Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003585181
Chapter 2: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003585386
Chapter 3: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003589099
Chapter 4: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003589999
Tags: @MeowTasticCat @Bellatrisblack @Diantha Angelina Black @CatsAndRoblox
Chapter Five: Bagman and Crouch
Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.
‘Morning, Basil,’ said Mr Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.
‘Hello there, Arthur,’ said Basil wearily. ‘Not on duty, eh? It’s all right for some...We’ve been here all night...You’d better get out of the way, we’ve got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at seven. Hang on, I’ll find your campsite...Weasley...Weasley...’
He consulted his parchment list. ‘About a quarter of a mile’s walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager’s called Mr Roberts. Diggory...second field...ask for Mr Payne. Lupin-Black...also first field, about a dozen tents further than the Weasley’s.’
‘Thanks, Basil,’ said Mr Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.
Sirius also stated his gratitude, ‘Good day Mr Basil.’
They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. They said good-bye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door.
A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.
‘Morning!’ said Mr Weasley brightly.
‘Morning,’ said the Muggle.
‘Would you be Mr Roberts?’
‘Aye, I would,’ said Mr Roberts. ‘And who’re you?’
‘Weasley—two tents, booked a couple of days ago?’
‘And Lupin-Black-one tent, booked around the same time,’ said Remus.
‘Aye,’ said Mr Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door.
‘Weasley, you’ve got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?’
‘That’s it,’ said Mr Weasley.
‘And Lupin-Black, your close to their, just eleven spots further. You’ll both be paying now, then?’ said Mr Roberts.
Ah—right—certainly—‘ said Mr Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage while Remus handed Mr Roberts their fee.
While Remus paid, Mr Weasley beckoned Harry toward him. ‘Help me, Harry,’ he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. ‘This one’s a—a—a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now...So this is a five?’
‘A twenty,’ Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr Roberts trying to catch every word.
‘Ah yes, so it is...I don’t know, these little bits of paper...’
‘You foreign?’ said Mr Roberts as Mr Weasley returned with the correct notes.
‘Foreign?’ repeated Mr Weasley, puzzled.
‘You’re not the first one who’s had trouble with money,’ said Mr Roberts, scrutinizing Mr Weasley closely. ‘I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago.’
‘Did you really?’ said Mr Weasley nervously.
Mr Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.
‘Never been this crowded,’ he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. ‘Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up...’
‘Is that right?’ said Mr Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr Roberts didn’t give it to him.
‘Aye,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There’s a bloke walking ’round in a kilt and a poncho.’
‘Shouldn’t he?’ said Mr. Weasley anxiously.
‘It’s like some sort of...I dunno...like some sort of rally,’ said Mr Roberts. ‘They all seem to know each other. Like a big party.’
At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr Roberts’s front door.
‘Obliviate!’ he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr Roberts. Instantly, Mr Roberts’s eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.
‘A map of the campsite for you,’ Mr Roberts said placidly to Mr Weasley. ‘And your change.’
‘Thanks very much,’ said Mr Weasley.
The wizard in plus-fours accompanied the eleven of them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr Roberts, he muttered to Mr Weasley, ‘Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman’s not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I’ll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur.’
The man then disapparated.
Mr Weasley looked disappointedly at Sirius and Remus.
‘Mr Bagman should know better than to be talking about wizarding matters in front of muggles at his high rank.'
Remus patted him on the back, 'It has been my experience that wizards that are at the very top enjoy enforcing rules onto everyone but themselves.'
'That sadly is often the case,' Mr Weasley agreed. 'And Ludo’s always been a bit...well...lax about security. You couldn’t wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had.'
They all trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.
'Always the same,' said Mr. Weasley, smiling. 'We can’t resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us.' They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read weezly.
'Couldn’t have a better spot!' said Mr Weasley happily. 'We'll start setting up our tent, we'll meet up with you all once we are all done pitching the tents.'
'Agreed, we'll see you in an hour or two, Arthur,' Sirius said with a smile.
They continued on just a bit further towards their site, unlike the Weasley's however they did not need a sign to know which spot was theirs. Surrounding the sign that said Lupin-Black was dozens of dog treats. Remus sighed and turned to Harry, 'Collect all the dog biscuits, you can give them to Fang when you return to Hogwarts.'
After being outed as a werewolf at the beginning of the summer, Remus decided there was no longer a reason to wait to publish his book "Where For The Werewolf". The was experiencing some positive outcomes which made it worth it, but the more common outcome was that anyone who didn't already know Remus was a werewolf in June did know now. They had received a lot of hate mail, almost no wizard had come to the cafe, and now their site was covered in dog treats.
Sirius tried to lighten the situation by changing the subject. 'Did you all know the game field is right on the other side of the wood there, we’re right next to where the game will take place.' He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. 'Well,' he said hesitantly, 'we best get to work, there is no magic allowed with muggles watching, so we’ll be putting the tent up by hand.' No one but Sirius had ever pitched a tent, so they all followed his lead. With Sirius' instruction, a bit of logic, and a great deal of hard work they got the poles and pegs where they should be, and raised a half decent tent.
All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at their tent would guess it belonged to wizards, Harry thought. Although another thought then occurred to him, there was five of them, and this tent looked as though it only had room to comfortably fit two people, and two of them would be transforming tonight.
'Um, Sirius, did we get the right size muggle tent?'
'Muggle? Oh, this is no muggle tent, its just meant to loo like that on the outside. Come see.'
Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an eighties, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Two of the bedrooms looked ordinary enough, while the third looked like it was more sturdy and had a small amount of sound proofing.
'This was originally my tent for when I go on adventures across the country side, but I altered the spell yesterday to fit all of us and give a safe space for Remus ad Canini tonight.'
Remus brought in the box containing their food. He pulled out a couple empty two litre water containers. 'I'll need you kids to go fetch some water.'
'Where do we get water?' Harry asked.
'I think I saw something on the map the muggle man gave us, not to long of a walk.' said Theodore.
'Then it is settled, you four will go fill up these containers while me and Remus start a fire,' said Sirius excitedly.
'Fire?' said Canini, 'Why do we need a fire, we have a stove right there.'
'When muggles camp they use out side fires to roast their food and that sounds really fun. Don't worry, anything that can't be cooked right with a fire we'll just sneak back inside and use the stove. Now off you all go.'
As they headed out they passed the Weasley's two tents, where Ron, Fred, and George were also sent out to fetch water. Canini decided to stay behind to hang out with the girls, leaving the six boys venturing out to find the spigot on the map.
Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Harry how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never been surrounded by so many magical folk, let along magical folk from so many different countries and cultures.
Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; Harry rarely got to see witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.
'How many times, Kevin? You don’t—touch—Daddy’s—wand—yecchh!'
She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy’s yells—'You bust slug! You bust slug!'
A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass, Harry vaguely remembered owning a similar one when he was little. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, Theodore, Terence, and the Weasley’s he muttered distractedly, 'In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose—'
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: the salem witches’ institute. Harry caught snatches of conversation in foreign languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn’t understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.
'Er—is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?' said Ron.
'Aye, your eyes do not deceive you, Weasley,' Terence said excitedly.
They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, Harry heard someone call the Weasley's names.
'Ron! Fred! George!'
It was Seamus Finnigan, a fourth year Gryffindor. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.
'Like the decorations?' said Seamus, grinning. 'The Ministry’s not too happy.'
The mother looked like she was about to speak, but Terence beat her too it, 'Like it? These tents are incredibly quare! I have never seen so many fellow Irish wizards. Its practically lashing pride!'
'Aye, why shouldn’t we show our colours?' said Mrs Finnigan happily. 'You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You’ll be supporting Ireland, of course?' she added, eyeing Harry, Theodore, and the Weasleys beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, 'Like we’d say anything else surrounded by that lot.'
'We are going to win,' said Terence, 'The Irish are the best of the best this year.'
'Mrs Finnigan mentioned the Bulgarian tents were just as prideful.' said Theodore.
'Let’s go and have a look,' said Harry, they said goodbye to the Weasley's and made their way to a large patch of tents upheld, where the Bulgarian flag—white, green, and red—was fluttering in the breeze.
The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.
'Viktor Krum,' said Theodore quietly.
'That's what he looks like?' said Terence.
'Yes,' said Harry, 'one of the youngest Seekers to ever play in the World Cup.' Krum!” said Ron.
“He doesn't look very happy,” said Terence, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.
'He is just stone faced' Theodore raised his eyes to the heavens. 'I sure he smiles when he catches the Snitch, which he has done dozens of times. You will see this afternoon.'
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Theodore, and Terence joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pin-striped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
'Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap. You can’t walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate’s already getting suspicious—'
'I bought this in a Muggle shop,' said the old wizard stubbornly. 'Muggles wear them.'
'Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,' said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.
'I’m not putting them on,' said old Archie in indignation. 'I like a healthy breeze ’round my privates, thanks.'
The conversation was getting awkward fast, Harry was trying to think of an excuse to run back to their tent when Archie had collected his water and moved away.
Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Lucian Bole, a Beater of Harry and Terence's Quidditch team, who was about to start his final year, dragged Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him, and told him about the summer he was having, he also mentioned he had seen Allison Runcorn about an hour earlier. Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year Harry was friendly with, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. More to stop Terence from smirking than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.
'Who d’you reckon they are?' he said. 'They don’t go to Hogwarts, do they?'
'They must be from different magic schools world wide,' said Theodore curiously. 'If I had to take a guess I would say they are from Durmstrang, but they could be from other schools as well.'
They finally arrived back at there camp, where they were greeted with a roaring fire. The three boys were heading towards the tent to drop off the containers, but Harry was so focused on the water that he tripped and the entire container spilled onto the fire. Harry was mortified, but Sirius assured him it was alright. Remus packed up their food and they made their way to the Weasley’s camp. Their fire wasn’t lit yet but it was at least dry.
‘Hello Arthur,’ said Sirius chipperly, ‘we had a bit of an indecent with our fire. May we share with you?’
‘Course,’ said Mr Weasley, ‘but I think I might need some help getting it started.’
Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but Mr Weasley looked as though he was having the time of his life.
‘Oops!’ he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
‘I can help, Arthur,’ said Remus kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.
At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. The Weasley’s tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry’s family’s benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.
‘That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office...Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he’s with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he’s had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he’s an Obliviator—member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that’s Bode and Croaker...they’re Unspeakables...’
‘They’re what?’ asked Harry.
‘Unspeakable work in the Department of Mysteries,’ Remus explained. ‘Their work is strictly top secret, even during my time as an auror I never learned a single thing about their work.’
At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them just before noon.
'Just Apparated, Dad,’ said Percy loudly. ‘Ah, excellent, lunch!’
They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. 'Aha!' he said. 'The man of the moment! Ludo!'
Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
'Ahoy there!' Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.
'Arthur, old man,' he puffed as he reached the campfire, 'what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless day...and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements...Not much for me to do!'
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.
'Ah—yes,' said Mr Weasley, grinning, 'this is my son Percy. He’s just started at the Ministry—and this is Fred—no, George, sorry—that’s Fred—Bill, Charlie, Ron—my daughter, Ginny—and these are some friends of mine, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin and their kids Canini Howling, Theodore Nott, Harry Potter, and Harry's friend Terence Higgs.'
Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry’s name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry’s forehead.
'Everyone,' Mr Weasley continued, 'this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it’s thanks to him we’ve got such good tickets—' Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.
'Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?' he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. 'I’ve already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first—I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in years—and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.'
'Oh...go on then,' said Mr Weasley. 'Let’s see...a Galleon on Ireland to win?'
'A Galleon?' Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. 'Very well, very well...any other takers?'
'They’re a bit young to be gambling,' said Mr. Weasley. ;Molly wouldn’t like—'
'We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,' said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, 'that Ireland wins—but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we’ll throw in a fake wand.'
'You don’t want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that—' Percy hissed, but Bagman didn’t seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
'Excellent! I haven’t seen one that convincing in years! I’d pay five Galleons for that!'
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
'Boys,' said Mr Weasley under his breath, 'I don’t want you betting...That’s all your savings...Your mother—'
'Don’t be a spoilsport, Arthur!' boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. 'They’re old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum’ll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I’ll give you excellent odds on that one...We’ll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we...'
Mr Weasley looked on helpless as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins’ names.
'Cheers,' said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully.
'And I will take that Ireland will win for two Galleon,' Terence called out.
'Who might you be young man?' Bagman asked, seemingly interested in making two more Galleons in profit.
'Terence Higgs sir, Bertie Higgs nephew.'
'Alright, Two Galleons that Ireland wins for Mr Higgs.' Bagman then turned most cheerfully back to Mr Weasley.
'Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.'
'Mr Crouch? said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. 'He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll...'
'Anyone can speak Troll,' said Fred dismissively. 'All you have to do is point and grunt.'
Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
'Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?' Mr Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.
'Not a dicky bird,' said Bagman comfortably. 'But she’ll turn up. Poor old Bertha...memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She’ll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it’s still July.'
Sirius turned to the kids, 'We should probably get going, only a few hours until the game starts. Finish your eggs.'
Mr Weasley continued as Percy handed Bagman his tea, 'You don’t think it might be time to send someone?'
'Barty Crouch keeps saying that,' said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, 'but we really can’t spare anyone at the moment. Oh—talk of the devil! Barty!'
A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Harry could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.
'Pull up a bit of grass, Barty,' said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
No thank you, Ludo,' said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. 'I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box.'
'Oh is that what they’re after?' said Bagman. 'I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent.'
'Mr Crouch!' said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback.
'Would you like a cup of tea?'
'Oh,' said Mr Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. 'Yes—thank you, Weatherby.'
Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.
'Oh and I’ve been wanting a word with you too, Arthur,' said Mr Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr Weasley. 'Ali Bashir’s on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets.'
Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.
'I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I’ve told him once I’ve told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?'
'I doubt it,' said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. 'He’s desperate to export here.'
'Well, they’ll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?' said Bagman.
Remus had risen, as if to say it was time for them to leave, but Sirius grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.
'Ali thinks there’s a niche in the market for a family vehicle,' said Mr Crouch. 'I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve—but that was before carpets were banned, of course.'
He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.
'So, been keeping busy, Barty?' said Bagman breezily.
'Fairly,' said Mr Crouch dryly. 'Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo.'
'I expect you’ll both be glad when this is over?' said Mr Weasley.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked.
'Glad! Don’t know when I’ve had more fun...Still, it’s not as though we haven’t got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?'
Mr Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.
'We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—'
'Oh details!' said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. 'They’ve signed, haven’t they? They’ve agreed, haven’t they? I bet you anything these kids’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s happening at Hogwarts—'
'Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know,' said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman’s remarks short. 'Thank you for the tea, Weatherby.'
He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.
'See you all later!' he said. 'You’ll be up in the Top Box with me—I’m commentating!' He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.
'What’s happening at Hogwarts, Dad?' said Fred at once. 'What were they talking about?'
'You’ll find out soon enough,' said Mr Weasley, smiling.
'Well,' said Remus, 'it is past time we get back to our own tent. Much we have to do before the game starts. Thank you Arthur for letting us share your fire.'
As all five of them headed back, Remus elbowed Sirius, 'What was that all about, we should have left over half an hour ago.'
Sirius, rubbing his ribs, had a mischievous smile, 'Sorry Moons, the drama was getting to good, I had to see where it leaded. Speaking of Moons we should probably get you and Canini your potions before we head to the game.'
Harry was still thinking about one of the last things Bagman had said, 'Sirius, what is happening at Hogwarts this year?'
'I am not actually sure Harry, must be very big if both Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman are involved. You will probably learn once you are back at school.'
A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By two the days heat was at its peak, however the angle of the sun was allowing some shade. For the thousands of waiting wizards, the last of their restraint had depleted: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.
Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
'This is absolutely the best day of my life,' Terence told Harry as they all strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Terence bought as many Irish souvenirs as his pocket money would allow, Harry and the others each bought a dancing shamrock hat, while Theodore also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Theodore’s hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.
'Wow, look at those omnioculars!' said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked somewhat like muggle binoculars, except that they were covered with brass and all sorts of weird knobs and dials.
'Ever use omnioculars before?' asked the saleswizard eagerly. 'You can replay action...slow everything down...and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain—ten Galleons each.'
'I'll take one,' said a familiar voice.
Harry turned around to see his good friend Allison Runcorn. 'Allison, I had heard you were here, but couldn't find the Runcorn tent.'
'That is because my father is actually working, our tent is with the rest of the people who put this event together.
Harry picked up and paid for his own omnioculars. 'Where are you sitting?'
'I was going to sit close to wherever my father is stationed to guard, but now I will just come and find you. Being the daughter of a high ranking auror has its advantages.'
'Ok then. I got to go, but I'll see you soon.'
His money bag considerably lighter, he went back to meet up with his family and the Weasleys. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes, both Mr Weasley and Terence were carrying an Irish flag, and Remus had his cookies and fresh bread ready. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.
And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path through the brief woods.
'It’s time!' said Mr Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. 'Come on, let’s go!'
'Everyone better have everything,' said Sirius, 'because it is game time and there is no going back!'