Chronicles Of Arth: Prince Of Shadows

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes — green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria — which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told them as they strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain — ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Four pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No — don't bother," said Ron, going red.

"Make it three," said Arth ignoring Ron. He handed them to Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a wink.

"Don't need one, I have perfect vision you see."

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.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing.

They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley. "Ministry task force of five hundred 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."

"It's quite hilarious," said Arth with a grin. "A whole family comes with all their camping equipment but then run back home all because they forgot to feed the neighborhood cat."

They headed towards the nearest entrance.

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

They walked down to the lowest seats where a thin barrier lay in between them and the field. It was both great and horrible.

They had to strain their necks upwards however they had the closest view.

Hermione was skimming eagerly through her velvet covered, tasseled program.

" 'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,' " she read aloud.

"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

Arth glanced upwards where Ludo Bagman was getting ready to speak.

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

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.

The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last ad and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

"What are veel — ?" asked Harry.

A hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field. They were very beautiful and once the music started, Arth fell into a trance.

What beautiful traditional music the Bulgarians have. . .

"Harry, what are you doing?" said Hermione's voice from a long way off.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned to face Harry.

The music stopped. Harry was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box looking as though he was about to rush into the field. Next to him, Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard.

Arth didn't get it. The Veela were pretty, but not to the point of obsession. Or maybe it was his mental strength. . . Harry and Ron never really had strong minds to begin with.

They were drooling.

One of the Veela's stopped and stared at Arth who raised an eye brow. She tilted her head and pondered before beckoning Arth to come closer.

When Arth did she grabbed his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Caught off guard, Arth could only follow her lead.

"Ladies and Gentleman! I do not believe it! Is this not what I call love blooming in the World Cup? The Veela has went on the aggressive!"

Arth raised an eyebrow at the Veela who was currently forcing her tongue into his mouth and couldn't help but think that she was a good kisser.

After a few more seconds of kissing, the Veela parted from his face and licked her lips in a seductive way.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Has another man been ensnared by the the charm of a Veela? He looks starstruck!"

Arth frowned before grabbing the Veela's neck and pulling her in for another kiss, this time with him as the lead.

The Veela was obviously very surprised as she tried to struggle at first but in the end failed to do so and went along with Arth.

When Arth separated from her, the Veela fell to the floor with flushed cheeks and starstruck eyes. The other Veela helped her stand and made their way to the mascot area, not before giving Arth amazed looks.

Arth felt the gazes of thousands of men burning into his back but he did not care, for it wasn't him who initiated the kiss after all.

It was self defense.