Before they knew it it was the game they had been waiting for. Harry was nervous about this one. He was new and Victor wasn't. Everyone was counting on him to win this game. All the Weasley's, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, all the Zabini, Nott, Malfoy's, Greengrass, John and his parents were there. Sarah had surprised him about this because she had said she was going to invite a few more people from Harry's school and family to the game as a surprise.

When the game was over Daphne had a surprise for him. One that she hoped he'll like.

"Well ladies and gentleman this is the moment we've all been waiting for. The Puddlemere United verses the Bulgarians! Harry Potter verses Victor Krum what a match this will be." the caller said.

Back at the locker room,

"Alright guys, this is the moment we've all been waiting for. We've been waiting for this for years, the game we have to beat the Bulgarians! It won't be easy but it's worth a shot!" Tom said.

"Yeah!" they all said together.

"Let's show them what we're made of now that we have a great seeker!" Alex said.

"I'll do the best I can." Harry said.

Then they headed to the field.

Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-third Quidditch World Cup!" Fudge said.

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, Puddlemere: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat.

"Aaah!"

He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes.

"Veela!"

Then a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field.

The veela had started to dance, and John's mind had gone completely and blissfully blank. All that mattered in the world was that he kept watching the veela, because if they stopped dancing, terrible things would happen.

And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half-formed thoughts started chasing through John's dazed mind. He wanted to do something very impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed a good idea...but would it be good enough?

"John, what are you doing?" said Hermione's voice from a long way off.

The music stopped. John blinked. He was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box. Next to him, Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard.

Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go.

John was with them; he would, of course, be supporting The Puddlemere since his brother was a member now.

"Here comes Max! Tom! Matt! Sam! Alex! Jack! And their newest member, Harry!"

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you -Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars.

"Hey, I know you like him but what about my brother? Shouldn't you be routing for him?" John asked.

"Sorry." Ron said.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chair wizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

Blaise spun the speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (John saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Matt! Tom! Max! Dimitrov! Back to Matt! Tom! Levski! Max!"

It was Quidditch as they had never seen it played before. James was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of his nose. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. James spun the slow dial on the right of his Omnioculars again, pressed the play-by-play button on the top, and he was immediately watching in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded against his eardrums.

HAWKS HEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, he read as he watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Tom in the center, slightly ahead of Matt and Max, bearing down upon the Bulgarians. PORSK OFF PLOY flashed up next, as Tom made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Max. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Max's path; Max ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it- "TOM SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers.

"Tenzero to Ireland!"

"What?" James yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"James, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" shouted Sirius, who was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Tom did a lap of honor around the field. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

Furious with himself, James spun his speed dial back to normal as play resumed.

John knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Pudlemere United Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Harry's chest kept squeaking their names: "Tom - Matt- Max!" And within ten minutes, England had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause.

The match became still faster, but more brutal.

Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the English Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Alex; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dancein celebration.

Draco screwed up his eyes too; he wanted to keep his mind on the game. After a few seconds, he chanced a glance at the field. The veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova -oh I say!" roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Harry, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. John followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was -

"They're going to crash!" screamed Daphne next to Draco.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off.

Harry did the same thing.

Everyone hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on his Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to his eyes.

They watched as Krum and Harry dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across his lenses. Krum saw Harry's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Sirius, John, Remus, Draco, Daphne, Theo and Blaise were flattened, and they understood - Harry hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Krum copy him. His friends had never seen anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and weightless. Then they all turned their Omnioculars back to normal and focused them on Harry. John, focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below.

The Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything they had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, England had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.

As Matt shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under his arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet him.

Whatever happened was over so quickly Harry didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the England crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told him it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to England!"

The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys and John stuffed their fingers into their ears, but Hermione, who hadn't bothered, was soon tugging on John's arm. He turned to look at her, and she pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears.

"Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

John looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right infront of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap there referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; John, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before...Oh this could turn nasty...

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him. Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for England!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms... yes... there they go... and Tom takes the Quaffle..."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Max, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking him off his broom.

"Foul!" roared the English supporters as one.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice.

"Dimitrov skins Max deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

John turned this way and that, staring through his Omnioculars, as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Max- Tom -Matt - Ivanova - MAX again -Matt- MATT SCORES!"

The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov -

The English Beater Sam swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle.

John wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though he was supporting England, next to his brother Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Harry!" Astoria yelled.

For Harry had suddenly gone into a dive, and Sirius was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing...

"He's seen the Snitch!" Sirius shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the English supporters rose in another great wave of red, screaming their Seeker on...but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Sirius had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Harry now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Harry is!" yelled Daphne.

And she was right - for the first time, Harry hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it — Harry's got it — it's all over!" shouted John.

Harry, his robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, ENGLAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"ENGLAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the English, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "HARRY GETS THE SNITCH — WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"How did he catch the snitch?" Ron bellowed, even as he applauding with his hands over his head.

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" John shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The England Chasers were too good. . . . He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all. . . ."

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Harry land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess. . . ."

John put his Omnioculars to his eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because mascots were zooming delightedly all over the field, but he could just make out Harry, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. Krum's team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking thrilled; a rejected way away, the Puddlemere United players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the English national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind John. He looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

"And as the English team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

John'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, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"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; John 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. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Harry noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the English team. Tom was being supported by Max and Alex; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Sam and Matt lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Daphne and the other Slytherins hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the English team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Max on the back of Alex'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?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

After the game and was all cleaned up Harry met up with his friends and family.

"That was awesome Harry!" Blaise said.

"Thanks. I'm a little tired and sore now but we won." Harry said smiling.

Daphne gave him a kiss and hug.

"That was by far the best game I've ever seen." she said.

"She's right pup. And that's saying something!" Sirius said.

While they talked Harry sat down and was proud of himself for beating the best seeker in the world.

He didn't know how much longer Krum will be the best with his history of school and now public games they wonder what will happen next season.

Then everyone headed to Potter Manor and celebrated.

Later that night Harry and Daphne were just laying there in Harry's room undressed with Daphne on his chest.

Then she looked at him.

"Harry?" she said.

"Yeah?" he said smiling.

"I'm pregnant." she said.

Alright guys, that's the end of this one. The sequel is up to you guys. If you want to know what happens next I'll think about it! Depends on how many people want it and owl me! Mischief Managed