Chapter 175
Finally, the fire was ready, and they had just begun cooking when Charlie, Percy, and Bill arrived. Bill shouted cheerfully,
"Hey! We just moved our tent, Mum and Dad! Ah… perfect timing, lunch is ready!"
As they all dug eagerly into the food, Mr. Weasley suddenly sprang to his feet and called out,
"Ludo! My dear fellow! Over here!"
Ludo Bagman was, by far, the most striking person Albert had seen that day.
He was wearing an old Quidditch uniform yellow and black horizontal stripes with a large wasp emblem emblazoned across the chest. His build was still powerful, though he'd clearly grown softer with age; the uniform strained against his round belly, a stark contrast to his fit figure back when he played for the English national team. His nose looked slightly crooked Albert suspected it had once collided with a Bludger but his short blond hair and bright blue eyes gave him a boyish, energetic air.
Bagman greeted Mr. Weasley warmly and strode toward them.
Mr. Weasley quickly began the introductions:
"This is my wife, Molly, and my son Percy he's just started at the Ministry. This is Fred no, sorry, George! and here's Bill, Charlie, Ron, and my daughter Ginny. And these are Ron's friends: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter… and Albert Black!"
As always, Ludo's eyes lingered briefly on Harry's forehead before moving on to the rest of the group. Mr. Weasley added proudly,
"Ludo's the reason we got such a perfect spot for our tents right near the stadium!"
Ludo waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, it was nothing, really! Actually, I was looking for Barty Crouch. One of the Bulgarian assistants is giving me a hard time keeps rambling in his native tongue and Barty's the only one who can understand him. Man speaks about a hundred and fifty languages!"
Percy blurted, almost reverently, "Mr. Crouch? He actually speaks more than two hundred!"
Mr. Weasley, changing the subject, asked, "Any news about Bertha Jorkins, Ludo?"
Bagman dropped onto the grass beside them and sighed.
"None so far, I'm afraid. Poor Bertha… She told me she was off to get a change of scenery. Said she was tired of the Ministry routine!"
Mr. Weasley frowned. "Don't you think it's time to send someone to look for her?"
"Crouch keeps saying the same thing," Bagman replied with a shrug. "But we're all short-staffed right now everyone's busy with the Cup, as you can see!"
Time passed quickly, and soon the group, led by Mr. Weasley, joined the stream of witches and wizards heading toward the forest path. Floating lamps illuminated the way as laughter, singing, and the thunder of thousands of excited footsteps echoed around them. The air buzzed with energy and anticipation. Even Albert, usually calm and collected, couldn't keep the smile off his face.
They walked for about twenty minutes through the woods before emerging on the other side where the sight before them took their breath away.
A massive, golden-walled stadium towered over them.
Even though Harry could see only one side of it, he immediately sensed how gigantic it truly was.
Mr. Weasley grinned at the look of awe on Harry's face.
"It seats a hundred thousand people! The Ministry's been preparing it for a full year layered it with Muggle-repelling charms, too. If any Muggle gets close, they suddenly remember an urgent appointment and hurry away. Poor souls!"
They headed toward the nearest entrance, where a dense crowd of witches and wizards had gathered.
One official called out to Mr. Weasley, "Top-box tickets, eh, Arthur? That's in the middle tier with Minister Fudge. Go as high as you can!"
The stairs were carpeted in rich purple velvet. They climbed higher and higher, passing groups of laughing spectators, until at last they reached a grand, private box reserved for VIP guests. Inside were already seated none other than the Malfoys Lucius and his son Draco.
At the very center stood about twenty plush crimson seats meant for the most important dignitaries. The entire Weasley family, along with Harry, Hermione, and Albert, filled nearly every spot.
Lucius Malfoy stiffened when he saw them enter. His voice rose in disdain as he turned to Minister Fudge.
"How dare you allow these… people in here? A family of paupers blood traitors! They disgrace every pure-blood name! And without even paying for proper tickets, I'll bet!"
Mr. Weasley calmly reached into his pocket and held up a set of shining VVIP tickets, smiling.
Malfoy froze, his expression twisting. There was no mistaking it those seats were legitimate. He couldn't believe the Weasleys had afforded ten top-tier tickets.
Minister Fudge turned sharply toward Lucius.
"Mind your tongue, Malfoy! You don't tell me what to do."
Lucius's cheeks flushed as he muttered something under his breath.
Ron's quiet chuckle and Harry's didn't go unnoticed. Draco clenched his fists, tempted to lunge at them, but his father's hand stopped him. They both sat down stiffly.
From their seats, the view was nothing short of spectacular. The oval pitch gleamed with a golden glow that seemed to radiate from within. Around them, a hundred thousand witches and wizards streamed to their places, their voices merging into a thunderous roar of excitement. At either end of the field stood three towering goal hoops, fifty feet high.
Harry, squinting, noticed something glimmering beside him a magnificent, gold-engraved pair of Omnioculars resting on the railing. He picked them up, pressed them to his eyes, and gasped as the world of Quidditch
snapped into crystal clarity before him.
To be continued ...