Wally's eyes met Oliver's and they stared at one another.

"Oh Ron, honestly, he's probably trying not to be noticed!" Hermione hissed, grabbing onto Ron's shirt sleeve and tugging him away. "Leave him be!"

"But when am I ever going to have a chance to meet the greatest bloody Seeker that ever lived again?" Ron demanded as she yanked him back toward the merchandise booth, where Harry was happily purchasing sets of omnioculars for the three of them.

Wally suddenly bent down and lifted his daughter up from the ground, shaking his head as though to clear the thoughts in it. "It's alright, darling, Dada's here," he said comfortingly, lifting her up from the ground and hugging her to his chest. She wrapped her legs around his torso and her face pressed into his collarbone as his eyes reconnected with Oliver's over her head. "You're alright, Olivia, it was only a little spill, really." He kissed her forehead as he spoke, smoothing her hair with one palm and supporting her with the other.

Oliver's voice trembled. "I didn't mean to cause a fall."

Wally murmured, "Oh you mean to say that you've finally learned how to tell what an accident is, have you?"

Oliver said, "I'm sorry."

"WHOA! No way!"

Oliver closed his eyes. Oh no.

"Are my eyes taking the mickey on me? Not you two actually within an arm's breadth of each other!" Dexter walked up, a wide grin on his face. "Get out! I knew you'd both be here, but I never dreamed ---" he paused, then gasped, "You're not here together are you?"

"No," Wally interjected quickly and firmly.

"You lot - you lot - Macy is going to lose her mind when she finds out you're talking again!" Dexter said, "Like, whoa, I never thought it would happen."

"It's not," Wally replied. "We're not." He hugged Olivia closer. "Dex, I'll see you later, alright, I've got to get Livvy here back to the tent, I'm sure Geri's going to be looking for me, I told her we were only going for a quick pop out of the tent." The shamrocks on Olivia's head bounced as she turned her face 'round to look at Dexter.

"Hi Uncle Dex'er," she said.

"Hullo Livvy," Dexter smiled. "I like your shamrocks."

She giggled, the sound a juxtaposition against the tear stains that had tracked across her cheeks. "Thanks Uncle Dex'er," she answered.

Wally glanced at Oliver one last time, then bolted back up the path the way he'd come.

Oliver looked down at his trainers.

Dexter grinned at him, "I can't believe my eyes. What brings you down here to mingle with us common folk?" he chuckled. "I feel like I should be asking for your picture or autograph or something like that. I reckon you probably charge for it by now, though, huh?" He's eyes twinkled with mischief, "And to think - if I'd just had better scores in divination, I might've known to save some of the scrap papers and dirty socks from our old dormitory I could've sold it all on the black market and fetched a fair price by now. Millionaire, that's what I could be about now."

Oliver frowned.

"You've just got to come back to the tent with me and say hi - First off Macy would positively hate me if I didn't get you to come 'round... and secondly, I need you to tell my bloody kids I know you. They don't believe me! They don't believe me we were close in school, can you stand them?" Dexter shook his head, "I showed'em the photos - the old ones from when we were the D.W.O. and they think I'm mental. Sure, they say, Uncle Wally we believe knew him, but not you Dad." Dexter shook his head, "Little buggers --"

Oliver looked at Dexter, who looked impossibly grown up despite how Oliver had been picturing him for the past decade, and he felt sick to his stomach and his head ached and he didn't think he could bear any more of it.

"I have to take a rain check, Dex, I'm really sorry," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I swear I'll owl your kids though so they'll let up on you, alright? I have to go... I --" and he spotted somebody walking past in a Bulgaria replica jersey, Krum's name plastered across their back. "I have to go to the warm-ups... I train Krum, you know, he'll be looking for me."

Dexter looked sincerely disappointed, but when Oliver said that last bit, he said, "Whoa, you do? That's brilliant. I mean, I'm rooting Irish, of course, but that's brilliant you train Krum, I've heard he's really, really good!" He paused, "Are you still mates with Aiden Lynch? I've heard you were good mates with him, yeah?"

Oliver shook his head, "I mean, I know the bloke, of course, and he's alright, but --"

"That must be so cool, huh? Knowing everyone in Quidditch? You must be so happy. It's everything you ever wanted, isn't it? You're so lucky!"

Oliver felt even sicker and he had to will himself from looking in the direction that Wally had gone off in. He paused, then, "You - um - you sound like you keep in touch with Wally, yeah?"

Dexter said, "Oh yeah. Me and Wally reconnected about maybe five, six years ago now? Just after you lot broke it off, I guess." He paused, then his face sort of lit with realization and he murmured, "Oh. I - I'm sorry about -  about that, by the way. I remember reading what happened and -" he paused. "Anyway. I'm really sorry." He paused again, "I was really glad at seeing you both though, today."

Oliver wished he could say the same thing.

"Is today the first time you've talked to him since --?"

"Yeah."

Dexter said, "Well. I --" he clearly didn't know what to say.

"Dex?"

"Yeah?"

"What're your kids names?"

"I didn't name my kids after you like he did if that's what you're on about."

"No but what are they called?"

"Paul and Will," Dexter replied.

"I'll write them, tonight, after the match. I promise." Oliver hurried away, then, because he couldn't stay another moment with the way Dexter was looking at him, with something like disappointment in his eyes.

The only thing that could have made it worse for Oliver was if all this had taken place in front of the Fortescue's booth he knew already was on the far side of the field.

He bolted for his tent and raced inside, breathless, and sat himself down in one of the very nice couches. He looked around at all the photos and posters on the walls - memorabilia from years of quidditch matches and acquaintances with incredible players and getting to visit historic games and events all over the world. More than one game winning quaffle was boxed in display cases, a game-used firebolt from the 1986 World Cup hung on pegs. A game jersey signed by every player on the Australian team. Programs, lithographs, newspaper clippings...

But no family photos.

No pictures of children, no husbands, no wives, no brothers, sisters, cousins, parents...

He'd set himself into a sort of exile, hadn't he?

But hadn't he deserved it, too?

Oliver curled up and hugged his knees. Wally's voice echoed in his mind: "Oh you mean to say that you've finally learned how to tell what an accident is, have you?"

Ron was nutters. He couldn't stop going on about how great Oliver Kent was and, by extension, Viktor Krum. The twins didn't believe that Ron had been run into by Oliver Kent, even after Hermione confirmed that the man who had knocked Ron over did look suspiciously like the pictures in the Quaffle Talk magazine that Ron persistently flapped about the Weasley's firepit, where they'd all gathered to watch Arthur attempt at lighting a fire the muggle way.

Nobody had believed Ron in fact, not even Oliver Wood or Cho Change or Ernie Macmillian, all of whom they'd seen on their way back with the water and their souvenirs from the booth they'd been visiting when the run-in with Kent happened.

"Next he'll be saying he talked with Krum because his little action figure there waved at him!" guffawed Fred.

"Yeah, the voices in his head have Bulgarian accents now," teased George.

"Shut up, I bloody saw him!" Ron said, aggravated. "I did, he nearly knocked me on my arse!"

"It's alright, Ronnie-kins," Bill said, grinning as he put his feet up on Charlie's lap, "We believe you. Don't we Cha-Cha?"

Charlie looked up from a magazine he was reading about dragons. "What?" he asked, confusion on his face.

"I said we believe Ron that he's seen Oliver Kent?" Bill's tone was teasing.

"Sure," Charlie said, "Tonks said he's in the tent just next door." He shrugged and looked back down at the magazine.

Ron looked deeply offended - Charlie didn't usually join in with the teasing, so the fact that he was going along with the twins and Bill was a right offense and Ron scowled. "You lot are rotters."

"I believe you, Ron," said Harry sincerely.

"I do, too," Hermione said, then she got up and went over to Mr. Weasley, "Here, let me help you with those matches, Mr. Weasley," she said patiently, tired of watching him struggle with the matchbox. He'd burnt his fingers at least twice by now and was getting frustrated, despite his persistence that he was having fun playing at being a muggle.

"Really a quick incendio and it'll be done with," Bill muttered.

They cooked eggs and sausages for a late breakfast, and sat about discussing odds and statistics for the game, something that Bill and Ron seemed the most passionate about, while Charlie would interject now and again with some statistic that they were arguing about that would usually settle the argument fairly quickly. Twice, he added in some fact about dragons, including comparing the speed of which the fastest broomstick in the industry to the speed of a Horned Norwegian Ridgerider - the fastest dragon in the Northern Hemisphere.

They were midway through breakfast when Mr. Weasley leaped to his feet as a man came striding toward them. "Aha! The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was wearing Quidditch robes that made him look like an enormous walking wasp - which was apparently precisely what he was going for, since the number jumper had a big wasp embroidered across his chest. He looked all the part of a retired sports player, a build that had begun to waste off with age, belly stretched by a few good years of alcohol consumption. He looked like an overgrown child with a badly smashed up nose.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily, wildly excited, and bouncing his way over to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur, old man! What day, ey? Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming... hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... Not much for me to do!"

Ron stared on, apparently unable to decide if he was impressed by Bagman or not - he was after all a former player, though not quite as famous as Oliver Kent or Viktor Krum, and he simply didn't appear as impressive as he might've done back in his days on the pitch.

Percy was clearly impressed, though, and pitched himself across the firepit to where Ludo stood next to his father, hand outstretched, nearly tripping himself.

"This is my son, Percy," Mr. Weasley said, just catching Percy before he went face-first into the dust. "He's just started at the Ministry under Barty Crouch." Mr. Weasley looked proud, then pointed in turn, "And this is Fred - no, George, sorry. THAT'S Fred over there - and Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman did a double take at Harry, his eyes widening at the sight of the scar on his forehead. He grinned. "Ah, yes, would recognize you anywhere. Look just like --"

"My father," Harry finished. "Yeah."

Ludo Bagman grinned all the harder. "I imagine you do hear it a good deal." He paused, then turned to Mr. Weasley, eyes glowing, "Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? I've already got Roddy Ponter betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match!"

Mr. Weasley put a galleon on Ireland to win and, much to his and Percy's disapproval, the twins had leaped up to bet using some joke items they'd been working on (poor Percy looked like he was going to be sick when Ludo was amused by a wand that turned into a rubber chicken, for which they managed to fetch a fair five galleons to use toward their bet).

Ludo Bagman, Mr. Weasley, and Percy started talking about Percy's boss, Mr. Crouch, who Percy admired a fair deal, and who would not, apparently, approve of the gambling going on around the Match. "All in good fun, all in good fun," said Ludo, grinning, as he brushed off the idea of the betting being inappropriate as he settled in for tea.

They went on talking about various things at the Ministry and the match and Harry tuned it out mostly, but something caught his attention when they started speaking of a woman who had gone missing in Ludo's department.

"Bertha Jorkins!" Ludo chuckled, "Haven't heard a dicky bird about her, but she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha... memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October still thinking it's July!" he laughed.

Harry felt like he'd heard the name Bertha Jorkins before and he couldn't place where. For some reason, he thought of the night in the Shrieking Shack with Sirius, Professor Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Had one of them mentioned a Bertha Jorkins? It seemed like maybe perhaps they had. He didn't know why else he would know the name. But something about it made his skin feel cold and he reached up and rubbed his forehead absently as he finished up his breakfast and handed Charlie his empty plate for washing.

Suddenly they were joined at the campsite by none other than Mr. Crouch and Percy went into a near meltdown. Harry thought Mr. Crouch looked rather snobbish and strict, not the sort of person that he would personally look up to. He has an impeccable suit and tie on, crisp and upright, with a bristling blast moustache perfectly manicured and dark eyebrows that made him look stern and severe.

"Ludo, there you are. I've been looking for you everywhere," Mr. Crouch said grumpily, "The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box. We've already extended it twice and I need to find what the rules are for --"

"Oh is THAT what they're after?" said Bagman, laughing, "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers! Bit of a strong accent!"

"Mr. Crouch!" Percy Weasley leaped up and bowed rather awkwardly. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Percy simpered, and Harry was reminded of Aunt Petunia the night that Uncle Vernon's boss had come to the house on Privet Drive and Dobby the House Elf had ruined her pudding.

"Oh - yes, thank you Weatherby," Mr. Crouch said, which prompted a great deal of choking from Fred and George, who thumped each other on the backs heartily as Percy went very pink about his ears.

Harry tuned back out of the conversation, his forehead still smarting.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, leaning over. Hearing this, Ron looked over in concern. He was eating his second helping of sausages and was chewing as he started at Harry with worry.

Harry nodded and dropped his hand from his head. He'd just write Sirius another letter later, after the match, when there wasn't much else going on.

Suddenly the tent next to theirs opened up and Ron dropped his plate - sausages and all - in surprise, sitting upright in his chair like a cat at attention. Harry followed his gaze and saw Oliver Kent emerging from the small tent pitched just by theirs and heading toward them, smiling.

"Ah, I thought I heard you Ludo - how are you? Blimey those robes - Hornets really are a high, aren't they? Blind your competition into their losses, I'll reckon." He smirked and his blonde hair caught the sun to look near to golden as his eyes twinkled, just like they did in the posters on Ron's wall. He glanced over, spotted Ron, and said, "Oh you - I am sorry for having knocked you down earlier, I was in rather a rush and didn't see you. Glad you're alright, then." He very specifically did not look at Harry.

Harry was alright with that, he was sick of being looked at, and he reached up absently and brushed his hair to cover over the scar on his forehead.

"Bloody hell, I told you, I told you he was here!" Ron snapped, looking to George and Fred.

"Actually, I told you he was in the tent next door," Charlie said, finally looking up from his magazine and rolling it up, staring at Oliver Kent with reverence.

Fred and George exchanged glances of upset - they didn't like being shown up, especially by Ron. Bill owned up, "Sorry for not believing you, Ron."

Percy offered Kent a cup of tea but Kent turned him down.

"I was just headed down to the pitch to talk to Viktor before the match," Kent said, "I thought you might like an introduction."

"Ah yes I certainly would!" Bagman said, "Oi, Kent, would you fancy a wager on the game? I'll overlook your in with Krum if you're willing, but you've got to make a good bet of it. Merlin knows you can afford a good wager!"

"Nah, not me," Oliver said, smirking. "I know too much of Krum's game." He shook his head, "Isn't fair to all the other folks you'd be betting following after me if I gave away anything of the plays we've been working on."

"Aha - been working on something unexpected, have you?" Ludo grinned.

Oliver Kent shook his head, "I'm not saying anything..."

"Ludo - we need to go and meet with the Bulgarians," Mr. Crouch said sharply.

"Oh and this will work out perfectly with going with Kent here to meet Krum, won't it, Kent? Come along, you can meet the Bulgarians as well!" Ludo swung his arms around Kent's shoulders as though they were long lost buddies. "Always busy, Crouch is, taking no time to enjoy the spoils of the work he's done!" Ludo smirked at Oliver Kent as though he were indulging him in a grand secret.

"Organizing portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo," said Mr. Crouch grumpily.

Ludo Bagman grinned, "I expect it's doubly annoying when you've got impish celebrities like Mr. Kent here turning up missing when their portkey arrives without them, 'ey, Barty?"

Oliver flushed. "Sorry about that. Something, er, came up."

Mr. Crouch nodded, though he didn't quite look Kent in the eye as he dusted off a bit of dust on his forearm.

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley to Crouch and Bagman.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun... Still, it's not as though we don't have more to look forward to, eh Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize!" Bagman's eyes sparkled as he spoke and he reached around Oliver Kent to nudge Barty Crouch in the side.

Mr. Crouch cleared his throat. "We agreed not to make the announcement until all of the details --"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving this off as though it were useless. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts --"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians," said Crouch sharply. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby," he handed Percy back the imperial looking tea cup he'd been given and Percy nodded eagerly, taking the china. Crouch turned and walked away hurriedly, "Come along Bagman."

Ludo chuckled and whistled, "Well see you all later! I expect you'll be needing to see Krum to practice soon anyway. Now tell me, Oliver, what's some of your favorite practicing tactics? Have you tried these new fangled practice goal posts that kick the quaffle like a true Keeper! Absolutely incredible what they come up with!"

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred asked the moment the three wizards had left.

"And why didn't you get Kent's autograph!?" Ron demanded.

"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley answered Fred, ignoring Ron's flushed face.

"It's classified information," Percy snapped.

"Oh shut up Weatherby," said Fred.

"But it's also pretty cool," spoke up Charlie, who flushed as all eyes went to him.

"YOU know?" Percy challenged.

Charlie smirked, "I expect I know more than you do at the moment, Perce," he answered. "But I'm as silent as a Mute Mongolian Murdersnout." And he drew his fingers across his lips like a zipper.