Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by authors_sort

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 carefully.
    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 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 some time 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 grey hair was almost unnaturally straight and his narrow toothbrush moustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide-rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Harry could see at once why Percy idolised 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 as a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.
    ‘Pull up a bit of grass, Barty,’ 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 half bow which 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.’
    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