ribs 'this dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets, and I've never felt more alone'
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"Oh how I've missed these so much..." Katrina sighed, her eyes closed as she chewed on her sausage in bread. "In Australia these are a delicacy. Where did you find them, Arthur?"
Mr Weasley looked up from over the firepit. "Molly bought them, said they were a good camping food."
"Why are you eating a sausage like that?" Fred asked, sitting down between Lyra and Katrina.
"The real question is why aren't you eating sausages like this. You are all completely uncultured. Except Ginny." She sent the younger girl a smile.
Ginny returned the smile, biting into her sausage in bread. "It tastes way better the Aussie way, Katrina and Melanie are right."
"It's true," Melanie said. "Australians do everything right." She paused, "Well not everything, but snags are one of them."
They were halfway through their lunch when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding towards them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was by far the most noticeable person Lyra could have encountered at the Cup. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal strips 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 where he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, she thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy. He oddly reminded her of Professor Lockheart.
"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? A cloudless night coming... 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 magical fire which was sending violet sparks twenty feet in the air.
The four best friends exchanged smirks as Percy hurried forwards 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.
Lyra zoned out of what the older men were saying, only offering a small smile when she was introduced to Bagman. Her attention returned to the group when she saw Fred and George pool out all their money.
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen sickles, three knuts," said Fred as he and George held their money out, "that Ireland win - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."
