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Chapter IV: A Skull in the Sky

(Astoria P.O.V)

The further Astoria climbed as they rose through the stands of the world cup, the more uncomfortable Astoria grew. It wasn't that she was afraid of heights, in fact, it was quite the contrary due to her love of flying. No, she could handle heights, what she couldn't handle was climbing higher and higher between Lucius and Draco Malfoy, two of the least trustworthy people she knew. It didn't help that every time she'd look behind her, a face that could only be interpreted as regret was laced across Narcissa Malfoy's face.

Every step Astoria took she heard her rational mind call out to her, Call Dobby and get out of here. But she refused, gritting her teeth with every step as she told herself, I can handle this, I can't allow myself to get scared. If Harry can stand against 100 dementors, the least I can do is this. It hadn't been more than five minutes until the banging of Malfoy Sr.'s cane against the metal guard rail had awoken her from her trance.

"Lord Black, it's fancy meeting you here," Lucius said.

Instantly, Astoria's eyes turned and caught the crowd that had brought out Draco's scowl. Sitting there, of the faces she recognized were Sirius Black, her former Professor Remus Lupin, Michael, Neville, Tracey, Eoin Davis, Blaise, and of course staring right back at her, Daphne and Harry, "Astoria?" Daphne spoke in her practiced icy-tone, though Astoria could see the slight panic in her eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"We're invited guests of the Minister himself," Draco spoke with aggravating pride.

A conversation of politically maneuvered jabs between Sirius and Lucius took place, but Astoria couldn't focus on that. Instantly, she focused her mind onto anything she could think of that could help Daphne and Harry understand the situation without blowing her cover. Mouthing was out of the question due to her proximity with Malfoy Sr. and her father, but as she recalled Harry's writings of practicing his legilimency, she locked on to his emerald green eyes and subtly poked at the side of her head.

Astoria had wanted to let out a sigh of relief as she saw Harry's acacia wand slip from his holster and with a soft whisper, Harry spoke, "Legilimens." Astoria wasn't sure what to expect, she'd never been under the effects of a mental probe, and yet, she felt Harry inside her mind instantly.

With Harry in her mind, she forced herself to think about everything she had seen and heard at the Malfoy manor as well as her reason for being with her current group. After she saw Harry nod, receiving the message she forced herself to think, Tell Daphne I'm okay. I know to call Dobby if I'm in trouble. I know that you probably know this better than me, but be careful.

Once more Harry nodded, before sliding his wand back into his holster before the less than gentle nudge from Draco had forced her into moving. Instantly, she saw fury erupt in Daphne's cold glare, but thankfully, she watched as Harry took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly, Everything's going to be fine, Astoria assured herself, Everything's going to be just fine.

Knowing now that Harry had gotten her message, Astoria continued her climb, higher and higher she marched until she had found herself facing a closed-off room, heavily guarded and locked with a myriad of Alohomora-proof locks. She watched as with a smug smile, the Minister placed his wand to the door, and instantly, it swung open, before he watched the fat man proudly waddle inside.

Inside the minister's box was another man who Astoria assumed could only be the anti-Fudge. Where Fudge was short and fat, with a rather balding head covered by a green bowler hat, the other man was tall and muscular, if not a bit overly-muscular with a long mane of dark-brown hair which was perfectly maintained. Where Fudge wore rather unflashy suits of mostly brown, this man wor Gold-Trimmed Black Velvet robes, which still didn't manage to hide the man's immense muscle definition. Astoria wagered that if a fight between the two broke out, the robed man wouldn't even need to pull out his wand to eliminate Fudge.

"Ah, Minister Oblansk," Fudge spoke proudly, "It's good to finally meet you! As you may know, I am Minister for Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge, and these are my guests, the Malfoy Family, and The Greengrass Family."

The man turned to Fudge with a rather lost look, and instantly Astoria smiled. English is a national language in politics, it's nearly a requirement for anyone in Europe who wants to hold public office, it was something she had remembered Daphne harping on when she was little. The man was simply making a fool of Fudge, and after Fudge's disastrous use of Dementors the year before, Astoria didn't feel much sympathy.

Astoria had to bite her tongue in order to keep herself from laughing as the Bulgarian Minister, seeing that she had caught on to his joke gave her a quick wink which she returned with a slight nod before watching in amusement as Fudge continued to make a grand fool of himself trying to mime out his understandings.

Eventually, Fudge had seemingly given up in defeat, and Astoria had found her seat directly behind the man in the row established for guests of the Minister. Astoria gathered a view of her surroundings and reflected in admiration at the Bulgarian Minister. Whereas Fudge had used his power to solicit favors from high ranking members of his wizarding population, the Bulgarian Minister had only brought along one person, a boy, maybe a year or so older than Astoria with curly blonde hair and deep almond-shaped brown eyes.

"Hello," The boy said kindly as he turned to Astoria, "My name is Damyan Oblansk, the Minister's son."

"It's nice to meet you, my name's Astoria Greengrass," Astoria said with a smile, thankful to be around someone who didn't seem like a complete tool. Though a mystery was certainly forming as Damyan looked nothing like his father. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to sit quietly with her confusion she asked gently, "Did you just come here with your dad? Does your mom not like Quidditch or something?"

"No um," Damyan said scratching the back of his neck, "I actually have never met my mom. I guess in truth it would be more appropriate to say I'm the minister's adopted son."

"Oh," Astoria said feeling like she had just placed her foot in her mouth majorly as she continued, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's okay, really, it's not a big deal," Damyan said with a smile, "Fathe- I mean Minister Oblansk took me in when I was really young, in all honesty, I consider myself pretty lucky."

Before Astoria could even respond with how admirable she had found that viewpoint, the blowing of horns turned her attention back to the field itself and instantly a smile encroached upon her face as speeding brooms passed overhead. Loud bangs of exploding powder erupted across the pitch and from the powder rose the symbol of the Irish Team, a giant Leprechaun. Astoria laughed at the way the bright green man danced in the center of the pitch before the whooshing sounds of brooms racing past crashed through the Leprechaun with streams of red, the Bulgarian Team had arrived.

(Harry P.O.V)

Harry wrapped his arms protectively around Daphne's waist as he whispered, "She's going to be fine, she knows to call Dobby if she's in a bind and there are too many witnesses here for Malfoy to do something to her during the game. I get that you're worried for her, but she's going to be fine."

"The rational side of my brain knows that," Daphne said with a tired sigh, "But the paranoid side of my brain doesn't trust any of the Malfoys."

"I don't blame you," Harry said turning to look up at the Minister's Box, "But I trust Astoria, however, if something does happen, I'll have Kreacher pop us into the box and we'll kick the Malfoys' asses ourselves. Nobody harms Astoria if I'm around."

"I'm not sure why," Daphne said with a gentle smile, "But for some reason that helped a lot Flyboy, thank you."

"Always, Princess," Harry replied kissing the top of her head before the announcement of Minister Fudge set the games to begin. Gently Harry broke apart from her though he remained by her side as Michael filled the other and with a grin he spoke, "For now though, let's focus on watching an amazing game."

Instantly, Cedric's voice caught his attention as a thin, dark, and sallow-skinned young man swooped into the arena. He had a large curved nose and thick back eyebrows that made Harry think of the man as more hawk-like than a person. "That's him, That's Krum," Cedric said with a focused stare, "I can't believe he's only eighteen, must be one of the youngest professional players in history."

So that's Krum, Harry thought to himself, Alright then, let's see what he can do. "Um Mate," Michael called nudging him, "You good, you sort of have that look you get when we're about to spar on your face."

Daphne shook her head at Harry in amusement, "Honestly, does everything Quidditch related have to be a competition for you?"

"Yes," Harry responded with a grin, and before he knew it, the Quaffle was tossed into the air, the Bludgers were unchained, and the snitch was released. An excited and focused look grew on Harry's face as he watched the game begin.

"They're Off!" Shouted the announcer, a man Harry saw through his Omnioculars as a blue-eyed, blond man with rosy skin. Harry couldn't help but feel a fire burning in the pit of his stomach as his eyes trailed quickly behind each speedy blur, So this is what high-level Quidditch is like? Harry thanked Sirius for handing out the Omnioculars as, without it, he doubted anyone would have been able to clearly follow the action, but even with the ability to slow down time and focus on players, the man Sirius had called Bagman had helped greatly with his commentating.

"And it's Mullet passed to Troy, handed off to Moran-," Then Bagman shouted, "What's this! It's stolen by Dimitrov and- What a steal by the Irish, Mullet's defensive skills are certainly nothing to sneeze at!"

It was Quidditch to level Harry had never seen played before and his body trembled in excitement, wishing more than ever than he could have a chance out on that field. Michael's jaw had fallen to the floor as he called out, "Nev, Harry, are you following this?"

"Nope," Neville spoke in equally stunned confusion as they watched the Bulgarian keeper block a shot from Troy that riled up the entire sea of red-wearing fans, but unlike Michael and Neville, he saw it. The way Troy had spun over the Bulgarian chaser Ivanova, had blown his mind, and the reflexes of the Bulgarian Keeper would have been enough to make Wood furious with envy. It was Quidditch, the game Harry loved more than any other, played at its pinnacle, to Harry, it was art.

It wasn't just their speed, the quickness of their passes had only given the poor announcer enough time to say their names. Harry was confident he could achieve this speed on his firebolt, but his mind pounded at the absurdity of the practices those teams must have faced to build up the required stamina to play at that rate for possibly hours.

"Hawk's head attacking formation," Michael spoke in awe, as Harry turned to face the Irish chaser's zooming down the field with Troy in the center, "It's the standard flight pattern for the Ravenclaw team, but I've never seen it done so quickly."

"That's a Porskoff Ploy," Cedric said his perfect smile shining in amazement as Troy managed to dart upward with the Quaffle drawing away from the Bulgarian chaser Ivanova before punching the Quaffle over to Moran.

Instantly, Harry watched as Moran spun, the broom just barely missing the impact of the Bludger smacked at him from the Bulgarian beater Volkov, and Harry felt Daphne flinch at the close impact beneath his arm as Neville spoke, "Merlin, how can someone even move that fast?"

But in mid-spin, Harry watched his smile beginning to hurt his face as Levski smacked the quaffle out of Moran's hand and watched it land into Dimitrov's who quickly bolted past the Irish defense. But doing something Harry had never seen before, the Keeper for the Irish team Ryan, bolted away from the hoops, and with dexterity Harry though impossible to a Keeper, caught Dimitrov's hail-mary shot before launching it and amazing speed towards Troy who caught it like a kid would catch a baseball gently lobbed from his father.

Once again, Bagman's commentary described the insanity best as he called names in rapid succession, "Troy to Mullet, back to Troy, behind the back to Moran, It's Troy, Moran, over Dimitrov to Mullet, Mullet to Troy, Troy Scores!"

This time Harry watched as Tracey and her other Irish National Team supporters rose to their feet and cheered so loudly Harry was certain the arena would fall apart. 100,000 people in the arena and at least half roared in applause as Troy scored, Harry was certain he'd be deaf by the end of the night, but he truly didn't care.

If Harry had to bet, he'd argue that as a whole, the Irish chasers were better than the Bulgarians. They worked as a seamless group as if they appeared to be able to read one another's mind. He was proved right as within minutes Ireland had scored twice more bringing the lead to 30-0. Harry couldn't believe his eyes, as he himself was forced to put on his Omnioculars, the players were moving faster still, and the plays were becoming more brutal.

He watched as the Bulgarian Beaters who played more aggressively than any Harry had ever seen at Hogwarts had turned the tide on the bludgers, bullying the onyx orbs more than the bludgers bullied the players. Harry's eyes scanned feverishly as he watched the Irish chasers become handicapped from the Bulgarian Beater's onslaught stopping some of their more elaborate plans.

He couldn't help but shake his head in stunned disbelief as with a whack of a Beater's Bat that echoed like a thunderclap through the stadium, the Irish chasers were forced to scatter as Ivanova broke through, slamming hard against Mullet before scoring Bulgaria's first goal against Ryan. The score had changed to 30-10.

Like a waterfall into an empty basin, Harry heard the crowd gasp as he watched the man he'd been focusing on dive through the chasers as if gravity had a higher effect on him than others as he plummeted towards the ground. Victor Krum's speed on a nosedive was something Harry couldn't help but marvel at, and as he watched the Irish chaser Lynch in hot pursuit Harry understood the plan, it was Krum's specialty after all and Harry closed his eyes as he felt Daphne's hand squeeze his arm, the Bulgarian crowd cheered as at the last moment Krum pulled off the Wronski Feint, but the Irish crowd reeled as Lynch had hit the ground with a deafening thud.

"It's time out!" Bagman spoke, "Medical Witches are coming to check on Aidan Lynch, the game will resume momentarily."

"If I ever see you do something like that in a game," Daphne spoke in a chilling tone, "You better hope you crash because if you scare me like that, I'll kill you myself."

Harry gave a gentle smile as Cedric laughed in the background, "I doubt Harry would even fall for a feint like that in the first place, I mean honestly what was Lynch thinking?"

"I think you have too much faith in Potter's rational ability," Michael said teasingly, "This is the same idiot that jumped off a broom no more than five months ago."

"You're never going to let me live that down huh, Corner?" Harry said as he shook his head.

"Nope," Michael responded with a grin.

Harry's attention was turned from the conversation as he pulled his eyes away from Lynch who was currently being revived by an entire trolley of potions towards Krum who had risen into the air and circled for a moment before stopping. "Are you watching his eyes, Potter?" Cedric asked quietly and Harry nodded, he was indeed, and what he saw magnetized him.

Scanning was nothing new, all Seeker's needed it as an essential ability, but as Harry remembered his first impressions of Krum's hawk-like features, he concurred it was more than looks. Now, Harry was certain that if it were possible, Krum had the eyes of a hawk transplanted into his skull, as the eighteen-year-old Seeker scanned the field menacingly.

Both Harry and Krum's concentration were broken by cheers from the green-clad supporters as Lynch finally rose to his feet. Harry watched but his amazement was only outdone by Daphne who seemed to marvel at the speed in which the Medical staff was able to revive Lynch. Harry smiled as he whispered, "Maybe you can be the healer on my team if I go pro."

Harry had expected Daphne to fire back with sarcasm, but his smile only grew as Daphne spoke in awe, "Yeah, maybe."

"Lynch is up!" Bagman spoke in glee, "Referee Mostafa! When you're ready, restart the game!"

A blow of the referee's whistle started the game once more, and Harry couldn't believe how quickly the game was picked up once more. He watched as he realized that Lynch's revival had given the Irish a second wind, but it had also made it painfully obvious to everyone watching that Krum was the better seeker. But the Irish didn't let that deter them, and Harry had to split his attention between the onslaught of goals scored by the Irish and the fact that Tracey looked about ready to burst with glee at any moment.

And then, the whistle blew. For a moment, Harry stood there in motionless confusion. The game was over, and Harry didn't understand why. The Bulgarians were only two goals shy of a possible victory, and yet, Krum had decided to end the game. "An honorable move," Harry heard Remus call from behind him, "Or a selfish one depending on how you look at it."

Harry noticed he wasn't the only one to turn to Remus in confusion as Michael, Neville, and Cedric all did the same, and with the patience of a true professor, Remus continued, "The Bulgarians were going to being fouling, you can see they were becoming more aggressive by the minute. Krum ended the game before any shame could come to the team due to their tactics. I suppose he saw it as an honorable defeat being worth more than a shameful victory. Though his teammates may find this a bit selfish as had they only scored two more times, they could have won. Either way, Krum wins, he's proven he's the best professional seeker in the world."

Harry understood, but he didn't much care for the tactic, sure it may have been honorable, but Harry didn't much like the idea of preserving one's own fame over the efforts given by every member of the team. All the same, the whistle blew, and though Harry had found it terribly anti-climactic, the 1994 Quidditch World Cup had come to a close.

(Astoria P.O.V)

Astoria had never been in a situation where she had been so miffed about her team winning. What made it worse was that Damyan was equally as miffed about how his team lost. Still, with a sad smile, Astoria turned to her new friend and spoke, "So um, it was nice meeting you, maybe if I ever come to Bulgaria we'll see each other again."

"I don't think it'll take that long," Damyan said with a smile, "You go to Hogwarts, yes?" Astoria nodded in affirmation and Damyan's smile grew even wider as he said in a pleasant tone, "Then it looks like I'll be seeing you sooner than you think."

Astoria had wanted to ask many more questions, but before she could even think of where to start, Damyan had dipped down, kissing her hand gently before following after his father who had since left the Minister's box after revealing his knowledge of English to Fudge who seemingly curled himself up into a ball of embarrassment before him and his private detail apparated away.

Astoria turned her focus to the large stadium clock that once shone in bright purple with advertisements that now simply read: Ireland Wins!" and below it, the time of 11:42 p.m. Astoria yawned loudly, and as she watched Draco, her father, and Lucius all seem to break away, she wanted to take this chance to reunite with Harry and Daphne. She had quickly picked up her bag, ensuring her wand was safely stored away before she began moving to the exit of the Minister's box. Just before her hand was able to push against the door, another firm hand gripped her shoulder and she found herself face to face with Narcissa Malfoy.

"Can I help you?" Astoria spoke a bit irritated by the constant stream of delays.

"Don't stay here," Narcissa spoke with a soft voice that shone with fear, "Go back home with your mother."

"I'm not going anywhere without my sister," Astoria spoke firmly.

"Fine," Narcissa spoke with a sigh full of heartache, "Get your sister and be out of here by midnight. Intelligent pure-blood women are becoming harder and harder to come by, I don't want anything happening to you."

"What do you mean by tha-," Astoria started but before she could even finish her sentence, Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared into the crowd outside the minister's box, and Astoria felt her hand start to tremble as she muttered to herself, "They're planning to attack here? I gotta find Harry and Daphne, quickly."

Astoria had wanted to call for Dobby to pop her away, but she could hardly get a word out as her short stature made her feel like a muggle-pinball being pushed around from person to person as the stands cleared. 11:54, she read by the time she had finally reached the bottom of the stands, gasping for air. Gotta find Harry or Daphne. Damn it, where are their tents?

Astoria felt her mind focus as the crying of a young boy caught her attention. He was shorter than her, tears streaming down his eyes as he cried out, "Mommy! Daddy where are you!"

She knew she needed to find Harry, informing them of what she suspected was a priority, but if she was right, she couldn't simply leave a kid no older than six all by himself. She swallowed hard as she approached the kid and with Harry's calming smile in mind, she imitated the kind look as she spoke, "Hey there kiddo, did you lose your mom?"

"Y-yes," The boy said with his bottom lip quivering. "I-I'm scared."

"It's okay," Astoria said as calmly as she could, "I'm going to help you okay? Do you know where your tent was?"

"B-by the foodstuff," He spoke his voice trembling from holding back his tears.

That's all the way on the other side, Astoria cursed to herself but kept a gentle demeanor as she spoke, "Alright, I know where that is, come on, let's get you back to your parents."

"Really?" The boy said a thankful shimmer in his eyes.

"Yeah," Astoria said with a smile as she took the boy's hand, and as she looked at the clock in the stadium, she pondered, How many kids just like him are here? Too young to even have a wand. The stadium clock shifted to midnight, and Astoria whispered, "Please let me be wrong." But there was no such luck as, in horror, she watched as the sky lit up a miasmic green and from the center of it, a skull with a snake peering out of its mouth. Astoria's hand trembled slightly as she looked up at the sigil, and through gritted teeth, she muttered, "Damn it all."