"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS —good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"Fred and George did," Cassie laughed, clapping the boys on their back, "Good lord, you two actually won the bet!"
"When I said I was sure," Fred chuckled mirthfully.
"He meant it!" George completed, jumping up and down as the crowd erupted in cheers.
Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the TopBox!" roared Bagman.
Cassie's eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers — Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.
And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Cassie could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.
One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Simon was dragging his feet, feeling rather too dejected at their loss. When he met Cassie's gaze, the girl shrugged and mouthed, "You did well. I'm still proud of you," making him break into a little grin.
Victor, who was last in line, looked like a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Cassie jumped down from her seat to the rails to talk to him.
"Честито! Хванахте доносника!" she said, trying to make him feel better.
(Translation: "Congratulations! You caught the snitch!")
"все пак не спечелихме," Viktor grunted.
(Translation: "we didn't win though,")
"не променя факта, че ти си брилянтен търсач и че ти беше този, който хвана доносника." Cassie assured, patting his back.
(Translation: "doesn't change the fact that you're a brilliant seeker and that you were the one who caught the snitch.")
"Благодаря," Viktor shrugged, giving her a weak smile before heading up to shake hands with the Minister. When Viktor's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.
(Translation: "Thanks,")
And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Harry's hands were numb with clapping.
At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honour on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."
"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "A really unexpected twist, that. . . shame it couldn't have lasted longer. . . . Ah yes. . . . yes, I owe you . . . how much?"
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𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 | f. weasley
Fanfiction( the golden trio era ) the one in which the prankster finds his peace in the girl with secrets ❝She's the exception. She has and always will be; not because she's the most powerful witch of her age. It's because she is too unique to be like the...
