers.

Both teams made their way to the top box, and Harry was surprised by the players. None of them looked a day over twenty-five. The athletes shook hands with the minister of Britain, and of Bulgaria, who was the man Crouch was miming to before the match.

As the Irish team held the trophy aloft, cameras flashed, the crowed thundered, and the Bulgarians clapped enthusiastically.

Harry looked at Krum, and was surprised once again. He was very young, and duck footed. The man who was so at ease in the air seemed to have difficulty walking in a straight line on the ground.

"I'm going to go back to the tent before anyone notices me." Harry spoke to Bill, he knew he would have to use his fame one day. But that day was for the players, not him.

Bill stood before Harry could, and parted the crowd a bit. Harry walked in the wake he caused, not letting anyone see his eyes or scar. Together the two walked down the stairs and to the tents.

"I don't like crowds much. Spending months alone in a tomb can do that to you I guess." Bill's hunched shoulders and quickened pace spoke volumes, it was obvious he really did want to get away from the growing crowd in the top box.

"Now, I have a good reason if someone asks."

Harry smiled. He never really thought that he would make friends with Ron's eldest brothers. "I grew up mainly alone, I've never liked crowds much. Then I get thrust into the wizarding world, and everyone crowds around me. It's irritating beyond belief, and one of the reasons I always just hung out with Ron and Hermione. I know they kept people away from me, and I was grateful."

"And now?" Bill looked at Harry questioningly.

"Now, I'm friends with the son of the Italian Black Widow. It's a reputation that precedes Blaise. I don't think I'll have any real problems. Nothing I can't handle at least."

Bill walked forward, having come to a stop talking with Harry. The two walked in a companionable silence. Each were lost in their own musings.

Harry wondered, with the Triwizard Tournament coming this year, would there be any Quidditch?

Maybe there will be inter-school tournaments. Quidditch, Dueling, maybe academics. That's how I would run it. Harry was lost in his musings even after they entered the tent.

Harry yawned, and told Bill he would be in bed if anyone needed him. This way, he wouldn't have to deal with Ron.

Harry awoke several hours later, to explosions and screams.