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Albus Severus Potter woke up with a start. He panted as he remembered the eerie eyes of Salazar Slytherin staring at him from his dream, laughing in insanity. Last year, Albus had destroyed Salazar Slytherin, although not on purpose. The mysterious Lord Zajecfer had disappeared as well, defeated by his father, the famous Harry Potter. Albus thought about his nerve-wracking first year, in which he came into close encounters with Lord Zajecfer three times, spent hours looking for books in the library, and brewed a deadly potion. He’d had the occasional dream about it this summer, but none for the past few weeks until today. He was slowly getting over his terrifying ordeal.

The year hadn’t been too bad. He’d been sorted into Gryffindor, found three amazing friends, and became the reserve player on the Quidditch team. After being frustrated in his absymal spell-casting skills, Albus overcame that obstacle and excelled in most of his classes. Best of all, Albus had single-handedly won the House Cup for Gryffindor.

Albus exhaled a wistful sigh, glancing out of his window, and pulled his entanglement of white sheets tighter over himself. If only he could lay in this forever… but the sun streamed into his window, lightening the room. He glanced over at the letter sitting on his desk, inviting him to Hogwarts for another year. It was with a list of his required schoolbooks. Gilderoy Lockhart’s entire publications spanned most of the list. James teased Albus about that, since James didn’t have to get any of Lockhart’s books. Gilderoy Lockhart, an old teacher of dad’s, used to be a handsome man, but he was also a fraud and lied frequently throughout his published material.

“Well, obviously our new Defense Against the Dark Arts hates you, since he wanted you to get Lockhart’s books, but not me,” James had said once their booklists came through the mail yesterday during breakfast. “I wonder what this new teacher is like.” Professor Fuchs, their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the previous year, had left to try and educate young witches and wizards in Africa. Albus didn’t want anyone to replace Professor Fuchs, who had been one of his favorite professors.

“We had quite a bit of trouble finding a person to take the position,” his dad had replied to James’s remark. “There was all the worry of being another curse on the position. Rubbish, really. Fuchs had been in the position since the war ended. But the fear caught aflame, and then we had lots of trouble getting a teacher.”

“Can you tell us who it is?” Albus had begged.

“No,” his dad had said. “But I think you’ll find him very interesting.”

So now Albus had to dwell in the mystery of why second years had to get Lockhart’s books but not third years, and what made the teacher “interesting”. He just received the letter yesterday, so no theories had come into his mind yet.

Albus sat up straight in his bed as he remembered their plans for today. Art was coming to his house! And they were going to the Quidditch World Cup together! All sleepiness forgotten, Albus thrust himself out of his bed to his closet, and began putting clothes on. A few minutes later, Albus hurried down the stairs and slipped himself into a seat.

Once all five of them were downstairs, Albus began shoveling food inside his mouth eagerly. Toast, eggs, bacon… he ate it all and then listened to the conversation.

“James, do you have everything packed?” Mum was saying.

“Yes, why don’t you believe me?” James said, groaning.

“You’re just known for being a bit unreliable on your word. What about you Albus, Lily?” They both nodded.

Once all the bags were downstairs, Albus sat on the lounge chair, restless, as he waited for Art. He thought of the brilliant, legendary city in which the world cup would be held…


“That must be Art!” Albus shouted, upon hearing the doorbell.

“We have a doorbell?” James said, poking his head out of the door of his bedroom. Al didn’t know they had one either, since nobody ever came to their front door. They usually used the floo network to get everywhere, so the front door was rarely ever used.

Mum got to the door first, and greeted Art. A tall, balding muscular man was with him, and Albus assumed that was Art’s dad. They had the same brown, wind-swept hair that brushed their eyes. Both of them were extremely tan as well. Albus stood awkwardly by the door, as mum and Art’s dad discussed arrangements and things. Finally, the man embraced Art for a few moments and then left.

"Hello Art!" Albus said at last, giving his friend a big hug.

"Hey! Can't wait to see this Quidditch World Cup. You seem hyped about it."

"I've been to each one since I was born," Albus said happily. "There was one when I was only seven months old, and I even went to that one! I don't remember it though."

"David would probably love it," Art said.

"I'm sure he would, but David never responded to my letter inviting him," Al said sadly.

"I wonder why," Art said thoughtfully. "Anyway, where's the world cup?"

"Atlantis," Albus replied. Art started.

"But that's like- a legend," Art said, clearly baffled.

“What- you’ve heard of it? You were raised by muggles, and it’s a wizard-only island!” Albus said.

“Well, it’s a big legend among muggles. Like, it used to be this big place, and then it disappeared. Some people think it’s real, and others think it isn’t.”

“It better be real, because that’s where the world cup is this year,” Albus said, grinning.

“Art- Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing- back in the times of the Ancient Greeks, Atlantis was an actual place,” Albus’s dad explained. “It was a bustling city, and muggles knew about it. But it was mostly wizards who lived there, and then they ended up cutting themselves off, and making their island unplottable and whatnot, and placed muggle-repelling charms around the place, much like Azkaban. So the muggles never found the island again, and it became a legend to them.”

“How’d you know that?” Albus asked. His dad wasn’t the type of person to spew out facts.

“I asked Aunt Hermione about Atlantis, since I had also thought of it as a legend,” Dad said, chuckling. “Being an island entirely made up of wizards, it also makes it an ideal place to host the Quidditch World Cup, since you don’t have to worry about muggles.”

“Wow. It’s so cool that I’ll actually visit the legendary Atlantis!” Art said. “Does it look all Greek and things?”

“I think it looks pretty normal. It was thousands of years ago when the Greeks were around.”

“Oh,” Art said, sounding disappointed.

“I’m pretty sure the native language is Greek, though. Anyhow, we should get ready to go,” Dad said. “We’re taking the floo network to the Burrow, and then from their we’ll go to the Portkey.”

“James, are you coming?” Mum shouted up the stairs.

“Yeah! Just a moment! I can’t find my Germany flag!”

“Wait, what two teams are playing?” Art asked.

“Germany and Portugal,” Albus replied.

“Mum, can we go tour Atlantis and stuff while we’re there?” Lily said. “I heard it’s a really cool city. And apparently it’s beautiful. I’ve seen some pictures. There’s waterfalls, and nothing has to be hidden from muggles so there’s magic all over the place…”

“Yes, we can,” Mum said.

“Correction: you two can,” James said as he came down the stairs. “I don’t plan on sunshine walks. I’m here for Quidditch.”

“We know. There will be stuff for everyone,” Mum said. “Everybody got their things? Harry, you got the tent?”

“Yes mum,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. Al’s mum smacked his arm.

“Then let’s go!” She said. Mum went over to the fireplace, and threw some floo powder into the air.

“Wait- what’s that?” Art said uncertainly. Albus gave a brief, thirty-second explanation about floo powder to Art.

"Well, here goes nothing, I suppose," Art said, prior to throwing floo powder in the air and shouting, "The Burrow!"

Albus went next, and stumbled out of the fireplace at the burrow. He saw all of his relatives and cousins gathered, carrying bags, tents, and Portuguese and German spirit wear.

Once everyone was there (which was about thirty people) they all walked out of the house, to go to the portkey. Luckily, with much effort from the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry, portkeys could now go internationally. However, that didn’t mean “more” portkeys, so the entire Weasley-Potter family had to walk for a few miles among deserted hills until Uncle Bill finally shouted "It’s here!”. They gathered around a long metal pole stretched on the grass.

"So we all touch it and it transports us to Atlantis?" Art asked.

"Yup," Uncle Bill said. “But not yet. We're still waiting for the Scamanders."

"They're coming this year?" Albus asked eagerly.

"Yeah, Lorcan and Lysander really wanted to come," Uncle Bill said.

Ten minutes later, the Scamanders finally arrived. Luna was carrying an intricately designed walking stick decorated with what seemed to be peacock feathers. Albus gave a small friendly wave to Lorcan and Lysander, whose faces were motionless and blank. Al sighed. The two seven-year-old boys were always like that.

All of them gathered closely around the metal pole. Luckily they all had enough room to touch it comfortably.

"Three... two... one," Uncle Bill said, and Albus felt his leg muscles give an involuntary spasm before he hurtled off. Albus landed it a blue-tinged room. A middle-aged, bald man with a jet-black mustache greeted them, and started speaking what seemed to be Greek.

“English,” Albus’s dad said, and the Greek man pointed a wand to his throat.

“My apologies,” the man said in perfect English. “There’s people from all over the world coming through this room. Wow, there’s a lot of you. What family are you? I have a list here.”

“Weasley,” Aunt Angelina said, stepping forward.

“You have a big lot. Right, so you have 323A, B, C, D, and E. Go outside, and follow the signs.”

“Thank you,” Aunt Angelina said gracefully. They all walked out of the door, and Albus had blinked in the bright sun. As he squinted and his eyes adjusted, his mind was overwhelmed by the shining glass on the side of buildings. Skyscrapers licked the sky, and the bright blue above shone on all of them. Atlantean flags and banners, and various streamers decorating all the buildings, making it look festive and welcoming. They wandered the cobbled streets, following large signs that said (they actually spoke) things like ‘Lots 0-100, this way’. They walked several blocks, until they found a sign that said ‘Lots 300-400, to the left’. When they turned, Albus found that the city atmosphere disappeared to form a huge pasture, with the Quidditch stadium looming in the background.

“Right, here’s our spot,” Al’s dad said after they walked about halfway across the pasture. They had a large amount of space, to hold their multiple tents. Albus had a tent with his parents, James, Lily, and Art. James’s friend John had a separate tent many “blocks” away. The rest of the Weasley family had other few tents a short distance away.

“Wow, this place is huge!” Art said, staring at the two-floored, lavish inside of the tent.

“It’s kind of cramped, actually,” James said. “And there’s like, no privacy, only weird curtains that I bet you could see our shadows through.”

“Big improvement over muggle tents. In those it’s only like room to sleep and that’s about it,” Art said.

“That must be awful,” James said, sounding disgusted. “C’mon guys, let’s go explore! I want to find John’s tent.”

“We’ll come with,” Albus said cheerfully. James, Albus, and Art stepped towards the entrance, but Ginny stopped them.

“If the three of you are going out, then you all have to stick together,” Ginny said. “I want to see none of you wandering off, is that clear? There’s a lot of foreigners around here, and I don’t want you getting in any trouble.”

“Yes,” James said. They left together, and looked around at all the surrounding tents. Albus spotted Fred and Louis wandering around as well, and Fred seemed to have an eye on several Greek-looking girls. Louis chastised Fred.

“You don’t have a chance. You don’t even speak the same language, Fred,” Louis was saying.

“Don’t be a- what’s the phrase? Deedie downer? Decker downer? Whatever the muggle phrase is, don’t be that,” Fred said, grumbling.

When they left their lot, Albus saw so many flags he knew he would never forget the black-red-yellow color scheme on the German flags or the unusual emblem on the Portuguese flags. There were also many displays of the seekers of both teams- both handsome, young men who Albus was sure girls fawned over. Albus felt a bit uneasy walking among so many foreigners. He didn’t hear many English speakers, and those who were spoke with a distinct American accent.

“Hey, there’s John’s tent! He gave me a description of what it looked like,” James said happily. He walked over their tent, while Albus and Art lingered around outside.

"So Rose didn't come?" Art asked.

"Nope. Aunt Hermione, Molly, Lucy, Rose, and Aunt Audrey are visiting Atlantis because apparently it's very historical, but they are going nowhere near all the Quidditch things," Albus explained.

"I'm not huge on Quidditch myself, but you can't miss the World Cup," Art said.

Albus nodded and continued looking around. Hardly any of the tents genuinely looked like tents. Many of them were patterned in various colors, or made of brick and not fabric. One of the tents had a waterfall over the entrance. It looked beautiful.

James was still inside John’s tent, so Albus and Art walked inside with hopes of prying James away. The tent was two floors high, but most of the Shafiq family was gathered around in what seemed to be a living room. James and John were talking near the fireplace. Albus and Art introduced themselves to the Shafiq’s and sat down next to someone who Albus presumed was John’s grandfather.

“You’re a Potter?” John’s grandfather asked, after they had sat down in a couch for a few minutes.

“What? Oh, yes, I am,” Albus said, a little startled.

“Nice family. Never met Lily or James, but I heard about them a few times.”

“Wait- so you were alive when they were?” Albus asked.

“Goodness, yes. First Wizarding War. Voldemort rising to power. Not fun.”

“What did you hear about them?” Albus said. He never really knew what his grandparents were like, since they died when dad was a baby. He heard what his dad had accumulated, of course, but he didn’t hear much about anyone who was actually alive during that time.

“Well, my friends, the McKinnons, knew about them. They were in the Order together. Phil and Marlene McKinnon weren’t close friends with the Potters, but they were comrades. Phil mentioned the family from time to time. Apparently they were extremely skilled, even though they were so young.”

“If I remember correctly- didn’t the McKinnons die?” Albus asked. He had heard Grandma Weasley mention the families who died fighting against Voldemort when he was younger, and the name sounded familiar.

“Yes, Marlene and Phil McKinnon died in July of 1981. It’s presumed that their baby died as well.”

“What do you mean, ‘presumed’?” Albus asked.

“They never found the body of Marlene and Phil’s son. It’s presumed that their son died in the attack, since he was never seen again. He was probably left mangled in the rubble. Some people say Fabian Prewett saved the boy. But the Prewetts died a few weeks later, so if they did save the McKinnon’s son and they sent him off somewhere, we’ll probably never know.”

“How old was their son?”

“Under a year old at the time. Born in January of 1981. Around the same age as your parents, so that will make him in his late thirties. Assuming he’s alive, of course. Nobody really thinks he is, they just didn’t find the body so of course there had to be speculation.”

“Interesting,” Albus said. He liked hearing war stories, and even better, mysteries. “Do you have any stories about yourself from the war?”

“Me? Goodness no. The Shafiq family is famous for keeping their heads out of every war. We’ve been Hufflepuffs for many generations. John’s the first Gryffindor in the family. I hope he doesn’t get caught up in anything dangerous.”

“Well, thanks for telling me all of this,” Albus said.

“Oh, I always enjoy an interested lad. Nobody in this family seems to enjoy stories. It’s a shame. Seeming how my grandson is best friends with your brother, I suppose we’ll see each other around sometime.”

The rest of the day was mostly spent wandering around and exploring. Albus joined in a few little Quidditch games with a bunch of foreign kids around his age (Which Al was sure mum would not approve of). He played a few games as chaser, and as the sun set Albus, Art, and James waved goodbye and headed back towards the tent.

“You two are okay? Thank goodness. It’s easy to get lost in this place,” Mum said once they got back. The all gathered around the dinner table, eating some food. Dad had wanted for them to try Atlantean food, which was basically seafood. Atlantis was an interesting place, Albus decided. They were a completely magical island, but they did things like eating seafood, which wasn’t even necessary since all wizards could just create any type of food they wanted. It was a magical place acting muggle-like. Interesting.

When Albus awoke the next day, he leapt out of bed the moment he saw the sun. Today was the day! Today was the Quidditch World Cup final! It would never cease to excite him. This only happened every four years.

Once they were all decked out in their robes, the Potter family and Art headed to their seats in the Top Box. Albus loved it. There were so many famous and important people sitting up there. Of course, Albus supposed “Harry Potter” was famous and important as well, but seeming how he saw dad every day that wasn’t very exciting.

The stands around the Quidditch pitch were blue, and large tridents stuck out at the ends of each row. The entire place had a sort of underwater-y, ocean-y feel, as though the game was actually taking place underwater instead of in the air. He had never seen a Quidditch pitch like this before.

The commentator began announcing the mascots of each team. “Let us welcome the German mascots- Granian horses! They are winged horses, grey, you should see them coming onto the field now- and Merlin, are they fast! Look at them fly around the pitch- why, the horses could be a replacement for broomsticks. No doubt their speed and agility does its best to represent the strengths of the German team- which is, of course, speed and agility.” Albus watched the horses fly all around the pitch. They were majestic and graceful. If they were human, Albus would have said that they looked a bit arrogant. “And the horses are lowering back to the ground at the sound of the whistle from their caretaker- and now, it looks as though Portugal is bringing up their mascot- a manticore! It has the head of a man, the body of a lion, and tail of a scorpion. They are extremely dangerous creatures.” Albus’s mouth fell open as the manticore walked onto the center of the pitch. About twenty wizards were surrounding the manticore, holding its legs with chains. Its face was human- but a human gone wild. Albus picked up his omnioculars and zoomed in on the manticore’s face. It wasn’t wise and intelligent like a centaur. Its eyes were savage and beast-like, and at an animal’s level of intelligence. Albus turned his omnioculars away. It was frightening to see a human face look like that.

When the game finally began, Albus stared in awe at the players darting all over the field. They were a whirlwind of color. Thousands of people lifted their omnioculars, but Albus didn’t raise his back up. He preferred to watch the action at this speed. This was real Quidditch. Hogwarts’s Quidditch was like child’s play compared to this. At this speed, Albus couldn’t tell who had the quaffle, the passes, or anything. He kept his eye on the score, and looked back and forth between the players.

Albus glanced over to Art, who was staring at the players in wonder. Art’s mouth was hanging open. Albus was used to the Quidditch World Cup, since he’d been to everyone since he was born and a few games in between, but Art had never been to a professional Quidditch match. He must be in even more in awe than Al.

The score grew steadily higher as the first few hours passed. 30-10 Portugal... 50-20 Portugal... 50-50 Germany…

“Heidrich and Kneller pass the quaffle around, safely keeping it away from the Portuguese seeker- it seems Germany is trying to turn the game around. They didn’t get off to a good start, but Germany seems to be on a roll now…”

“Mrs. Potter?” Art asked about halfway through the game. Albus curiously tore his eyes away from the match, even though following each player was quite an addicting practice.

“Er, the man who is commentating- well, he’s saying things, but his mouth doesn’t form the same words he’s saying or anything. It doesn’t make sense.”

“He’s speaking a language other than English,” Al’s mum explained. “He’s an Atlantean native I believe, so he’s probably speaking Greek. He’s speaking into a microphone, that to Germans, for example, will sound German, and to us sounds English. The microphone translates what he is saying into every single language and I think our brain picks up on what language we are familiar with- not sure exactly how it works. Hermione would know. The translating microphone is extremely expensive, but this is the Quidditch World Cup, so they can get money.”

“That makes sense,” Art said. “What if someone is bilingual?”

“Bi- what?” Albus asked.

“If you can speak two languages,” Art said.

“I suppose it will translate itself into whatever language you are most comfortable with, or your native language,” Albus’s mum, said shrugging. Albus turned his head back to the game. It was nice to have her watching with them this year, he had to admit. Last World Cup, she was doing things for work, since she was a Quidditch writer. But this year she was sitting with the rest of them.

When the score got to 240-190 Germany, the Portuguese seeker hurtled towards the ground, and the German seeker followed. Only a few seconds later the German seeker rose up with the snitch curled around his fingers, his fist pumped into the air. A tremendous amount of cheers lifted all around the stadium. “That’s the game, folks! Germany had the snitch, so the score is now 390-190 Germany. That’s quite a turnaround from the beginning of the match, when Portugal was in the lead! Germany wins the 2018 Quidditch World Cup!”

Al's ears started to hurt because of the cheering. Despite this, Albus smiled as German flags were waved all across the stands. The beautiful Granian horses soared across the pitch in celebration. A passing peddler selling German flags was crying in celebration.

“Here’s two sickles…” Albus said, and twenty seconds later he was waving a German flag as well. He had been mostly neutral during the match, but amidst all the celebration he could not be happy. As the stands began to clear out, Albus walked out with a grin plastered on his face, flag held high.

Wow, this chapter was long- by my standards, anyway.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! This chapter was actually a last-minute thing, since I originally wasn't planning on writing about the Quidditch World Cup.

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