A HUNDRED THOUSAND WITCHES AND wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Coventina's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard.

"QUIDDICTH MATCH!!" The Quidditch fans exclaims happily. Most were grinning from ear to ear while the non fans were groaning.

Gold writing kept dashing across it as
though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Coventina saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer ... Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain! ... Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade ...

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald 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. Coventina spun the speed dial on her 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 (she saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch.

"I wish I was there." James mumbles with a pout.

Achilles's chest shook with a small laugh. "Cute." He mumbles. "And mine."
He slowly addes quietly.

James rolles his eyes and grins.

With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls. "Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!" It was Quidditch as Coventina had never seen it played before. She 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.

"Is it wrong that I took Bagman as Batman?" A muggleborn says.

"Same!"

"Holy spirit, I thought too."

Coventina spun the slow dial on the right of her 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. Hawkshead Attacking Formation, she read as he watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians.

Porskoff Ploy flashed up next, as Troy
made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Moran. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path; Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it -

Anastacius sees Aelora about to open her mouth. "No comment about you girls' book boyfriend." Aelora's smile
fade away.

Draco smirks. "Which one?"

Aelora's eyes sparkles and she went back to smiling. "Volkov."

"Oh!!" Delphina grins. "Father or son?"

"Both." Alastor looks away, pouting. 'I am not jealous over an inexistent guy.'

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to
Ireland!" Coventina knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish 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, "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty- zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

"She totally get her love for quidditch from you, Prongs and Monty too!" Sirius says grining happily.

"She did." Fleamont nods.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish 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, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"I can not take it seriously if the guy's last name is Volkov." Aelora whispers.

"Same." Delphina agreed. They knows that if Coventina was in the mood, she would have agree with them.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration. Aelora screwed up her eyes too; she wanted to keep her mind on the game. After a few seconds, she 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.

"I want a russian boyfriend."

"Same here, the last names is too ugh!"

Coventina raise a brow. "Black, you are not russian." Coventina comments with
a small smirk. She could not let her curiousity ruin the nice mood of her friends and family.

Friends. What a weird taste on her tongue.

"By blood or by name?" Antares asks.

"Name."

Antares smirks. "I can have a russian last name if you so badly wish it, love."
Coventina brushes it off. But she was sure that Antares somehow had some connection with Russian wizards.

"Tsk. No need." She mumbles softly, loud enough for him to hear. She did
not miss the way his grin widen. It made
her heart skip a beat. Was that even possible? A heart can not skip beat by just looking at someone can it?

She stares at the screen in confusion. Lost in thought, she missed the smile she had brought upon his lips.

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

"They're going to crash!" screamed Granger behind Coventina. She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"The heck?!" Sirius groaned.

"Seriously?"

"No fair."

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!" "It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!" "He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course.

Coventina watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. Wronski Defensive Feint - dangerous Seeker diversion read the shining purple lettering across his lenses.

She saw Krum's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was
flattened, and he understood - Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him.

"That very smart of him." Regulus comments.

Coventina 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.

"Was that a compliment?" Delphina winks at Coventina.

"Just a thought about a good quidditch player." She replies.

Coventina turned her Omnioculars back to normal and focused them on Krum. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. Coventina, focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything her had seen so far.

Aelora watched amuse at Coventina's reaction at the games being played. Anastasius yawned, he found all of those too energetic for his own good.

"Yet you sat next to a ball of sunshine." Theodore points out.

"Tsk. Quiet it down, genius." Anastacius shrugs. Not minding the comment. After all Delphina was his sunshine.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland 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 Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper,

Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Coventima didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish 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 Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" 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 stuffed their fingers into their ears, but Granger who hadn't bothered, "Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

Some looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front 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 the 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;

"Thats a bit intense." Mary comments, eating popcorns which she finds delicious.

"Those games are boring." Thanatos says, ignoring the dramatic gasps from his descendants and the quidditch fans.

"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 seenbefore. ... 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, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE."

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 Ireland!" 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 Troy 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 Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom. "Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

"GO VOLKOV!"

Everyone turns to Aelora.

"What? I want to the name outloud!" She stucks out her tomgue and ignore the looks.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there- and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!" The leprechau- ns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the
veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns

Watching through her Omnioculars, Coventina saw that they didn't look
remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders -"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!" Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success;

meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Coventina turned this way and that, staring through his Omnioculars, as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"CAN WE GO HOME ALREADY?" Anastacius shouted

"You really hate loud noise?" Delphina asks worriedly. She remember all the time she was being loud.

"Yes." Anastacius looks at her. "But I like your voice. Loud or not." She blushes.

"No." Coventina answered.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!" But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from
the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov -The Irish Beater Quigley 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. He had become distracted, and Anastacius couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight. Coventina wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though he was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ronald Weasley obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -" "Look at Lynch!" Granger yelled. For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Coventina was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing. ... "He's seen the Snitch!" Aelora shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on ... but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, they had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again - "They're going to crash!" shrieked Granger . "They're not!" roared Ron.

"DON'T CRASH!!"

"Lynch is. Coventina mumbled.

"Is he seriously going to-?"

And he was right - for the second time, Lynch 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 - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Aelora happily.

She can finally sleep.

"I am never taking you there ever again." Coventina tells her elder siblings firmly.

"Thank Merlin." Anastacius mumbles.

"Are we sure, Tina is the youngest?" Aurelius questions Emrys who chuckles.

"Yes, love. She is."

Krum, his red 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, IRELAND: 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.

"THEY WON!!"

"A bit plain." Sirius shrugs. It did not end as great as they thought it would end.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" "What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"The Irish 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 Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess. ..."

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

"He can speak english?" Evan asks.

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

Many erupt of laugher, everybody loving the little suffering of Fudge.

"Vell, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging. "And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman. Coventina'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; she 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. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face.

He was still holding the Snitch. Aelora 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.

Aelora let out a yawn. Can't they switch to something more entertaining?

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. At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor 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?" 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.

"I love the twins." Blaise smirks.

"Who doesn't?"

"Our very own clones " Fabian and Hideon says dramaticaly.

The scene soon change to a garden, where Antares Black was sitting against, the shadow covering him from the sun, a book in his hands. He let out a sigh after turning his head to the sun.

"Someone look peaceful." Reminw says softly. She likes seeing her son happy.

He had a love and hate relationship with mostly everything that alive.

"I can comfirm." Draco snorts.

"I hate when people stalk me, Aamon." Antares hissed in parseltongue.

"Yet you love stalking people."

"Touche."

"ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ sᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴍɪsᴛʀᴇss ᴛᴏᴏ." The cobra hissed back.

"Payback, bitch." Aelora smirks.

"I love that cobra." Dorca laughs.

"Tsk, ungrateful brat." Antares mumbled, he placed his palm over the grass for the cobra to slither on his arms. "How is it going?" He hissed.

"ᴍɪsᴛʀᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ sɪʙʟɪɴɢs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀғʏ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴜɢʟʏ ᴍᴀsᴋ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ, ᴄᴀᴜsɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀᴏs." Aamon hissed while watching Antares eating some strawberries.

"Attack?!" James looks at the next generation.

"Death Eaters, 'Mad Eye Moddy' took 'care' of it." Daco explaines.

"You mean like him punishing his house elf for nothing?

"Lost my respect."

The grey-brown eyes boy hummed. "Go back to her before she notice your absence. I do not want her to worry." He hissed quietly and run his thumb over the cobra's head gently who hissed softly in answer before slithering down.

Coventina smiles softly. She loves her sweet Aamon. Her animals were precious to her.

"ɪ ᴍɪss ʏᴏᴜ, ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ."

"Aww!"

Euphemia coes. "So cute."

"What was that?" Antares raised a brow at Aammon.

"ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ." The cobra slithered away, aware of the amuse smile on his master's lip while he went to his other mistress.

"Pftt!" Draco laughs.

Aurelius hides his smirks behind his knuckles and shook his head amuse.

Antares placed another strawberry in his mouth. "Now I have to take care of that blondie. Why am I always surrounded with blonde people?"

"Whats wrong with blonde?!" Delphina, Aurelius, Marlene, Draco and Aerys despite having silver hair glares at him.

"They are dumb." Antares shrugs.

He cursed himself before laying his body back down. "I have a soon to be betrothed to kill."

"Damn."

Coventina' eyes widen. 'Thats explain so much.'

"I did that too." Sirius points out.

"Wait what-?" Regulus looks at him.

"You did not expect me to let mother control your love life did you?" Sirius scoffs. "I get rid of the girl. She was so loud and also one of Dumbledore' follower." Sirius adds.

"I-..thank you." Regulus says softly. He was terrified at the idea of getting a betrothed. He was not that much interest in women. The idea that his brother would kill for him is comforting.