[Podfic] Harry Potter and the Two-Way Mirror by thewholeofthemoon

Chapter 3: Chapter Three

As the group walked eagerly along the trail lit by red and green glowing floating lanterns through the wooded area between the campgrounds and the stadium, Arthur Weasley felt almost like a teenager again—which he had been at his first and only other time attending the Cup. He beamed at the eager and awed faces of his children, keeping an extra close eye on the twins like Molly bid him to do, but mostly feeling as if he was as young as them again.

At the news that Arthur had gotten tickets, he’d felt like nothing in the world would dim his spirits for the match, no matter which nations were playing. But he had to admit, that when he had found out Sirius got tickets for he, Harry, and Remus, and of course would be attending with the Weasley’s and Hermione, Arthur had felt a wee bit of a deflation in his excitement. Arthur was used to Harry’s fame and people’s and Harry’s reaction. Harry was always made uncomfortable by such attention, so that it usually faded quickly and without much fuss, especially if Arthur intervened as he had done on a few occasions. Besides, if it was just Harry, he could hide among the group of kids and people might even not notice he was there. Sirius, however, had been known as a young man at Hogwarts for preening a bit with his popularity and growing reputation.

Now, Arthur had met Sirius properly since his time in Azkaban and after taking over guardianship of Harry, and Arthur had found himself pleasantly taking to this grown Sirius of the present day—his love, protection, and care of Harry was readily apparent; he was a gracious and enthralling party host who did not strut or toss his hair or boast; he was a loyal and true friend to Remus Lupin, which was something Arthur had not been around to see in Sirius as a young man and found made him all the more likeable. Sirius Black, born into the House with the greatest pureblood supremacy complex in Britain, had come to be known for renouncing his family’s ways and his fighting in the Wizarding War, but witnessing first-hand his dedication to a half-blood werewolf made Arthur see Sirius’ past actions and choices not just as in retaliation of his family, or as perhaps as a way to prove himself or show-off, but as who he truly was. Arthur now had no doubt that Sirius was compassionate, loyal, and loved fiercely—exactly like James Potter, his late best friend. No wonder Sirius had been made godfather.

BUT—all of that said—Arthur had still been a bit unsure of how Sirius may handle attention at the World Cup from, for example, beautiful young Witches. He didn’t think that would be good for Harry, or his own kids for that matter. He knew that in guardianship of Harry, Sirius would die for the boy without a heartbeat, but did he know what was the best way to behave in such a setting? For Harry and all of their sakes?

Arthur almost skipped as he walked, his Irish flag waving in his hands, which he had charmed not to sing until they got to their seats. He had found that afternoon that he had had nothing to worry about, for Sirius Black, it seemed, would always be full of surprises.

Sirius had not even once looked at any of the numerous enamored Witches at the campgrounds. One of Arthur’s colleagues at the Ministry, an impressive twenty-five-year-old Witch named Sasha Silverton, (a former Ravenclaw who shot through the Department ranks with ease and also happened to look like a supermodel), had greeted Arthur on her way past the tent that afternoon. She sashayed over to Arthur, talking a bit loudly and not even pretending to be looking him directly in the eye as she greeted him, gazing entirely at Sirius before getting to her chance to say hello. Sirius, who had been sitting on the grass outside of the tent beside Remus, both men with their backs against the canvas and legs stretched out in front of them and crossed identically at the ankles, had been leaning with his head low to listen to something Remus was telling him.

“Sirius Black, such a pleasure,” Sasha had almost cooed, stepping towards him and flipping her sheath of voluminous golden hair.

Sirius had glanced up, smiling from whatever it was Remus had told him, and nodded towards her with eyes that seemed to Arthur to be a bit unfocused, “Hello, alright?” he had told her, and turned back to Remus, not waiting for a reply. Arthur had watched Sirius chuckle at Remus’ low voice, and Sirius’ eyes flashed with a brightness that had not been there when he had briefly looked at Sasha.

Huh, Arthur had thought, and almost laughed aloud. Sirius Black, whose youthful rebel-ways and long-lasting good-looks made him a de facto assumed womanizer, had been so well-behaved so far at the World Cup that Arthur was now fully convinced that taking over his godfather duties had changed the man.

Nothing at all in the world could dim Arthur’s spirits now as they reached the stadium wall, the structure so tall and wide, several cathedrals could fit comfortably inside.

Arthur led the way to the nearest entrance. A Ministry Witch checked all of their tickets and up they went up the purple carpeted steps, the crowd filtering their way to the left or right on each landing. Finally, after a long climb, they all reached the top of the staircase and entered their box, taking their seats in the front row of the top box of the stadium—Sirius had pulled a few strings and spent quite a few Galleons to make sure he got seats with the Weasley party. Arthur was seated on one end, followed Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Sirius, and Remus.

Harry Potter, sitting with Ron on one side and Sirius on the other, looked down at the view of the stadium and thought he’d never loved magic more in his life.

A hundred thousand Witches and Wizards in a colossal oval stadium which radiated golden light; the grass of the green field looked like velvet; the three goal hoops on either end of the field fifty-feet high; a gigantic blackboard directly opposite from their box seat hung over the stadium, flashing slogans and advertisements in gold letters.

Hermione, on the other side of Ron, who was busy staring out of Omnioculars, was holding the Cup program sheet, “A display of the team mascots will precede the match,” she told them.

“Oh, that’ll be brilliant!” Arthur said from the end of the row, “National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.”

They had half an hour before the match, and while the box they were in was a Ministry box, the group were spared the political greetings—the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, stepped into the box with his eyes on Harry, but took one look at Sirius’ glaring at him, and turned away from the group. The other Ministry workers and government officials from Ireland and Bulgaria took the cue from Fudge and avoided the group.

However, unfortunate for them all, there was one party of three who did not take their cue from the British Minister of Magic; the long pale-blonde haired man leading the party of two other pale-blonde heads had only ever taken his cues from one Wizard, and that Wizard was, thankfully for the Wizarding World, not considered ‘fully alive’ at present.

The Malfoy's went straight to Fudge and did their introductions, before Lucius Malfoy’s cold grey eyes swept knowingly toward the group in the box’s first row. His eyes scanned the Weasley’s, his lips curling as Hermione glared defiantly at him, then eyeing Harry somehow with eyes even colder, and then his gaze locked on Sirius.

Remus’ hand had gone immediately to Sirius’ knee at the sight of the Malfoy’s. Sirius’ cousin and Lucius’ wife, Narcissa, stood behind her husband, her face inscrutable, back rim-rod straight. At her side, Draco was alternating between looking haughtily at Harry, sneering at Sirius, and curling his lip in disgust at Remus.

Okay, Arthur Weasley thought, this might be something to dim my spirits.

Remus put a bit more pressure into his hand on Sirius’ knee. But just then, Fudge had begun talking to Lucius, pulling he and his family over toward the Bulgarian delegation, and the Malfoy’s eyes left the group.

Everyone gave an internal sigh of relief, and faced the field again. Sirius reached for Remus’ hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it drop. Remus retreated his hand back into his own lap.

We don’t engage, they had said, that had been their deal, and as it often did, Remus’ precautious planning had paid off.

The voice of Ludo Bagman suddenly roared over the stadium, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—WELCOME! WELCOME TO THE FINAL OF THE FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!” The blackboard now illuminated: BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

“And now, without further ado,” Ludo Bagman continued with his magically amplified voice, “allow me to introduce—the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The Veela that the Bulgarians brought danced in a whirl, their moon-lit skin and white-gold hair shining like they were made of pearls as they spun on the field. Arthur hurriedly looked toward his boys, keeping an eye on them as the Veela danced with their entrancing and blissful-inducing magic that tended to rather inebriate young boys and give them all sorts of dim-witted ideas. He stopped Fred and George from taking the shamrocks off their hats, and was leaning forward to look toward Ron when something else caught his attention.

Sirius and Remus were smiling at each other, talking in low voices, their eyes locked on one another. They were not even sparing a glance for the most beautiful female beings in the Magic world. Huh, Arthur thought. Maybe the two men, like him, were familiar with the Veela magic and didn’t want to embarrass themselves so they were purposefully looking away?

“Reckon all those boyhood ballroom dancing lessons haven’t worn off?” Remus was saying lowly to Sirius so no one else could hear, “I would have put my bet on you.”

Sirius barked a laugh, “Moony, are you saying you remember me ever dancing anything like that?” He waved an absent hand toward the field.

Remus gave him a wry smile, “I’m saying that if any man could properly dance with a Veela, it would be Sirius Black.”

“If I ever had the chance, you’d have had my guts for garters,” Sirius grinned at him.

Remus cocked an eyebrow, “Padfoot, are you saying that I’d be made insecure by a mere Veela? I was the Casanova of Gryffindor Tower, don’t you remember?”

Sirius laughed so hard he clutched his sides and wiped at his eyes, not noticing that, with the Veelas still dancing below, faster and faster now, Harry had begun to try to rise out of his seat. Arthur, looking purposefully away from the magical women below and watching his boys, looked down the row and found himself rather curious at whatever it was Remus Lupin, the kind and intelligent man who he knew to be quiet and genial, had said to Sirius Black to make him burst into barking laughter without an ounce of attention to Veela, of all beings. Arthur watched as Remus reached around Sirius’ laughing body with a long arm to pull Harry back down into his seat.

“Oh no, you don’t, Harry,” Remus said with a chuckle.

Arthur snapped his attention back to the twins and Ron, stopping them from standing as well as the music stopped and the crowd roared in anger at the Veela’s departure.

“Honestly!” Hermione tutted as Ginny laughed at the boys.

“And now,” came Ludo Bagman’s amplified voice again, “kindly put your wands in the air for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

A huge green and gold comet blazed into the stadium, circling the field before splitting into two, each racing toward the opposite goal posts on either side of the field before a rainbow arched into the golden-lit night sky, connecting the green and gold balls of light. The rainbow faded and the balls of light merged back into one, turning into an enormous sparking shamrock that rose into the air and over the stands as golden coins fell into the crowd. As the shamrock soared over their heads, they all saw it was made up of leprechauns, little red-bearded men each carrying a lamp of green or gold and small sacks filled with the gold coins they were raining down.

The mascots display faded, replaced with the introduction to the Bulgarian team players, who zoomed out on broomsticks from the entrance at the bottom of the field in scarlet robes; the world famous eighteen-year-old Seeker Viktor Krum last to emerge to uproarious cheers. The Irish team players were introduced, as well as the game’s referee, and with a blast of Hassan Mostafa’s whistle and a kick of the crate, the balls burst into the air and the match began.

Harry Potter was glued to the Omnioculars—the players all had Firebolts, and flew with speed such as he had never even imagined possible, but took a break away from the Omnioculars to cheer tumultuously with the rest of the group when Ireland scored. Hermione and Ginny were dancing on their feet, Arthur waving his flag, Fred and George shouting in their amplifiers Sirius bought them, Ron jumping up and down. Sirius and Remus were standing up to cheer too, Sirius pumping his fist and Remus clapping heartily.

As the game continued, growing in intensity with the teams scoring intermittently, Sirius’ hand couldn’t help but go to Remus knee or his shoulder, shouting out the plays: “Moony, that was the fastest Hawkshead Attacking Formation I’ve ever seen!”, “The Porskoff Play! Remember, Moony, in our fifth year House Cup, James’ knees almost touched the ground when he did that dive???”, “Bollocks that was a good Wronski Defensive Feint from Krum!”

Remus did not have time to reply to these exclamations as Ireland pulled ahead by ten points and the game got dirtier and still somehow faster and Sirius’ commentary became a none-stop run, but he was smiling so huge his face hurt, his voice growing hoarse from cheering, his eyes flashing rapidly between the game and Sirius’ and Harry’s animated faces.

Harry pulled the Omnioculars away from his face for a moment to adjust his glasses, and Remus caught Lily’s emerald eyes on her son’s face, wide as dates and shining with amazement.

Sirius turned his head part-way from the stadium to look back at Remus, his hand quickly returning to Remus’ shoulder, “Moony, did you see that???” he cried, his heart-breakingly handsome face looked so carefree and innocent and he was bouncing on his feet and Remus smiled somehow still wider and told him, “Yes, Pads, I saw!” But he did not mean the plays or the players or whatever it was Sirius had been referring to—he meant the two people he loved most in the world, who carried such burdens from their pasts, and they didn't need sparkling green and gold face paint to shine like the two brightest stars in the cosmos.

Lynch, the Irish Seeker, saw the Snitch first but Krum gave the fastest chase anyone had ever seen, and caught the Snitch—the noise from the stadium so loud for Remus’ advanced hearing he had to cover his ears—and the scoreboard flashed BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.

“What did he catch the Snitch for?” Ron demanded even as he was jumping up and down for Ireland, “He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!”

“He knew they were never going to catch up!” Harry shouted to his best friend, “The Irish Chasers were too good—he wanted to end it on his on his terms, that’s all!”

Sirius looked so proud of his godson’s understanding of Quidditch that he might burst, along with all of his joy at Ireland winning.

Remus, applauding, leaned over to Sirius, “You win,” he said with a mischievous grin. Remus had lost the biggest of their bets (he had put himself on Bulgaria catching the Snitch and winning the match, while Sirius had predicted this outcome, although the score he had predicted was not exact).

Sirius beamed up at him, bouncing forward on the balls of his feet toward Remus before rolling back on his heels, holding himself back from throwing his arms around Remus and kissing him fiercely--especially with the glittering green and gold paint setting off Moony's brilliant brown eyes, which were molten and focused overwhelmingly on Sirius.

Remus smiled knowingly and said, “Later.”

Sirius, voice hoarse from shouting and with Remus’ implication, growled, “Too right.”

Remus leaned back from Sirius as Fred and George ran over to Sirius and Remus with broad grins, holding the coins they had gathered from the leprechauns before the game, “We can fill our bets with more than pride now!!” They crowed, having won significantly with their bets on Ireland’s chasers.