Friday, July 11th, 2014. 5:20 PM.

  Grimmauld Place, Borough of Islington, London, UK

  Ginny was closest to the steps up to the hallway when the gentle chime of the doorbell sounded. She smiled as she started up to answer the door. The old bell had been a clanging monstrosity. In her opinion, it had been one of the causes of Mother Black's 'episodes.' She Cast the opening spell, to find Hermione on the top step. She looked a trifle frazzled, but was bearing it well.

  "Welcome, welcome...," said Ginny, "...to Pottervania, home of The British House Elf Museum And Historical Society!"

  Hermione smiled. "Sounds like a busy place. How would you like to be even busier?"

  Ginny smiled cynically. "What has my beloved husband been up to now? If this is about the celebrity owl that's moved in, I'm aware. My progeny and yours are on the roof right now, helping him get settled in."

  Hermione looked blank. "No. The only new owl I've met recently is Nienna's Ath?na, and she's a her." Hermione grimaced. "She's a female."

  "Well, girl, someone is a little flustered. What's up?"

  Hermione's lips tightened into a thin line as she pulled herself together. "I need, we need to talk to Kreacher. Harry wants to squeeze some refugees into your house, and one of them might be problematic."

  Ginny looked down the steps into the kitchen. "Umm, yeah. Not the best time. Kreacher is a little flustered himself. First time I've ever seen him this way."

  "Needs must," Hermione said firmly. "It will be worse if we don't, I guarantee."

  Ginny rolled her eyes, but led the way into the kitchen.

  Hermione saw immediately what Ginny was talking about. Kreacher was in a whirl of motion, chopping vegetables, directing Pixies stirring pots, listening as Chieftain Tom read haltingly from a proof sheet held up by the Berts, Herbert and Bertram, and finally instructing other Pixies in cleaning the kitchen.

  Ginny cleared her throat loudly. "Ahem! Shop Foreman calls a break!" Everyone froze, except the Pixies stirring pots. Kreacher carefully laid his chopping knife on the counter, before turning to give Ginny a somewhat exasperated look.

  He said, "Miss Ginny?" His tone somehow implied that, if he wasn't such a competent, even-tempered House Elf, he would be tearing at his non-existent hair.

  Hermione stepped right in. "Kreacher, I do apologise for interrupting you. I assure you I would not do it without good reason. This is official Department of Magical Law Enforcement business."

  Kreacher's irritation vanished instantly. He almost seemed to come to attention. "Yah-Dah?" he asked.

  "Yah-Dah," Hermione confirmed. "The family of an Associate Auror is in danger from the Unknowns, and needs a secure place to stay. Head Auror Potter sent me to see if 12 Grimmauld Place could shelter them."

  Kreacher cast an almost despairing glance around the kitchen full of hovering Pixies, half-finished meal preparations, and piles of papers. His voice quavered as he asked, "How... many?"

  "A woman, a boy...," Hermione hesitated. "...and a House Elf."

  Over the kitchen table, Missy Typewright clapped her lilac-coloured hands over her mouth and forgot to keep flying. She landed bum-first, partially on a stack of paper, flipped backwards and disappeared behind it. A moment later, her gamin little face peeked back up over the edge, tiny flat cap askew on her lilac curls.

  "A House Elf?" Kreacher's tone was flat.

  "Yes," Hermione said, "But..."

  Kreacher interrupted. "In Kreacher's home?"

  "Yes," Hermione repeated. "But..."

  "Can House Elf cook?" Kreacher demanded.

  Hermione was taken aback. "Why... why, yes," Hermione stammered. "She is actually a very good co..."

  "Will House Elf cook?" Kreacher fixed Hermione with a gimlet stare.

  Hermione looked wide-eyed at Ginny, who looked just as dumbfounded as her.

  "Ah, yes? She asked me to assure you that she understood that she would be a guest in your home, but she would be pleased to help..."

  Kreacher flopped down heavily onto the seat of the stool he had been standing atop.

  "When can Elf get here?" he asked tiredly.

  ***

  Sunday, July 13th, 2014. 7:15 AM.

  Grimmauld Place, Borough of Islington, London, UK

  Ginny and Harry were seated side-by-side at the kitchen table, sharing the Sports section of the Sunday Daily Prophet, reading, of course, Viktor's column.

  The header picture now showed him sitting in the throne-like wing-back chair, wearing his Quidditch robes. The robes were open down the front, still showing Krum's muscle shirt and leggings. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair a little too firmly, fingers indenting the padding slightly. Leaning forward just a bit, his eyes glared out from over his beak of a nose, and from under his craggy forehead. He looked as if he was sitting in judgement.

  KRUM ON THE CUP!!

  POST-GAME - LOOKING BACK

  Brazil 100 - Haiti - DISQUALIFIED (Illegal Capture of Snitch) 90

  Only three games into the World Cup finals, and two of those games have been decided, not by the strength of the teams, but by the incompetence of a single player. I, Krum, am tempted to put together a team of these nekompetenten choveki. Joseph Snuka shall be the Seeker, of course, and they have found their first Beater in the person of Jean-Baptiste Bloncourt.

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  He began by injuring his own Keeper, Lenelle Paraison, who still persevered brilliantly on defense, holding the Brazilian Chasers to less than one in three successful scoring attempts. On offense, Haitian Chaser Clairvius Hyppolite was effective in making his presence felt. I truly felt the 'long bloody slog' mentioned in my Pre-Game article was at hand.

  I also mentioned, however, the possibility of 'misfortune.' Not content with breaking the nose of his own Keeper, Jean-Baptiste Bloncourt followed up by rendering Seeker Sylvian Jolicoeur completely unconscious, just as the Snitch was within his grasp. Bloncourt's clumsy recovery from his mis-hit Bludger allowed the Snitch to get caught in the sleeve of his robes, thereby disqualifying Haiti at once.

  I mentioned to my good friend, Ronald Weasley, (who graciously agreed to accompany me to this game as adjunct and assistant), that I supposed this was some sort of Quidditch record, with a player almost taking out two of his own teammates. He informed me that the all-time record was, in fact, held by Chudley Cannons Beater, Joey Jenkins, who succeeded, (if that is the word I want), in taking out five of his fellow players. That included three substitutes, but does not count him breaking the coach's leg, or concussing himself.

  Brazil will face the winner of the Wales versus Germany match.

  ADDENDUM: I would be remiss if I did not mention how much I enjoyed the Presentation of the Mascots before the game, even though it was possibly in slightly poor taste. Not the Brazilian Curupira, they were absolutely charming little folk. I can attest to their tender hearts and loving familial relationships.

  The poor taste came from the Haitian Committee, (not the team). Their ill-advised 'mascots' rampaged through the Parade of the Mascots, causing not just injuries, but death. Despite the Inferii being totally destroyed at that time, Augustin Legba, Chief Oungan of the Haitian Delegation, brazenly brought forth more of the Dark Creatures at the game itself.

  He led them out through a triple cordon of security wizards, sneering at the outrage of the crowd, and the horror of his national team. Brazil's mascots looked ready to panic, but they were joined by the American mascot, who came leaping down from the American Delegation's Box. The Dire Wolf, Khaleesi, was swarmed by the Curupira in obvious displays of affection.

  The Chief Oungan, on the other hand, did not look pleased to see the Dire Wolf. As he approached the center of the pitch, he began to remonstrate with the only official present, who was looking the other way.

  To his surprise, and no doubt great pleasure, that official turned out to be none other than the Head Auror from his own Ministry, Pierre 'Chasseur' Leclerc.

  M'sieur Leclerc wrapped a companionable arm around the Oungan's shoulders, and took a firm grip of his arm. Leclerc turned the man so he faced back along the line of Inferii he had brought.

  At the word of command, the triple cordon of wizards leveled their wands, and the queue of Inferii lit up like a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Super Conflagration Box, (As Recommended by Co-Owner Ronald Weasley). They sublimated into nothingness, leaving behind not even a bad smell or a scorched blade of grass. The crowd roared its approval at this clever twist in the entertainment, and the game got ready to 'Brooms Up!' in high good spirits. Head Auror Leclerc led Oungan Legba off the pitch to receive his, no doubt, justified rewards.

  PRE-GAME - LOOKING FORWARD.

  United States versus Jamaica - 14 July 2014

  I will be blunt. If the United States has a chance in this matchup, it will come down to US Seeker Darius Smackhammer. His opposite number, Jamaican Shanice Higgins, is a fine international level Seeker, but Smackhammer has a reputation for coming through in a tight spot. The US Chasers have a fine player in Quentin Kowalski, but he is just one man. He will be facing Kquewanda Bailey, whom I rate in the Top Five Keepers currently active. A case could be made for her being in the Top Three.

  I am therefore declaring for Jamaica in this match.

  (Translated from Bulgarian by ProphetLabs Portable Protean Printer, M.P.O. Patent No. JNY867-5309. All Rights Reserved).

  "Well," Harry said. "Ron and Viktor seem to be hitting it off. He was a good choice to keep an eye on Victor at the game. His Quidditch knowledge is really quite complete, aside from the whole Chudley Cannons thing. And your idea of disguising Viktor as George..."

  "Oh, yes," Ginny said smugly. "Now that Viktor has been seen with me. we're going to have to switch things up."

  "I'm going to worry about you," Harry said earnestly. "Don't even try to tell me not to."

  "Harry, dear, being by myself is going to be the best protection I can have. They may try to follow me, bless their hearts for having optimism. But as long as there is no one with me that could be Viktor..., it's just logical."

  "Logic is just a way of going wrong with confidence," Harry said darkly.

  "Yeah, well, what about you? You are going to be right beside Viktor for the next week, even wearing his face sometimes."

  Harry shrugged. "Their first game is coming up next weekend. He has to practice. Since Kingsley decided to cut the Bulgarian Ministry and Committee out, we can't work through them."

  "Too much chance of a traitor," Ginny said, sounding a bit on the dark side herself. "I don't like the thought of you wandering from abandoned pitch to abandoned pitch."

  "I was amazed Kingsley could find that many abandoned pitches," Harry said. "And Portkeys to all of them!"

  "Do you have enough Polyjuice?" Ginny asked.

  Harry grinned. "Despite your depredations, yes. Sergei Dimitrov gave me enough hair samples to keep Viktor and me swapping faces for months."

  "He's the 'B' Team Seeker, right? Krum trusts him to lay low while this is going on?"

  "He's the son of one of Viktor's old teammates. Practically his nephew. And since 'laying low' consists of fairly good accommodations and all expenses at the World Cup... Well, he's willing to dye his hair, wear a false beard, and keep his mouth shut for a few weeks." Harry rotated his head on his neck, grimacing at the crunching sounds. "Not looking forward to pretending to be a twenty-two year old."

  Ginny made a rude noise. "You are not fooling anyone, Harry James Potter. Playing Seeker against Viktor Krum? You're practically salivating, right now!"

  Harry protested, "That's only because I can smell what Cook is dishing up over there! The Seeker thing just means I can keep a better eye on Viktor. When he's in the air, I'm in the air."

  "That does smell wonderful," Ginny said longingly. She called out, "Cook, are you settling in all right?"

  Harry was reminded of the memory where he had first seen... Cook. Two breakfast plates were coming around the end of the table, held in the air by the diminutive elf. It was just how she had carried Hepzibah Smith's 'treasures.'

  As Cook rounded the corner, Ginny gasped in delight. "Oh, Cook, you look beautiful!"

  The House Elf disregarded the greyish-pink rising to her cheeks as she slid the plates into place.

  "Miss Lily told Cook she is to say, 'This Old Thing?' and then sweep away, nose in air. But Cook forgot broom."

  Cook immediately spoiled the snootiness by dropping them a perfect little curtsey. Her full-skirted ankle-length black dress swished about her slippers as she did so. The tiny white apron was fully utilitarian. She even was wearing an old-style mobcap gathered with ribbon. It had two slits for her delicate, fan-shaped ears.

  "That girl!" Ginny said admiringly. "She's been dressing Kreacher for years, I shouldn't have been surprised."

  "Miss Lily took Master Kreacher and Cook shopping. Master Kreacher said, 'Mistress Cook, it is much easier to just go along with Miss Lily. She cares deeply for everyone.'" Cook shivered, hugging herself for a moment. "Cook was out shopping, just like everyone else!"

  Harry was delighted to hear that the House Elves were addressing each other as Master and Mistress. He hoped it would catch on. He wasn't worried about them being out shopping, either. Not with Kreacher along. The only way they could have been safer would be if they were riding on Direfang's back. He did hope they had stuck to Diagon Alley.

  A stray thought surfaced in the stream of Harry's thoughts, as he blew on his first forkful of fried potatoes.

  "Ginny? When did you get a sample from George to disguise Viktor?"