ing at a man who was striding toward them.
"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, even
including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch
robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture
of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man
gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely
had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was
squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue
eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown
schoolboy.
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs
attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.
"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a
day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming ...
and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements.... Not much for me to do!"
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at
the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks
twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of
the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to
make a good impression.
"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at
the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron
- my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his
eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is,
it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"
Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.
57
"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be
a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already
got Roddy Pontner 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 weeklong match."
"Oh ... go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see ... a Galleon on Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself.
"Very well, very well ... any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and
George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets
the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but
Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his
boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand
gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with
laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for
that!"
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting.... That's all
your savings .... Your mother -"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets
excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will
win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance.... I'll give you
excellent odds on that one .... We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then,
shall we...."
Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and
quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and
tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to
Mr. Weasley.
"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My
Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word
he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty
languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff
58
disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two
hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll. . ."
"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and
grunt."
Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring
the kettle back to the boil.
"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled
himself down on the grass beside them all.
"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "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, thinking it's still
July."
"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley
suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.
"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening
innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil!
Barty!"
A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of
a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty
Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and
tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his
narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His
shoes were very highly polished. Harry could see at once why Percy idolized him.
Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had
complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have
passed for a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted
him for what he really was.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his
voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add
another twelve seats to the Top Box."
"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. I thought the chap was asking to
borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him
look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you,
Weatherby."
59
Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears,
busied himself with the kettle.
"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his
sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a
word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."
Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.
"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a
hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of
Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"
"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to
export here."
"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.
"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle, said Mr. Crouch. "I
remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was
before carpets were banned, of course."
He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors
had abided strictly by the law.
"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.
"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no
mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked.
"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun.... Still, it's not as though we haven't
got anything to took forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"
Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.
"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"
"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges.
"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, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply,
cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."
He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman
struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets
chinking merrily.
60
"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm
commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them
Disapparated.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking
about?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr.Weasley, smiling.
"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it,"
said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.
A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the
afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with
anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting
wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have
bow