top box

August 25th, 1994

"I HAVE TO say, Daisy is so not herself today."

Charlie nodded, crossing his hands across his chest, "Remember Diagon Alley?"

"Of course," Bill said, nodding his head, "Back then we could still tame her."

"She used to be so... dignified," Percy added in, "So composed."

"Come on, Perce, that's just how she was brought up."

"She's just a girl. A little, fifteen-year old girl."

"Yeah," the tips of Percy's lips lifted up. He couldn't help it. "I know."

Bill slapped his shoulder lightly with a similar smile, "Come on. We should stop her now."

By dusk, the Ministry finally bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. Except one poor guy, who couldn't go anywhere because Daisy was hogging the entire cart to herself.

"Come on, George! Are you sure you don't want anything anymore? Just pick them out, will you? I will pay for everything— Fred, what about these? I'm sorry, kind sir, what can these do?"

"Oh, it's omnioculars!" the saleswizard said eagerly. "You can replay action, slow everything down... and they flash up play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Twelve Galleons each."

"O— okay, that is enough," Charlie slid between Daisy and the cart, holding a hand out as a fence, "You do not need that much merch, Dais. Put half of them down— nope, three-quarter of them down."

"But, Charlie—"

"No buts, young lady," Bill interfered, taking out a dancing miniature Quidditch player, "Here. Do you even know who this guy is?"

Daisy sighed, "No..."

"Exactly."

She stood on her tiptoes and whispered to his ears, "But I want to know how this toy works. Is it powered by battery?"

Bill chuckled, "You know the answer, sweetheart."

Daisy's lips formed a large O. She mouthed, "Magic."

"Bingo. Now pick three things. Five maximum."

"Six," Daisy negotiated, "For us three."

"Deal."

Clearly, the saleswizard wasn't happy with that.

Ginny bragged about her purchase to Daisy as they walked back to the tent. She placed green rosettes on her brothers' chests, then offered to paint green strokes on Daisy's cheeks, which she kindly refused.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were already waiting with their choice of merchandise in hands when they arrived. Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag himself.

"There you are! Where have you all been?" he said.

"We had to peel Daisy off a merch cart, Dad. She was absolutely out of control."

Daisy smiled sheepishly, "I apologize, Mr. Weasley."

"It's alright, dear. You're right on time. Here, wear this. It's got protective charms imbued into it," Mr. Weasley handed a scarf over to Daisy, which she gladly took and tied fashionably around her neck.

Suddenly, a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"Ooh... Come on, come on!" Surprisingly, that was not Ron. Not Ginny either. Not Harry, of course, and not the twins. It was Daisy. She ran behind Fred and pushed his back with both of her hands, "Let's go! Hurry, please!"

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August 25th, 1994

DAISY COULD HEAR the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious, and she could hardly suppress her own adrenaline rush.

"Daisy! Ginny! Stop running!"

"We thought you hate sports, Dee," Percy said jokingly.

"It's Ron," Ginny giggled, "Blame all the Quidditch books and lessons."

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves standing in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Daisy had to crane her neck to see the tip of it, and thought to herself, my entire neighborhood could fit into this!

"Seats a hundred thousand," Mr. Weasley explained. Daisy realized that Harry and Hermione also had awestruck looks on their faces. Even the magical kids were also wowed by the view. "Ministry task force of five hundreds have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again... bless them."

"I— I will be able to enter, right?" Daisy asked, wide-eyed.

Mr. Weasley smiled, "Of course. That scarf—"

"Ah..."

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets, "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

"Alright. Stay together, children! Daisy, Ginny—"

"We got them, Dad!" George exclaimed over the noise.

Daisy found herself behind squished between Fred and Percy as they clambered up the carpeted stairs with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered through doors into the stands to their left and right. She could feel her heart pounding, but her excitement obscured her breathlessness and tiredness. It only felt like two minutes —reaching the top of the staircase where a small box, situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts, with twenty or so seats was located.

Daisy went to lean against the railing, looking down upon a scene she could never even imagined.

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. At either end of the field stood three hoops, fifty feet high, which she recognized from Ron's book as the game's goal posts.

"Daze—"

Daisy pulled Fred into a hug, cutting him off. "This is amazing! Thank you."

"For this? You should really thank Dad—"

"For everything."

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August 25th, 1994

HARRY, ON THE other hand, began having a conversation with the seemingly only other creature in the Top Box. Winky, the house elf, told him that Dobby (the Malfoys' house elf Harry had freed a few years ago) was happy with defying his status quo.

She also told him that she was afraid of heights, but her Master —Percy's boss, Mr. Crouch— wanted her to save him a seat. How strange.

Gradually, the Top Box was filled with very important people. Percy and Mr. Weasley kept on greeting people, standing up then sitting down then standing up again. There was the British Minister of Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge. The Bulgarian Minister of Magic. And then the previous topic of the talk, the Malfoys, came.

"Don't look," Fred whispered, hiding Daisy with his taller stature while forcing her to look ahead. But she could still hear.

"Good lord, Arthur. What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How— How nice."

She suddenly remembered who they were: Mr. Weasley's wrestling opponent in Diagon Alley, back in 1992. Still as rude and unpleasant as ever, apparently.

"Slimy gits." It was definitely Ron's voice.

A series of footsteps was heard and Daisy looked up to see the guy in bee-like robe, grinning ear to ear. "Everyone ready? Minister— ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo!"

Mr. Bagman whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, said "Sonorus!" and spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium. His voice magically echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

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

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August 25th, 1994

THE GAME LASTED exactly four hours, fourteen minutes, and twenty-seven seconds with the miraculous outcome of Bulgaria - 160 vs. 170 - Ireland.

Ron was a bit disappointed that the match didn't last longer. He hoped he could stay up in the Top Box much longer, maybe even camp the night, but all he got were judgmental looks.

The twins cheered loudly when they realized that they had won the jackpot. They immediately scrambled over to stand in front of Mr. Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

Daisy's cheeks were tired of laughing, her throat was hoarse from squealing and her hands felt numb from clapping too much. Especially when all the players filed between the rows of seats in the Top Box at the end of the game, and an Ireland Chaser took his time to wink at the Weasley girls.

Too soon, they were caught up in the crowds flooding back to their campsites. Raucous singing filled the night air, leprechauns kept shooting over their heads with lanterns in hand, and nobody felt like sleeping at all. Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley warned the twins.

"Don't worry, Dad," Fred said gleefully, "We've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

The poor father looked as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but decided that he didn't want to know.

They spent the rest of the night arguing enjoyably about the match while Daisy, Hermione, and Harry exchanged omnioculars to watch each other's recorded footages.

Daisy laughed when she saw Hermione's recording of Bulgarian Veela screeching, morphing into cruel-beaked bird heads with wings bursting from their shoulders, followed by Mr. Weasley's solemn voice saying, "And that, boys, is why you should never go for looks alone."

"Is it possible to print these out in pictures?" she asked. She looked at Hermione, who merely blinked, then Harry, who of course didn't know anything, and the three simultaneously turned to look at Percy.

"Yes, I'll print them out for you. Hold onto it until we're home."

"Thank you, Perce!"

Finally, Ginny fell sleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor, and Mr. Weasley insisted that everyone go to bed. Daisy reminded Bill of his promise to take her around the campsite, but even she couldn't fight the cloud of fatigue and drowsiness in her mind, so she went to sleep. Only for a couple hours.

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August 26th, 1994

"GET UP! DAISY— Ginny— Hermione, girls, come on now! Hurry!"

Daisy, still half-asleep, felt someone strong pulling her arms until she was sitting up on her bed.

"Everyone, get your jacket now and get out!"

The droning in her ears popped and Daisy could hear... screams. Sound of people running.

Something was terribly wrong.

"What is it?" She heard Ginny yawned.

Daisy's eyes focused and she saw Bill, looking at the three girls with grim look on his face, his hair unkempt and his clothes messily tucked in. Sensing the dire situation, she immediately jumped down her bed, took the other two's jackets, and threw them over —her older sister instinct kicking in. "They'll explain in due time. Come, come."

Putting on the jacket she had yesterday, she hurried out of the tent behind Ginny and Hermione.

"Good Heavens..." she said as Ginny gasped audibly, covering her agape mouth with her hand.

There were odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire, followed by a burst of strong green glow. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were heard. People were running all over the place, fleeing a crowd of marching wizards that was moving across the field toward them. Their heads were hooded and their faces were masked.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes.

The girls hurried over to join the boys, who looked as horrified as them.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over the noise, rolling up his sleeves, "You lot—" he motioned to every kid still at school, "Get into the woods and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

They were about to run, but Charlie grabbed Fred's arm, halting them, and said, "They're targeting Muggles."

"Got it," Fred nodded, no hint of playfulness in his tone. And they ran.

More wizards were joining the marching group. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. There were one or two that caught on fire, blasted by spells.

Daisy looked over at the commotion once more and gasped, "Fred!"

"What? Why?" Fred bellowed, not slowing down.

"That's— That's Mr. Roberts! Up there! Are those... his wife and two children?!"

"Don't look!"

"What are they doing?!"

"I said, don't look!" He jerked her hand forward, straight into the hoard of trees. Dark figures were blundering through the trees, children were crying, anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold, night air.

Daisy wasn't scared. No, she was surprised. She couldn't bear seeing how those magical people played on Mr. Roberts' family like they were toys —she didn't know people were capable of something... something that despicable.

"Dee! Merlin's Beard, don't do that!"

She wasn't even aware that she had stopped in her track, losing Fred's grip for a few seconds.

"George!"

"Come on, we should go deeper in."

She held his hand, and casting one last look at the mayhem, they fled into the dark.