Chapter 155 — Under the Stadium Lights

The programme devoted a short paragraph to the rules and considerably more space to why we would remember this match for the rest of our lives. Ireland against Bulgaria was being called a preview of the final, though other fixtures remained and presumably their players still hoped to be involved.

I stopped at the time limit. ‘Four hours?’ I said, holding the page where Harry could see it. ‘If nobody catches the Snitch, the score decides the result.’

He leaned across to read it. ‘They can’t let every match keep going,’ he said. ‘Not with the rest of the competition to fit in.’

‘It gives the other six players something important to do.’ I glanced at Ron, who had been describing Krum’s chances since we sat down.

‘They already have something important to do,’ Harry said. Ron heard his name as I suggested explaining that to him, and began defending his favourite player before anyone had accused him of anything.

I turned through the team entries, pausing at England’s. The restored competition had attracted teams far beyond tonight’s two, although the people cheering below seemed content to let everyone else wait. Stewards were clearing the pitch for the introductions when Harry stood and asked where the toilets were.

I pointed towards the stairs and told him to ask an usher if he missed the sign. He went out while Fred and George leaned towards the front of the box, trying to identify figures on the far side of the ground.

Fudge began speaking. Ron listened for perhaps half a minute before deciding he needed the toilet as well, muttering that one more mention of a wonderful occasion would have sent him out anyway.

He came back much sooner than expected. Something in his face made me close the programme before he said that Lucius Malfoy had stopped Harry near the stairs.

Arthur was already standing. ‘Where exactly?’ he asked, taking a step towards the entrance.

‘On the landing. He’s got that stick across Harry’s arm.’ Ron led him out, and we followed while Bill stayed at the entrance to keep the way clear.

Lucius’s silver-headed cane lay hooked across Harry’s sleeve. Draco stood beside his father, looking towards us as Arthur stepped between them and lifted the cane away.

‘Harry. Come along.’ Arthur stayed beside him while he pulled his arm back, smoothing the fabric where the stick had pressed it against his skin.

‘Arthur,’ Lucius said. ‘I hadn’t expected you on this level. Have you finally sold that house?’

‘No.’ Arthur moved to let Harry pass behind him. Lucius remained where he was, making the landing feel narrower despite the space around us.

‘Then we have your generous young patron to thank.’ His gaze found me. ‘The Ministry’s largest sponsor. Quite an achievement.’

‘I invited my friends to watch a match,’ I said. ‘You seem to be making rather more work of it.’

‘Some people can afford to buy company.’ He rested the cane against the floor, its silver head catching the light beside his hand.

‘And some have to stop it on the stairs.’ Ron made a noise which failed to become a cough, and Draco stepped closer to his father.

‘We’re in the Minister’s box,’ he said. ‘We don’t need anything from you.’

‘Then Harry can return to his seat without your keeping him here.’ I looked past Draco to Lucius, who was watching Harry rather than answering me.

I remembered the diary, the bookshop and Ginny carrying something into Hogwarts which had nearly killed her. His expression supplied no clue whether he was thinking of any of those things, or simply choosing what would annoy us next.

‘Enjoy the Minister’s hospitality,’ I said. ‘It must be reassuring to have friends when people start asking awkward questions.’

Lucius looked back at me. ‘Be careful which questions concern you, Mercer.’ His voice stayed pleasantly quiet, though the warning needed no extra volume to reach us.

‘I have reason to be interested.’ I had another answer ready when Arthur put a hand lightly against my arm and reminded us that the match was about to start.

I let it go. Lucius looked entirely willing to keep talking, and I did not intend to give him any more of the evening than he had already taken.

At our entrance, I asked the usher to send a jug of water to the Minister’s guests. ‘Mr Malfoy has been doing a great deal of talking,’ I explained. ‘Please give him my compliments.’

The usher glanced past me and managed a careful expression before agreeing. Behind us, Lucius asked whether I imagined money could settle everything.

‘No,’ I said, turning towards him. ‘That’s why I hoped to spend the evening with people I trust.’ I went inside before he could keep me on the landing with another question.

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Harry sat with his hands clasped between his knees. When Hermione asked what had happened, he described Lucius approaching him deliberately, asking about the summer and mentioning people who were enjoying their freedom for the moment.

‘He told me to enjoy myself while I could.’ Harry looked towards the open entrance, where Bill was waiting for Arthur.

Arthur asked him to repeat the exact words, then went to speak to the usher. I watched the passage until he returned and told Harry to let him know immediately if Lucius came back.

I could not decide whether he had wanted only to frighten Harry or had meant us to hear something more particular. That uncertainty was unpleasant enough without treating it as proof of something I could not yet name.

Luna touched my hand and asked me to sit with her. I did, putting the programme down as a roar rose from the stadium below.

Green and white swept over the pitch. Seven Irish players wheeled past the stands, their formation breaking apart and coming together again with an ease which concealed whatever practice it had taken. Fireworks opened above them, bright dancing figures dissolving into sparks when the team turned beneath them.

‘Troy!’ Ron shouted, pointing towards the Chasers. ‘Mullet and Moran—look at them!’

One glanced sideways just before a turn. The others moved with him almost immediately, and I was still following their formation when Charlie raised his binoculars towards the opposite entrance.

Red cut across the far end of the pitch. A new sound gathered through the crowd until thousands of people had found the same name, shouting for Krum while Ron tried to point him out to Harry and me at once.

The photographs had given me his face. They had done little to explain what he could do with a broom: he shifted his balance, rose above the shaft and held himself for an instant on one hand while it continued turning. Then he settled back as neatly as though he had adjusted his sleeve.

‘That was ridiculous,’ I said. Harry laughed without looking away, and Ron’s expression suggested he had finally seen sufficient evidence to settle every argument he had ever had about the man.

The players took their places. At the whistle, the Quaffle began moving faster than I could follow, and my attempt to watch everything lasted only until a Bludger scattered a promising attack below the Seekers’ first climb.

Ireland scored. The noise swallowed Ron’s explanation, leaving me to watch the players recover their positions and try to understand where the space had opened.

I followed the next pass more easily by looking ahead of the player with the ball. At Hogwarts, a gap sometimes lasted long enough to be obvious; here someone entered it almost before I understood why the previous pass had been made. The movement kept drawing me away from the two Seekers circling high above.

Harry leaned forward. ‘Did you see how he made him turn?’ he asked, following Krum towards the lower end of the pitch.

‘I was watching the Quaffle.’ I found the red robes again as the other Seeker pulled out of a dive behind him. ‘Did he see something?’

‘I don’t think so. He made it look as though he had.’ Harry watched them climb, shaking his head with a delighted smile. ‘I’d have followed him.’

He described the movement to Charlie a few minutes later, using his hand as he had at breakfast. This time he had seen it performed faster and at a much less forgiving angle, and Charlie pointed towards the player Krum had drawn away before answering.

‘Thinking of trying it?’ I asked when Harry sat back. He grinned without pretending the thought had not occurred to him.

‘Not all at once.’ His eyes returned to the pitch. ‘I’d like to play at this level, though.’

He said the last part quietly, beneath the crowd. When I leaned closer, he added that having people shout because of something he had just done with a broom would be worth working for.

Ireland scored again before I could answer properly. I clapped him on the shoulder, and he stood with the rest of us, cheering for a play which had very little to do with being Harry Potter.

Luna had followed the Quaffle. When we sat down, she asked whether the Keeper had seen the pass coming or guessed where it would go, and I admitted I wished I knew.

‘Perhaps both,’ she said. We watched the next attack together, her hand resting in mine until she needed it to point out a movement near the hoops.

The match gave us much more than Krum. A save drew a shout from Arthur which made Ginny laugh; an Irish Beater drove a Bludger through a space I would have thought too narrow to matter; Troy, Mullet and Moran kept finding one more pass.

Ireland’s lead grew while I tried to follow them. I was watching a struggle near the hoops when Harry gripped the edge of his seat and pointed towards the diving Seekers.

I found Krum’s red robes, lost them behind another player and caught sight of him again as he reached out. For a moment his hand looked empty. Then he raised it, and Ron was on his feet before I understood what I had missed.

The scoreboard changed. Krum had caught the Snitch, but Ireland still had more points, and the Irish players were already turning towards one another in celebration.

Arthur sat back with the astonished satisfaction of someone whose prediction had survived contact with the actual event. Fred looked at George; neither needed to speak before their grins widened.

We stayed for the teams’ circuit. Harry kept glancing towards the place where the Snitch had appeared, trying to explain which movement had made him notice Krum’s dive.

‘I didn’t see it until he had it,’ he said. He leaned against the front of the box, looking at the now empty patch of air.

‘You saw him go,’ I pointed out. Harry said that was not the same, but the smile returned before he straightened.

‘I’ll have to get better.’ He picked up his programme as Arthur began gathering us, still looking back towards the pitch between steps.

Outside, the screens showed the players saluting the crowd. People leaving the benches argued about the finish with as much authority as those coming out of the stadium, which I chose to count as evidence that the arrangements had worked.

The twins collected their winnings before rejoining us. When I asked whether they had remembered to count the money, they said they had remembered who offered the useful advice, making Arthur laugh as he went to find out whether Percy had finished work.

Back at the tent, Ron climbed onto a chair to demonstrate Krum’s balance. He spread his arms, announcing that the man had finished the match his own way, and Hermione watched him with the expression she reserved for explanations which had become a performance.

‘You weren’t watching properly,’ Ron told her. ‘Did you see his face when he caught it?’

‘I’ve been watching you watch him,’ she said. ‘It’s almost as entertaining.’

Ron leaned further to one side, forcing me to put a hand against the chair. I told him it was not a broom and suggested coming down before he supplied a second demonstration of gravity.

He was still laughing when something outside failed to fit the sounds we had brought back from the stadium. I turned towards the entrance, and Luna asked what I had heard.

I lifted a hand. The room quietened enough for us to make out running feet, voices and something breaking, followed by a cry which carried over the rest.

Arthur came through the entrance without closing it. His wand was already in his hand, and the look he gave the room ended the last scraps of conversation.

‘Everyone up,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving. Now.’