Questions and Answers

Ginny turned her head on the pillow and studied the bed's other occupant. Harry's different moods and how they shaped his body were ingrained in her brain. He was wide awake, despite his closed eyes and seeming repose. He was too stiff, too tense to be asleep. 'Did you sleep at all?' she asked, her voice husky from her own lack of slumber.

Harry's eyes fluttered open. 'Not really. You?'

'Here and there.'

Harry turned to his side to face his wife. 'What are we going to do?' he breathed softly.

Ginny copied his motions, and rested a hand on his chest over the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 'I wish I knew,' she admitted.

'You do know we have to go, don't you?'

Ginny nodded, throat tightening. 'Yeah.'

'Should we take James and Lily?' Harry asked, reaching for the end of Ginny's loose plait, toying restlessly with it.

'It would look odd if we didn't,' Ginny said pointedly.

'Maybe we ought to invite Scorpius to come with us, too,' Harry offered.

'I'll send an owl to Daphne today.'

'The rest of the family? Molly and Arthur? Your brothers? Their families?' A note of anxiety crept into Harry's voice.

Ginny sighed. 'I suppose we'll find out tomorrow. I'd rather they didn't go. It could generate more attention if they did.'

'I guess we'll just have to wait, then.' Harry glanced at the alarm clock. 'Do you think the paper's here yet?'

Ginny craned her head to look at the clock behind Harry. 'It ought to be.'

Harry nodded once and flung the bedding aside. He wearily sat up and slid his feet to the floor, then lurched off the bed. He shuffled out of the bedroom and downstairs into the kitchen. The owl waited as impatiently as always on the windowsill. Harry opened a drawer and removed a handful of Knuts. He pushed up the window, and the owl flew into the kitchen, landing on the table. Harry took the paper and shoved the Knuts into the owl's pouch. 'Thanks,' he told it, motioning toward the owl perch in the corner, but the owl merely ruffled its feathers and flew away. Harry left the window open to the summer morning, and tossed the paper to the table. He quietly assembled the tea things on a tray to take upstairs, deciding to let Lily and James sleep a little longer. It wouldn't do any good to rouse them. He set the kettle on the stove, choosing to boil the water without magic. It gave him something to fuss over, instead of looking at the newspaper, which he badly wanted to do. Instead, he swirled hot water in the old brown teapot, warming its rounded sides, feeling the warmth seep into his cold hands. The kettle whistled shrilly, and he emptied the teapot, then carefully measured Ginny's favorite blend of tea into it, pouring the freshly boiled water over the leaves. It was only then that he retrieved the paper from the table and laid it on the tray.

Harry carried the tray to the bedroom, and set it on the foot of the bed. He wordlessly held the paper out to Ginny. 'I can't look,' he confessed gruffly.

Ginny took it and inhaled deeply before she spread it open over her lap. 'He's on the front page. Above the fold...'

Harry passed a cup of tea to her and craned his neck to get a glimpse of the photograph featured prominently on the Prophet's front page. Al ran across the pitch, a Snitch clutched tightly in his fist, a light on his face that was unmistakable. How often had Harry seen it on Ginny's since that long ago day when he'd kissed her the first time? 'He looks so much like you,' he commented sadly.

'What?' A line appeared between Ginny's brows.

Harry gently traced the lines of Al's face in the photograph with a shaking finger. 'Every game you ever played where your team won, that is the exact expression that you had.'

Ginny looked up in surprise. 'Is it?'

'Yeah.'

'I hope I wasn't a smug git,' Ginny said with a faint grin.

'Only the first few games,' Harry retorted with strained levity. 'George kept your head from getting too big.'

'Dad?' Harry looked over his shoulder to the partially-open bedroom door. James filled the gap, Lily peering owlishly around his arm. 'Could we have a word?'

'Of course.'

James reached behind him and steered Lily into the bedroom, then herded her none-too-gently toward the bed. She perched uneasily on the corner, tracing over the line of stitching in the quilt. James clambered onto the foot next to her, folding his legs into a tailor style pose. He nudged Lily in the ribs and she shook her head. 'You say it,' she insisted.

'Fine.' James squared his shoulders and faced his parents. 'Lily and I have been talking,' he began with far more courage than he actually felt. 'And we were wondering if...' he trailed off uncertainly. 'Do we have to go to the Final?'

'I'm afraid so,' Ginny replied. 'It would send the wrong message if we weren't there.' She bit her lip. 'All of us,' she added pointedly. 'At the very least the four of us must be there. We can take Maya and Scorpius along, if you like. And we'll see about the rest of the family.'

'Maybe we won't have to go,' Lily piped up brightly. 'What if Melanie Styles is recovered by then?'

Ginny rested a gentle hand on Lily's knee. 'She won't be, darling,' she said sympathetically. 'Melanie was hit awfully hard. The Healers won't clear her to play in just two weeks.'

'Bollocks,' Lily muttered mutinously. Neither of her parents felt the need to correct her language.

'Do either of you feel like breakfast?' Harry asked tiredly.

'It's all right, Dad,' James said quickly. Harry liked to make breakfast on the weekends for the family. This morning Harry's face was unusually drawn. He could only recall seeing circles that dark under Harry's eyes a handful of times. 'We can get some cereal or something.'

'No. We'll do things like we usually do,' Harry stated. 'Keep it normal.' He gulped his tea, scalding his tongue. 'Nothing has changed,' he said resolutely. 'And nothing will.'

XxXxXxX

James swung drowsily in the hammock after a rather late breakfast. Lily went straight for the tool shed and dragged out a practice dummy, rather like the one Gareth used for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Harry had fashioned it for her to practice some Muggle self-defense technique she had been learning for the past year or so. Lily diligently practiced every day, even at school. 'Why do you do that?' he yawned.

Lily set the dummy up under the elm tree and irritably shoved a lock of hair from her eyes. 'What if I don't have my wand?' she huffed. 'We're so dependent on magic to the point of being helpless if we don't have a wand. Well, that won't be me,' she insisted.

'Right. Because kicking someone in the knee will help block a curse,' James drawled.

Lily hesitated, making an adjustment to the dummy. 'Of course it won't,' she allowed. 'But I'm not going to go down without a fight.'

'If you say so,' James murmured sleepily. He watched as Lily aimed a series of jabs at the dummy, striking it in the throat and eyes with the heel of her hand, aiming open-palmed slaps at its "ears". She kicked its knees and groin, and stomped viciously on the arches of its feet. 'So what happens if you've been knocked down?' he asked curiously. Without missing a beat, Lily dropped to the ground and swept the dummy's feet from under it. The dummy fell to the side, then bounced back up. It had been charmed to mimic some of the more common aggressive moves Lily might encounter, and it lunged toward her. She planted a foot on its chest and flipped it over her head, then sprang to her feet, ready to continue.

Blowing a strand of hair from her face, Lily grinned at her skeptical older brother. 'How's that?'

'Nice,' drawled Al from behind them. He sauntered through the gate, his broom propped on one shoulder. 'That'll put the fear of God into a Dark wizard, that will.'

James sat up, body stiff, ready to defend Lily. 'Why do you have to be such a bloody wanker?' he hissed.

'Do you know how ridiculous you look?' Al continued, ignoring James.

Lily shrugged nonchalantly. 'I don't care.'

'You should when you're learning Muggle tricks to make up for your lack of skills in Defense or Charms,' Al taunted. Lily flushed a bright red, but plopped on the ground and began to tie the lace of a trainer that had come undone. She was, in fact, one of the best in her year. But Al's cutting remark stung more than she wanted to admit. She was only compared to the other students in her year, not anyone else. She very well could be at the top of her class, but have lesser skills than a student at the same place in another year. Besides, engaging Al wasn't going to help. Al strolled past her, unable to resist a parting shot. 'Better start learning how to work in the shop like James.'

Lily's lips thinned, and before she could form a coherent thought, her foot connected with Al's ankle, sweeping his feet out to the side. He landed on the ground with a thud. Lily's hand hit him in the solar plexus, and Al gasped at the sharp pain. One of Lily's knees landed on his chest and her hand darted toward his throat, stopping just short of his larynx. Al choked and gasped like a landed fish, and his eyes traveled down to Lily's hand. She grunted with something like satisfaction and got to her feet. Still saying nothing, she collected the dummy and returned it to the tool shed, then flounced into the house, her plait swaying with her gait.

James' snicker reached Al through the roaring in his ears. 'You just got your arse handed to you by a fourteen year-old girl. I wonder what people might say if they heard.'

'You wouldn't!' Al wheezed.

'I might...' James slid from the hammock. He thought he'd have a kip before lunch and it would be far more appealing in his bed. 'And I might not. You'll never know, won't you?' With that last salvo, he followed Lily into the house.

XxXxXxX

Ron picked up one of Arthur's odds and ends scattered around the tool shed, turning it over in his large hands, not really paying attention to the conversation that swirled around his head. Oddly enough, it didn't pain him to contemplate what he was about to say. He'd waited years for this moment, and now that it was approaching, he didn't want it. It was Harry's strained, yet polite, invitation to attend the World Cup finals that broke through his reverie. 'Listen, mate,' Ron blurted, interrupting Percy's long-winded explanation of why his family would be unable to attend. 'You're going because you have to go. I've wanted England to play in a Cup final since I was ten years old, and under any other situation, I'd be gagging for tickets to the game, but the way Albus went about getting on the team was something I'd expect from the kind of bloke that went into Slytherin when we were kids. I can't do it, as much as I want to.' He glanced around the tool shed. 'I think we all feel the same.'

'We'll go if you want us there,' Hermione said quickly, digging a discreet elbow into Ron's ribs.

'Funny,' Charlie murmured. 'All of England thinks he's a hero, but to his family he's a git.' He glanced sidelong at Harry. 'Sorry. No offense meant.'

Ginny nudged Charlie lightly. 'Absolutely none taken. He is being a git.'

'We just don't want to make more of a fuss over him than already is being done,' Harry explained. 'He's impossible to live with.' His face grew mournful. 'I've never wanted England to lose so badly before.'

George rubbed his head over his missing ear thoughtfully. 'Well, James and Lily seem all right. Two out of three isn't bad, hm?' He clapped Harry on the back forcefully. 'All about perspective, innit?'

The door creaked open, admitting Arthur, a puzzled look on his face. 'What's going on here?' he asked in that mild tone they knew all to well.

'Nothing, Dad,' Bill replied, forced innocence on his face. 'Just having a bit of a chat.'

'Wouldn't be a chat about a certain event that shall remain nameless that's going to occur in two weeks, would it?' Arthur guessed shrewdly. He consulted a page of parchment in his hand, perusing it lightly while they variously scuffed the ground with their shoes with copious throat-clearing, while they searched for an answer that wouldn't bring down Arthur's ire on their heads. Arthur was a great one for familial support. He would have fully expected them to be in the process of organizing a trip to the Final. 'Benjamin's coming for a visit,' he informed them, waving the parchment in their direction. 'He's bringing his wife and their children this time.'

'That's great, Dad,' Ron said a little too heartily.

'I thought we could take Benjamin and his family to the World Cup Final,' Arthur said genially.

'Oh...' George tugged at his ear, cheeks darkening with a rosy flush. 'Well, you see Dad... Erm... We were thinking that it would be best to stay home. Avoid the fuss, you know.'

Arthur carefully folded the letter and stowed it in a pocket. 'No, I don't see. Please explain.' He crossed his arms over his chest and waited with an air of exaggerated patience. Everybody glanced surreptitiously at Harry, who stepped forward, feeling like he'd been caught out of bounds at school and was attempting to explain himself to Minerva McGonagall.

'It's just that Ginny and I felt that if fewer of us are there, we could avoid the media circus around Albus...' His voice died under Arthur's withering stare.

'We're all going. Every last one of you lot will be there,' Arthur stated firmly. 'What's done is done,' he added sternly. 'And in this family, we don't turn our backs on each other. As I understand it, each player's family has access to a private box, do they not?' This he directed toward Ginny. She nodded in affirmation. 'Good. I'll reserve a few campsites and take care of the Portkeys tomorrow. George, Ron, we'll need a few tents, if you can whip something up.'

'Sure thing, Dad,' Ron mumbled.

'We'll even make sure they don't smell of cats,' George added with a shudder, vividly recalling the stench that permeated the tent he'd had to use at that long-ago World Cup before his sixth year. Arthur gazed at them each in turn before he left the tool shed.

'Well, that'll be one bright spot, at least,' Charlie mused to George. 'I don't fancy sleeping in a tent that reeks of cat piss again.'

XxXxXxX

Daphne gazed at the letter in her hand with a great deal of trepidation. Mealtimes when Scorpius and Draco were both in residence at the Manor were edgy, largely silent affairs. The both intently scrutinized their plates, making a series of peaks and valleys in their mashed potatoes. She worried her lower lip for a moment before inhaling deeply and diving into turbulent waters. 'Scorpius,' she began, clearing her throat. 'It seems that Mrs. Potter has invited you to attend the World Cup with them.'

Draco's head reared back in alarm. 'No,' he blurted.

Scorpius turned to Daphne, fury etched on his face. 'Why not?'

'Calm down,' Daphne said sternly, unsure if she addressed father or son. She pinned Scorpius with a glance. 'Your father and I will discuss this later.'

Scorpius opened his mouth to protest, but a steely gaze from his mother stemmed the rising tide of words that rose to the surface. 'Yes, Mother,' he murmured sullenly. He carefully set his knife and fork precisely on the edge of his plate and rested his hands on his knees. He let Daphne resume her meal before asking icily, 'May I be excused?'

Daphne sighed gustily and rubbed a spot between her eyebrows. 'Yes, of course.' She waited until the echoes of his footsteps pounding on the stairs faded. 'Would you mind sharing why you behaved in such a tyrannical manner?' she asked Draco mildly.

'Don't you recall what happened the last time I, or any of my family members for that matter, attended a World Cup?' Draco hissed.

Daphne sagged back in her chair. 'I do.'

'What if someone gets it in their head to retaliate using Scorpius?'

Daphne folded her serviette neatly and laid it on the table next to her plate. 'You're being paranoid,' she commented.

The corners of Draco's mouth folded inward. 'I've had lots of practice.'

Daphne tapped her index finger on the parchment, making a crackling sound in the quiet dining room. 'What would be the harm, truly? He'll be surrounded by members of Al's family, and they won't let Scorpius go haring off on his own.' Draco looked unconvinced. 'It will be fine,' Daphne murmured soothingly. 'There's no harm in letting him live his own life. He needn't pay for your sins, real or imaginary, for the rest of his life as well. He's been punished enough, wouldn't you say?'

'I hate it when you do that,' Draco muttered, looking remarkably like his son, arms crossed mulishly over his chest.

'Do what?' Daphne asked innocently.

'Force me to see reason.' Draco twisted his serviette nervously in his hands, then dropped it fretfully on the table, then rubbed his hands over his face. 'Very well. He can go.'

Daphne stopped tapping the parchment. 'I'll write to Ginny tonight, then.'

XxXxXxX

'Wakey, wakey!' Ginny sang with false gaiety. She knocked briefly on James' bedroom door, and opened it, crossing into the room to shake James' shoulder. 'Come on, Jemmy. It's time to wake up.'

James groaned theatrically and shoved his head under his pillow. 'Do I haff to?' he yawned.

Ginny winced, but forced a smile anyway. 'Hurry and wash,' she told him. 'We have to meet your grandfather in an hour.'

'Whaa time is it?'

'A quarter after four,' Ginny said sympathetically.

'When are we meeting Granddad?'

'Five-thirty.'

'Why so early?' James hauled the pillow off his head, grimacing at the audible whine in his voice. 'The game doesn't start until eight tonight...'

Ginny forced another smile. 'It's all part of the experience,' she said tightly.

James stretched, arching his back, then reluctantly sat up. 'All right. I'm up...'

Meanwhile, Harry knocked firmly on Al's bedroom door. He was almost relieved Al had left for Belgium with the English team two days earlier. He was tasked with waking Scorpius, who had arrived last night after dinner. 'Scorpius?' he called softly.

'Yes?' Scorpius sounded remarkably alert for such an early hour.

'It's time...'

The door opened, revealing Scorpius, fully dressed, a painstakingly arranged knapsack slung over one shoulder. His pale blonde hair was wet and combed away from his face. 'Do you mind if I have a bit of breakfast before we leave?' he asked politely.

'You know you don't have to ask,' Harry replied gently. 'Listen, Ginny and I don't hold you responsible for any of this. You don't have to walk on eggshells here. You're always welcome in our home.' Scorpius nodded mutely, eyes downcast. Harry sighed and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. 'Go on, then. We're going to leave in an hour.'

Scorpius hitched the knapsack higher on his shoulder and edged carefully around Harry. He was halfway down the stairs before he stopped and twisted, peering around the edge of his knapsack. 'I'd have said something to you,' he began haltingly. 'If I had known what he was about. Professor Longbottom always tells us real courage is knowing when to take a stand. Even if you must take it against a friend who's knowingly and willingly doing something they ought not to do.' He exhaled slowly, seeming to collapse in on himself a little. 'Whoever that is,' he began with a gesture toward Al's bedroom door, 'I wish he'd send the Al I know back.' He allowed a wistful note to creep into his voice. 'The lying and deception... Even I wasn't brought up that way, what with my family history.' His chin rose slightly and for the first time since he arrived the night before, he squarely met Harry's eyes. 'It's not your fault, either,' he said quietly, before slipping down the rest of the stairs.

Harry ran a trembling hand through his hair. 'Out of the mouths of babes,' he mouthed, shaking his head. He turned to wake Lily, nearly running headlong over Ginny, who was just leaving James' bedroom. He bared his teeth in a ghoulish imitation of a smile, making her eyes widen in question. 'Just practicing my game face,' he murmured with false hilarity. 'Is it working?'

'Only if you want to frighten someone,' Ginny whispered.

'Excellent. I'll use it the first time a photographer attempts to take a photo of the proud family,' Harry demurred, allowing sarcasm to drip from the end of his sentence.

'You do that,' Ginny yawned.

Harry tapped lightly on Lily's bedroom door and pushed it open. He tapped the lamp near her bed and allowed a genuine smile to tip up the corners of his mouth when the steady flame threw its light over her sleeping form. Hairpins lay scattered over the quilt and she clutched a chunky padlock in one hand, glasses askew over her nose. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she had developed an interest in Muggle magic tricks, but Fred and George had shown him how useful they could be, so Harry was more than happy to indulge his youngest in her hobbies. He pried the padlock from her lax fingers and gently shook her shoulder. 'Lils?' called softly. 'Wake up.'

Lily's nose scrunched, followed in short order by her eyes and the rest of her face. 'Why?'

'We're meeting Granddad soon,' Harry said in a coaxing tone.

'I don' wanna,' Lily protested, blindly patting her face, eyes popping open in confusion as she felt the frames of her glasses.

Harry's arms folded over his chest. 'Yes, I'm aware. You and James have made your feelings on the matter abundantly clear. And so has your grandfather. You've got a bit under an hour to wash and dress,' he informed her. 'And if you're quick about it, I'll have some toast and hot chocolate waiting for you.'

'Marmalade?' Lily asked hopefully.

'If you're in the kitchen in half an hour,' Harry countered. 'We're going to Belgium via Portkeys, and you know how you are with Portkeys.' Disgust momentarily crossed Lily's face. Portkeys made her nauseated enough to be sick when she landed. If she ate with enough of a time cushion, she merely turned green. Their Portkey to Ramsgate didn't leave until nearly seven, but like the World Cup his fourth year of school, they would have a bit of hike to find it. With a huff, Lily flung the quilt back and shuffled to the bathroom, muttering under her breath, displeasure evident in every line of her body when she realized it was already occupied. James' off-key humming could be heard over the sound of running water.

'James! Hurry up!' she called, pounding on the door. 'Who are you trying to impress at this hour?'

The door opened and James appeared wreathed in a cloud of steam. 'All right, all right. Keep your hair on.'

'You just look absolutely grand,' Lily said snidely.

James looked over her head at Harry in wide-eyed innocence. 'A ray of sunshine, she is, when she's sleep-deprived. Quit tinkering with Muggle tricks before midnight next time, yeah?' He aimed a none-too-gentle cuff at Lily's head before ducking out of the way. 'Let's get going. Get this circus over with...'

'You can say that again,' Harry sighed, as he retreated to his own bedroom to dress himself.

XxXxXxX

The Burrow's back garden filled with milling Weasleys, the varied shades of red hair glinting in the dull early morning light. Ron and George stood next to a pile of knapsacks, labeled with each family's names. Benjamin and his family stood in a tight, confused knot close to the house. Marissa and Leo's eyes were round with wonder at the amount of humanity their father called family, clutching their mother's hands. They had only arrived a few days earlier, and couldn't quite remember everyone's faces, much less their names. Marissa spied Parker, as he arrived with Penelope and his younger brothers. 'Parker!' she shouted, relief filtering through her voice. 'You're here!'

'Of course I am,' Parker chuckled.

'Will you sit with us?' Marissa asked anxiously.

Patrick craned his head around Parker. 'He's sitting with us,' he announced disdainfully.

Parker wrapped a hand around Patrick's upper arms and squeezed lightly, just above his elbow. 'I can sit in the middle,' he said evenly.

'Why do you have to sit with them?' Patrick whined. 'You're our brother!'

'Marissa and Leo don't follow Quidditch like you lot,' Parker replied patiently, applying a bit more pressure to Patrick's arm, making him flinch.

'Who doesn't follow Quidditch?' Peyton sniffed scornfully.

'Salem Institute in San Francisco doesn't have a team,' Parker reminded Peyton. 'They don't quite have the space for a pitch. We've been through this.' Parker glanced at Marissa and Leo. 'Why don't you two go find Teddy? He's the one with the really bright turquoise blue hair,' he prompted. 'He's a great fan of footie - erm, soccer... I'll bet you'll have loads to talk about.'

Marissa and Leo looked up at April for permission. 'Go on,' she allowed, nudging them a little. They scampered off, and Parker turned his attention to his brothers.

'That was absolutely unacceptable,' he said in a low voice. 'You know better. I live with Benjamin, April, Marissa, and Leo when I'm in school. They help me out in California, and I expect you to do the same for them here. Do I make myself clear?' He released Patrick, who rubbed his arm resentfully. Patrick and Peyton stared at the ground between the toes of their shoes. 'Well, in that case, perhaps neither of you is feeling well enough to go to the match today.'

Two faces recoiled in identical expressions of horror. Peyton elbowed Patrick and glanced at Parker. 'Yeah, all right. We're both feeling fine.'

Parker studied them for a long moment before nodding. 'Go find, Mum.'

George pulled a scroll of parchment from his pocket and aimed his wand at it. 'Lumos,' he muttered, and light blossomed over the surface. 'Right. We made tents for the size of each family. There are at least two bedrooms, a kitchen and sitting room, and a bath. When I call your name, come get your knapsack. And make sure you take the one that's been assigned to you. I don't fancy sharing a room with my offspring,' he added, eyeing Fred and Jacob. 'Merlin knows what I'd find in my bed...' He stepped away from the knapsacks. 'Bill...' As Bill hefted the pack on his shoulder, George peered into the crowd. 'Where's Vic?'

'She's got a shift at St. Mungo's tonight,' Bill replied, carefully avoiding Arthur's laser-like gaze. In truth, she did have a shift at the hospital, but it was a recent addition to her schedule. She'd taken on the shift of a fellow trainee who had received a set of tickets to the Finals just a couple of days before.

'I see...' George licked the tip of the pencil and checked off Bill's name. 'Charlie?'

Charlie grabbed his pack. 'Bronwyn's on at the infirmary this week,' he offered before George could question him about his wife's whereabouts. 'And you know perfectly well where Izzy is...'

George merely nodded. 'Percy.'

'Got it,' Parker murmured. He shouldered the knapsack. 'Dad's meeting us in Belgium later. He's helping coordinate transportation across the North Sea.'

'Doing what?' George blurted.

'No idea,' Parker shrugged. 'He kept saying we'd see when we got to Ramsgate.'

'Git,' George mouthed. 'Always has to make things dramatic...' he added aloud. 'Got mine... Ron?'

'Considering I put mine together,' Ron replied loftily, dragging the blue-and-maroon knapsack a few feet away from George. He'd added some modifications the other tents didn't have, like Silencing charms around the bedrooms. Hermione wasn't overly fond of tents to begin with, and neither was he. They brought back too many unpleasant memories they would each rather forget. Nor did she sleep well in a noisy environment. Regardless if England won or lost tonight, all sorts of raucous and unpredictable behavior would be unleashed by the fans. His nose twitched at the Fireproofing he'd added at the last minute recalling the destruction he'd witnessed at that long-ago match. Granted, the circumstances were quite different, but things could get out of hand rather quickly in a mob setting.

'Harry?' Harry said nothing, but held out a hand for the knapsack, securing it on his shoulders. It rested lightly against his spine. 'Yours has two baths,' George commented. 'Given the size of your group.'

'Thanks,' Harry said shortly.

It was telling that there was little to no banter between the families. The older cousins had pieced together that their parents were attending out of obligation, and the younger children were aware that something was amiss this particular morning. The only person who actually seemed cheerful was Arthur. George carried the last knapsack toward Arthur. Benjamin reached for it. 'I'll take it,' he said.

'I can carry my own tent,' Arthur said, somewhat peevishly, wrapping a hand around one of the straps. It wasn't that heavy, after all.

'Arthur, please...' begged Benjamin. 'Let me do something,' he whispered. He knew Arthur had taken care of everything related to the Quidditch match, strictly because it was far easier to do it from England, and it would make the weekend go much more smoothly, but it rankled his pride to allow someone else to do all the work. Benjamin had been raised by his mother to do as much for himself as possible. He tugged a little at the strap, fully expecting Arthur to let it go.

'I'm not in my grave yet,' Arthur grumbled, pulling back on his strap.

Benjamin scanned the gathered family frantically, hoping someone would somehow pick up the silent, desperate signals he sent with his eyebrows. Harry casually strolled over and clapped Arthur on the back. 'I don't know about anyone else, but I don't remember much about the process of checking into the campsite and all,' he remarked, a bit louder than was strictly necessary. 'I wasn't really paying attention. And you know more Ministry witches and wizards than the rest of us put together. You'll keep us organized and make sure we all end up where we ought to be.'

Arthur let go of the strap reluctantly, and he gazed wryly at Harry, with only a raised brow to comment on the clumsy, albeit public, manipulation. 'Too clever for your own good, lad,' he groused.

'I'll let you take it out of my hide later,' Harry promised, with a slight motion of his head at Benjamin. With a sigh of relief, Benjamin slid his arms through the straps and settled the pack.

Arthur waved his wand at the garden gate. 'We'll be taking more than one Portkey,' he called over his shoulder as he led his weary family out into the lane. 'Everyone stick close together now. It's a long walk to Stoatshead Hill.'

XxXxXxX

Fred and Jacob paced on either side of James. 'So... Maya's not coming?' Fred asked.

James shook his head. 'No,' he said shortly.

'Shame,' Jacob intoned. 'Might make this farce of familial support go by easier, no?'

'Might,' James allowed. 'And it might not.' He glanced over his shoulder to where Harry and Ginny trailed at the end of the line, wending up to the peak of Stoatshead Hill. 'Truthfully... I didn't ask if she could come. Didn't think Mum and Dad would let her, to be honest.'

Fred shared a knowing grin with Jacob. 'Is that so?'

'Yeah.' James rearranged his knapsack and rolled his head, making his neck crackle and pop.

'Trouble in paradise?' Jacob sighed sympathetically.

'Well, no,' James admitted. 'It's been bloody fantastic. But, erm, Mum caught us snogging in my room before Dad's big birthday bash. Had more than a few words to say about that.'

'I don't see how snogging would send off Aunt Ginny,' Fred said thoughtfully. His face cleared in as comprehension dawned. 'Ohhhh, I see,' he drawled. 'It wasn't mere snogging, eh?'

James coughed lightly and shook his head. 'No.'

'Ah... A bit of a boff, then?' Fred chortled gleefully. 'Do tell!'

'I don't think so,' James muttered.

'That's not fair,' Jacob moaned dramatically. 'It's a bleeding long walk, and we need to be entertained.'

James' mouth twisted. 'Fine!' he snapped. 'I'll tell you what didn't happen if it'll shut you up. Mum didn't catch us in bed, she didn't catch me with my hand in Maya's pants, and neither of us was starkers at the time, all right? Not a damn thing happened.' He aimed a kick at a tuft of grass and strode ahead of the twins.

Jacob gazed at James' stiff shoulders for a moment before meeting his twin's mischievous eyes. 'What do you want to bet that he wished something had happened?'

Fred snorted. 'Too easy. I'll just give you the Sickles now.' He rummaged in his trouser pocket and fished out a single Sickle and slapped it into Jacob's palm. 'Only because I've seen the way James looks at Maya.'

'Like he's a first year on the train, and the food trolley just stopped at his compartment,' Jacob chuckled. They joined the family already gathered at the top of the hill, Arthur waiting impatiently for the stragglers to appear.

'We're looking for three Portkeys,' Arthur announced. 'Twelve to a single Portkey.' He gathered the younger children off to the side. 'Now, what do you suppose we're going to search for?'

'A bit of rubbish,' Aidan volunteered.

'That's right,' Arthur beamed. 'And why is it usually rubbish?'

'So Muggles ignore it,' Owen said, eyes scanning the ground.

'Examples?' Arthur prompted.

'Drinks cans, old shoes or wellies, bits of old cars,' Patrick rattled off proudly.

'Correct,' Arthur said. 'Now, Stoatshead Hill doesn't usually have bits of rubbish lying about, so you'll need to look carefully, as the Ministry might have tried to conceal it.' He beckoned on Marissa and Leo, hanging back bashfully. 'How much do you need to touch?' he asked them.

'Just a finger,' Leo choked. His eyes darted to Patrick and Peyton before quickly asking, 'What's a wellie?' As Patrick and Peyton giggled at his question, Leo's cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. The giggles were quickly cut off at a quelling look from Molly.

'They're just the boots some wear when it rains, dear,' she said to Leo. 'Now, off with you to find the Portkeys. And when we get settled in Belgium, I'll have elevenses ready for you.'

'Uh, what's that?' Leo asked, in low voice, so the others didn't hear. His thick brows knit in confusion.

'Just a little something to tide you over until lunchtime.' Molly gently pushed Marissa and Leo in a direction opposite from where the others had gone. 'Now, go see if you can't fine one of the Portkeys before the others.'

They didn't have to go far before Leo tripped over a seemingly abandoned, rusted prybar. He dragged it to Arthur, shouting excitedly. 'I found one!'

Arthur turned it over in his hands, searching for the small 'M' engraved on one side. It was there, the block M of the British Ministry of Magic symbol etched in the dark metal.

'I think this might be another one,' Bill said ruefully, rubbing his bottom. 'Stumbled over it and landed in a gorse bush.' He held a tattered trainer in his other hand. Sure enough, the Ministry's stamp decorated the sole.

Rose began to pace around the hill. Not because she was actively looking for the final Portkey, but her competitive nature wouldn't allow her to stand aside and let others do the searching. A faded plastic child's toy pail nestled under a tree. She swept it up and examined it closely. 'Got it!' she announced, pointing to the Ministry's mark.

Arthur checked his watch. 'Gather round a Portkey! Make sure you've got at least a finger on it!'

Harry sidled in next to Ron. 'Do you think anyone would notice if I forgot to touch the Portkey?' he mused.

'Only everyone in England,' Ron shot back. Harry's only reply was a grunt as he laid his index finger on the rim of the pail, just as it began to glow with pale blue light. The familiar jerk behind his navel pulled him off the ground and sent him spinning into the grey morning mist.

XxXxXxX

If Harry had expected Ramsgate to be a chaotic sprawl of wizardkind, clamoring to get to Belgium, he was wrong. As one Portkey arrived, the previous one was flying off across the North Sea. He squinted, attempting to make out the object the passengers were on, as it was much too large to be a broom. Even for the variety sold as family transportation. 'Those look like...'

'Flying carpets...' Ron finished.

'Blimey,' Harry breathed.

'I thought flying carpets were illegal,' Ginny remarked idly.

'They are,' sighed Hermione. 'Technically, carpets are classified as a Muggle object in Britain and are strictly banned for transportation. But, as I'm repeatedly told, this is the World Cup.' A look of extreme distaste crossed her features. 'All rules are suspended when it comes to Quidditch,' she groused under her breath. 'Every carpet to Bruges is accompanied by a Ministry representative and strictly accounted for, not to mention charmed with every spell we could think of to hide them from Muggles.'

Ron stared at her agog. 'Why didn't you say anything?' he spluttered.

'You never asked,' Hermione reminded him primly. 'Besides, I was bound to secrecy, given the status of flying carpets in Britain.'

'Ron! Hermione! Harry! Ginny! Stop dawdling and get on!' Arthur shouted from his perch on a large carpet that looked like it might have graced the halls of Buckingham Palace, it was so large.

The foursome trudged toward the enormous rug, its fringes bent into ersatz steps for them to climb aboard. 'I wasn't in favor of it,' Hermione remarked, gesturing at the carpet.

'Obviously,' Ron told Harry in an undertone.

Hermione heard the comment and whirled around. 'Only because it's so much more difficult to conceal a bloody carpet instead of a broom!' she hissed shrilly. 'There are dozens of different ways to cross a body of water that don't involve air travel,' she huffed, plopping on the carpet, arms crossed stiffly over her chest.

Ron settled next to her, knapsack straps looped over one arm. Hermione hated flying of any sort where the chances of falling off were better than none - brooms, thestrals, dragons, and - now it seemed - flying carpets. 'It'll be fine,' he crooned, stroking her back. 'I won't let you fall off.'

'Brilliant,' Hermione snarled.

Harry pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The carpet rose steadily into the air and floated away in a stately manner that belied its speed. A Ministry official stood unsteadily, clinging to a fringe that had helpfully risen to provide support. 'Right, then,' he shouted over the rush of wind in their ears. 'When we arrive in Bruges, we're going to land on the roof of their city hall. You must report immediately to the Belgian Ministry officials once you disembark. From Bruges you'll take a Portkey to the Abbey of Notre-Dame d' Orval,' he pronounced.

'Another one?' squeaked Lily in dismay. She blanched, sweat popping along her hairline.

Teddy took one look at her face and waved vigorously to get the Ministry official's attention. 'Oi!' he yelled. 'Can we Apparate?'

'I don't know,' the official said doubtfully. 'You might end up in the wrong place...'

Charlie leaned forward. 'Will there be a map in Bruges?' he asked

'What do you mean?' The official was stymied by changing plans. He didn't operate well when people went off the planned script.

'The lad's an Obliviator,' Charlie explained with exaggerated patience. 'He's been trained to Apparate according to map coordinates.' Which you would know if you took the time to learn about the other Ministry departments, Charlie thought savagely, marveling at the level of unyielding stupidity of some Ministry employees.

'I... I suppose...' The official glanced at Teddy. 'But why?'

'If my baby sister has to take another Portkey, she's going to be sick all over everyone. And I don't fancy having someone else's sick dripping down my shirt. It's new.' Teddy stared down the official, whose face was glazed with nervous sweat.

'Oh... Well... that'll be fine, then...'

Teddy winked at Lily mouthed her heartfelt thanks. She then resumed her huddled pose on the carpet, nudging Scorpius. 'I hope Albus appreciates all this,' she said truculently.

'If he even notices,' Scorpius responded.

April eyed the Weasleys in various postures of indifference. 'Is it just me, or does it feel like a Rolling Stones song around here?' she asked Benjamin. 'I can't get no... satisfaction,' she sang softly.

'Yeah, I don't know what the problem is,' Benjamin confessed. 'When I came to see Molly and Arthur, they were much more pleasant and cheerful.' He shrugged apologetically.

'There's something not right, you know?' April continued. 'Everyone else I've seen here is ecstatic at the prospect of England winning the World Cup.'

'I'd ask, but...' Benjamin trailed off. 'I know Harry's younger son is playing with England, and Arthur and Molly have been... Cryptic about how he got on the team so young.'

'There's a story there,' April commented. 'I'm sure of it.'

'Well, leave it be,' Benjamin told her. 'If they wanted to talk about it, they would.' April made a noncommittal noise and turned her gaze to the water rushing below them.

Too soon for Harry's taste, the spires of Bruges medieval churches came into view and the carpet descended majestically to the roof of the Bruges city hall. In no time at all, the family had arrived at the Abbey, and set up camp in short order, as Arthur made no objections to using magic this time. The younger members dispersed to wander through the encampment, gawking at the various tents and meeting friends from school. Vendors sold everything from small red-and-white English flags to scarves to the ubiquitous figurines of the players. Lily poked at a tiny rendering of Al with a finger. 'Almost want to buy one,' she confessed.

'Why would you do something daft like that?' James demanded.

'So I can stomp on it,' Lily replied tranquilly.

James pulled her away by the arm. 'Don't waste your gold,' he ordered. 'Besides, you can always use him for target practice next time he insults your skills at self-defense, yeah? And knowing Albus lately, that'll be soon enough.'

'Shouldn't we at least look like we're supporting England?' Scorpius mused.

James took in the various vendors. 'Let's get a scarf,' he decided. 'Come in handy if the weather turns cool later.' He elbowed his way to the vendor. 'Three, please.'

'That'll be six Galleons.'

As James turned out his pockets, Scorpius muttered, 'I've got it.' He counted out six gold coins from the small bag that had mysteriously appeared in his knapsack before he'd left Wilshire yesterday. 'Least I can do after all your family's doing for me.' He accepted the neatly folded scarves from the vendor with a murmur of thanks and doled them out to Lily and James. Lily immediately wound hers loosely around her neck. Her hair was caught under the scarf, and Scorpius reached to extricate it, before catching himself and shoving his hands into his pockets. Seemingly oblivious to his actions, Lily swept the length of dark red hair free from the folds of the scarf and it swirled around her shoulders and over her back. Scorpius gulped and as nonchalantly as he dared, lowered the scarf until it hid his rather untimely reaction from view, and hoped James hadn't noticed.

'Let's get back to the tent,' Lily said. 'I'm getting hungry.'

'How can you be hungry?' James asked incredulously. 'You were just sick all over Teddy's trainers not an hour ago!' Lily merely tossed her head and continued her meandering path through the throng of witches and wizards. James tugged on Scorpius' sleeve as the younger boy made to follow her. 'Back off, would you?' he said casually. 'She's just turned fourteen.' Scorpius was deeply mortified, as the flush creeping down his face could attest. James released him and began to walk back to the tent. 'Just a warning before Dad notices. You don't hide it nearly as well as you think you do.'

Scorpius inhaled slowly, then blew it out, ruffling the blonde hair over his forehead. 'Duly noted.'

As twilight descended over the Abbey, the milling spectators made their way to the stadium, voices rising in an excited murmur. Streams of people wearing either the bright red of England or the pale blue of Argentina poured into the stadium, but the Weasleys broke from the current and entered through a small, inconspicuous door and began to climb the dizzying spiral staircase all the way to the top, where the English players' families would watch the game.

Harry found two seats in the shadows, far behind everyone else, and immediately claimed them for Ginny and himself. He threw himself into the deep wicker chair, praying the shadows concealed him as much as possible. Movement in front of the box captured his attention and he leaned forward, peering through the gaps between other people. 'What in Merlin's name...?'

A blinding flash followed by a puff of purple smoke caught him off guard and he scowled at the realization that their privacy had been invaded by photographers on broomsticks, of all things. 'Oi! Mr. Potter! Why aren't you and Mrs. Potter sitting in the front? The better to see Al win the Cup for England!'

Harry scowled, pushing his chair deeper into the shadows, but made no reply. It did not deter the wizard on the broom.

'Rumor has it that you and Mrs. Potter aren't thrilled with Albus' position on the team. Care to comment?'

'No. Thank you,' Ginny said flatly. She made a show of checking her watch. 'Now if you don't mind, the match is about to start, and I prefer to worry about my underage son ending up in the hospital rather than your questions.'

Scandalized, Percy leaned forward to hiss, 'You weren't supposed to interview families within the stadium!'

'Free press, chum,' the wizard shot back triumphantly before racing away, camera dangling from a strap around his neck.

'Do you know him?' Percy asked Ginny sharply.

Ginny sank into her seat, massaging the bridge of her nose. 'Not really.'

Before Percy could further interrogate her, a voice boomed through the stadium. 'Ladies and gentlemen! The International Quidditch Association welcomes you to the final of the four hundred and forty-ninth Quidditch World Cup! Tonight's match pits England against Argentina, in what is sure to be an exciting contest and showcase of skills! Bur first, allow me to introduce the mascots for the Argentinean team!' The sky suddenly filled with dozens of unearthly golden birds. Harry flinched, raising his hand to block the light from his eyes that reflected from the setting sun off the birds' feathers.

'Are those phoenixes?' Ron breathed.

'Alicantos,' Hermione supplied, slipping a pair of dark glasses over her nose. She handed a pair to Ron. 'Put these on.'

Ron complied, but still stared at the birds, flying in concentric circles over the pitch. 'But what are they?'

'Creatures from a desert in Chile, but it sort of blends into another desert in Argentina,' she said. 'They're said to be able to find gold and silver in the mountains.'

'I see...' Ron leaned forward, mesmerized by the ever-changing patterns of light.

'If you follow them, they'll lead you to gold or silver,' Hermione continued. 'That is, if they don't catch you following them. If they do, they'll lead you off a cliff to your certain death,' she added, sharply poking Ron in the ribs.

'Eh?' Ron shook his head, blinking as if to clear mental cobwebs. 'What was that?' he said, slightly dazed, peering at Hermione.

'Honestly,' Hermione sighed. 'Just stay in your seat and try not to go haring off after them.'

'Oh... all right, then.' Ron watched as the Alicantos dove toward the grass, then pulled up at the last possible moment so it looked as if they bounced, then rose as one in the shape of the Sun of May, hovering over the stadium for several long moments before breaking apart to form a ring above the stadium.

The announcer paused for a moment then bellowed, 'And now, the squad from Argentina!' Seven pale blue blurs darted into the stadium and flew in an ever-changing, complex formation around the pitch to the strains of a guitar picking out a lively tango. 'At Keeper, Alfonso Rios! Chasers, Daniela Aguilar, Ignacio Correa, and team captain Nahuel Suarez! Beaters, Pablo Torres and Patricio Nuñez! And at Seeker...' The announcer once again paused dramatically. 'Suyai Medina!' Nearly half the stadium exploded in cheers, waving flags and banners. Scattered throughout the stands were large Argentine flags, magically rippling as if in a light breeze, even though the night was still and calm. The Alicantos' wings beat rapidly sending bright, nearly blinding lights over the crowd. 'And now for the English mascots! Seven large, winged golden horses galloped onto the pitch in a single file line, scattering the Alicantos, each taking flight as soon as their hooves touched the center circle. The Aethonons flew in a straight line, one under the other, and rather like the Alicantos, wove in and out of the line in a series of complex patterns until they had completed one circuit of the pitch, then went back to the middle in their vertical line. Once back in the center, they pivoted to create a horizontal line, then plunged as one under a set of goalposts, grasping something in their teeth, and without stopping, switched direction to fly backward. They unfurled a large banner than nearly spanned the width of the pitch. Four alternating blocks of red and white were emblazoned with three golden dragons. A Quaffle floated above the middle dragon, with Bludgers between the dragons. It undulated slowly, bringing the roar of the English fans to a fever pitch, then shimmered and disappeared. The Aethonons alit on the pitch and trotted in unison in a circuit around the arena. They suddenly split in half and stood in two lines outside the entrance of England's changing room, with one closing off the lane they created, as a sort of honor guard, facing out into the stadium. 'The English squad! Nathan Fells, Beater! Adrian Barlett, Keeper! Chasers, Charlotte Winterbottom, Ethan Palmer, and team captain Justin Frye!' Each player shot from the changing room and mimicked the Aethonons' positions. 'And playing Seeker, after his dramatic win for England at the semifinals against Bulgaria... Albus Potter!' The screams were deafening from the English fans. The Aethonons reared and pawed at the air, their neighs echoing over the shouts of the crowd. Al flew around the pitch in a lazy circle, beaming like the sun.

Harry buried his face in his hands. 'Oh, God...' he murmured, unsure if it was a curse or a prayer.

'Tonight's referee will be Norio Murakami, the Chairwizard of the International Quidditch Association.' A compact, wiry Japanese wizard strode to the center of the pitch, carrying the trunk containing the Quaffle, Bludgers, and the Golden Snitch. The players from both teams danced in anticipation overhead in an airborne ballet, waiting for that breathless moment when the Snitch would be released. By instinct, Harry's focus zeroed in on Murakami's gloved hand, an audible intake of breath the only sign that he'd seen the Snitch dart from the referee's hand into the darkening sky. Al vanished in a blur of red. Ginny rose from her chair and began to pace restlessly in the back of the box, unable to watch the game unfolding above their heads. Harry's Seeker intuition compelled him to search the pitch, looking for the tiny speck of gold.

Al blocked out everything except the Snitch. He paid no attention to his counterpart, certain she was blind and deaf to the swirl of the game around them as well. All he would later confess to hearing was the rush of wind and his own blood in his ears. Time lost all meaning, and at one point he was momentarily surprised to see that the sun had fully set and the sky was lush and black with night, pricked with stars. The referee blew his whistle and Adrian had to cast sparks in front of Al's face to capture his attention. The team had called a time-out to discuss strategy. Al raised his face up to the scoreboard, wondering when England had scored two hundred points. Argentina was close behind with one hundred seventy. 'Al!' Walter growled.

'Yeah?' Al felt preternaturally calm as he gazed serenely at his coach.

'Listen, I don't want to encroach on your play, and you're doing great,' Walter said in low, urgent tones. 'Whatever you're doing is completely baffling Medina. She can't seem to determine if you're being random or if you have a purpose.'

'Yeah, all right.' Al nodded, feeling as if his head might float away.

'But do pay attention to the score. Argentina's going to pull even soon, and then it's all over but for the crying if Medina gets to the Snitch before you.'

Justin slapped Al genially on the back, making the boy stagger a little. 'But no pressure,' he said with a chuckle.

'Just try and catch the blasted thing soon, all right?' Walter entreated with no little desperation. 'I know they want a good show and all, but I'd rather get this over with and win the damn Cup!' He thrust a hand into the center of the circle. The team did the same and by an unspoken signal, they all shouted, 'England!' before taking flight again.

Al took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, scanning the pitch. It has to be here somewhere... He glanced up and saw Medina flying in slow zigzags, head swiveling so fast, the long plait down her back swished ceaselessly from side to side. Hm. She doesn't know where it is, either. Right. Now, shut it, and think for a moment. What do you know about this Snitch?

Scorpius' brows drew together in a frown. 'What's he doing?' he whispered to James.

'I have no idea,' James responded woodenly. 'I think his eyes are closed...'

'He's thinking,' Charlie retorted. 'Better late than never,' he added softly.

'Thinking about what?' asked Scorpius in bemusement.

'Every Snitch is different, right?' Charlie spoke quietly, eyes fixed on the game.

Scorpius shrugged. 'I suppose...'

'Each one behaves with unique mannerisms and speeds. International standard Snitches like this are fast, no matter what else they do. Some like to hide in the shadows, barely moving so you don't see them until they move. Some fly alongside other players. Some fly in erratic patterns. It just depends on the wizard or witch that made it. You follow?'

'Yes...'

'If Al is doing what he ought to do at this point, considering the game's been on for nearly three hours, he's trying to analyze the Snitch's movements. Trying to anticipate it. Argentina's Chasers are top-notch, and that's what's saved the team on more than one occasion. But Nathan's a hell of a Keeper. Not much gets past him. That's not to say our Chasers aren't superb as well, but Rios is just as good as Nathan. Medina's been slow to find the Snitch this entire tournament, but Argentina usually has a decent cushion against that. And now we're at a stalemate until someone catches the Snitch.'

'What's Medina doing, then?' Rose huffed impatiently. 'I could have caught the Snitch by now...'

Charlie heaved a sigh. 'Dunno. But she might be waiting for Al to make a mistake. Hoping he'll cock it up royally and hand her the Snitch on a silver platter, given his age and inexperience.'

'A distinct possibility,' Rose interjected. 'Given the size of his head.'

Charlie shrugged, but made no comment, not quite acquiescing to Rose's statement.

Far above the stadium, Al's eyes slowly opened. There it was. Fluttering near a large Argentine flag. His mind closed to all but the Snitch once more, and he plummeted from his lofty perch, aiming for that elusive flutter between his fingers.

He never saw Suyai Medina shoot upward at the same time.

But then again, he didn't need to. Victory was cradled in the palm of his hand, and he was buffeted by the swelling roars of the English supporters, a beatific smile on his face.

XxXxXxX

Fog settled over the valley, nestling among the houses of Godric's Hollow. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and Harry stoked the fire against the dank chill. He turned to the others and slipped his hands into his pockets, feeling strangely reassured by the presence of his wand. 'Go on to bed,' he told James, Lily, and Scorpius. 'I'm sure the team will be in late. And we'll have an early morning tomorrow.'

'We don't have to get our things for school tomorrow, Dad,' proffered James hesitantly. 'We can order them through the post, even.'

'Nonsense,' Ginny said briskly. 'The lot of you need new uniforms. And it's much easier to replenish your Potions kit when you're in the Apothecary and can examine the quality of what you're buying.' She plucked the afghan from the armchair she'd vacated and folded it in precise lines. 'Albus will just have to wake up with the rest of us, and I don't care how sleep-deprived he'll be come morning. Things will go back to normal.'

'Sure they will,' James agreed flatly. He rose from the sofa, beckoning to Lily and Scorpius, who followed him with no arguments. 'G'night, Mum. Dad.' He ran up the stairs, more to escape the thick tension in the sitting room than an actual desire for sleep.

'Are you sleepy?' Harry asked Ginny, facing the dancing flames of the fire.

'No. You?'

'No. I don't think I'm going to sleep until he's home.'

'Me, either,' Ginny agreed.

'I've got work to do,' Harry offered. 'Evaluations next week. Meeting with Andre about the new trainee.'

'I've got articles to edit myself,' Ginny mused. 'New season starting soon...' She walked into their office and sat at her desk, absently toying with a quill, staring sightlessly at a sheaf of parchment. She was dimly aware Harry had done the same at his own desk. She gazed at the writing until it blurred and swam. 'You know we're just fooling ourselves and trying to keep busy until he comes home,' she commented idly.

The back door opened and closed and footsteps tramped up the stairs, heavy and unsteady.

'Speak of the devil,' Harry murmured. 'Go on up to bed. I'll check in on him.'

'Are you sure?' Ginny asked doubtfully.

'Yeah, it'll be fine. I'm just going to make sure he still has his extremities and go to bed.'

'Okay...' Ginny rose in a stretch and headed for the stairs, Harry close behind. 'He's in the bath,' she said, noting the crack of light under the door.

'Door's not closed all the way,' Harry stated. 'Must be brushing his teeth or something. I'll knock,' he assured his wife. At the top of the stairs, Harry waited until Ginny had gone into the bedroom and gently closed the door. As promised, Harry tapped lightly on the bathroom door. 'Albus?' The door swung open wider and Harry stood in the shadows, dumbfounded by the sight before him. Al stood facing away from the mirror, his shirt dangling from one hand, examining a mark on his left shoulder blade. His hair was more tousled than usual, and his expression bleary, eyes bloodshot. Alarmed, Harry put out a hand. 'Son, are you hurt?'

Al jumped a little, but grinned. 'Not at all!'

Harry grasped Al by the arm and turned him around, his heart in his throat when the mark on Al's back came into view. Harry's eyes bulged with nascent rage when we caught sight of the wavering red and blue lines. 'Have you gone mad?' he barked.

'What do you mean?'

'That... that... -thing on your back!' Harry's voice rose a few more decibels.

'What about it?' Al scoffed. 'It's just a Muggle tattoo. We all got them.'

Harry's wand swung in an arc and the tip lit with the intensity of a small sun. What he had initially perceived to be a nest of snakes turned out to be a stylized red-and-blue lion's head, the tail extending from the mane, framing the numbers "2022". 'What the bloody hell possessed you to do this?'

'Dad, we all got them,' Al explained insolently. 'Because we won. We were celebrating.'

Harry caught a whiff of the fug emanating from his youngest son. 'Were you drunk as well?'

Al sniggered. 'Might have had a few pints.'

'You're only sixteen!' Harry seethed.

'But I won the Quidditch World Cup,' Al sang triumphantly. 'Something neither you, nor Mum ever did!' Stunned, Harry could only gape at Al, wondering who this person was. 'I made the decision to try out for England, and I made the decision to get this tattoo.'

'Have the taught you nothing?' Harry blurted. 'What tattoos mean to wizards?'

'That was ages ago, Dad,' Al said dismissively. 'Nobody cares anymore.'

'I do,' Harry said icily.

'Yeah, because your big accomplishment was over twenty years ago,' Al said snidely. 'Time to step aside and let someone else in the family do something for a change.'

'What did you say?' Harry whispered, stunned.

'It's because you didn't have a proper family growing up,' Al blithely continued. 'So you've got to have it all for yourself.'

Harry's grip tightened on his wand, the handle slipping in his sweaty palm. 'Get out.'

'What?'

'Get out of my house,' Harry thundered.

Al studied Harry for a long moment. 'Fine!' he snapped. 'Bloody fine! It's getting to be a bit of bore around here anyway!'

Harry's tenuous grip on his temper disintegrated. 'Go, then!' he shouted. 'Get out!'

Al jerked his shirt over his head and tumbled down the stairs. He flew out of the front door, slamming it behind him. The sound reverberated up the stairs and Harry let his wand fall from limp fingers. He stumbled back, feet giving way as they landed on empty air, and he thudded to the stairs, sliding bruisingly down a few risers. Ginny crept from their bedroom, and crouched behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

'Oh God, Ginny,' Harry moaned. 'What have I done?'

Ginny could only shake her head, tears streaming down her face.

'What have I done?' Harry repeated in bewilderment.

XxXxXxX

A/N: Alicantos are mythical creatures from the Atacama Desert in northwestern Chile. My understanding is that it borders Bolivia to the north and Argentina to the east, and blends into the Monte and Patagonian Deserts. Since it's so close to the Argentine border, I thought they could be mascots for the Argentinean team.

Is it Argentine or Argentinean? According to what I could find (and apologies to any Argentine/Argentinean readers if I'm wrong...) Argentine is used for inanimate objects, and Argentinean is used for people. Or you could use Argentine exclusively. Or Argentinean exclusively.

Aethonons are listed in Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. They can be found in Britain.

Al's tattoo is modeled after a British insignia I saw during the 2008 Summer Olympics (yes, I've had this chapter in mind for a long, long time...).

And just a general note... I haven't abandoned anything I'm writing here. I recently moved 2000 miles from home and have just gotten settled. Hopefully there won't be the extended gaps between updates anymore. Fortunately, my fiancé is extraordinarily supportive and encouraging.

If you have questions, you know where to find me. I plan to clear out the enormous backlog of review I need to reply to this weekend.