Wednesday, July 16th, 7:30 AM

  42 East Lane, West Horsly, Guildford District, Surrey County, UK

  James was finishing his second plate of breakfast, and was speculating on whether or not he really wanted a third. He was thinking about asking what was on for the noon-time meal, when Dudley bustled into the room.

  'No time for breakfast, love!" he said as his wife handed him a paper bag.

  "Two bacon butties and a small fry-up in tinfoil," Emily said calmly. Dudley grinned as she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

  "And," she finished, "...a few pigs in blankets to distract George, while you finish your food."

  "Thinks of everything!" Dudley bragged to James and Iris. "And speaking of your Uncle George, James, he sent you some back issues of the Daily Prophet. They're on the entryway table. He thought you might have lost track of the World Cup, since you're wasting away here in Muggleville."

  He laughed at what he seemed to think was a hilarious joke. Emily smiled, and the children gave each other blank looks.

  Dudley went on, "Sorry I didn't get them to you last night, but the advertising meeting for the roll-out ran long. Still haven't come up with a good, marketable name for the Magic-Proof TV."

  "WizardVision," James said without thinking.

  "Three-Point-Oh," added Iris.

  Dudley stopped in his tracks, looked at the children, then looked at his wife. She shrugged, and gave him a smile, a shrug, and a nod.

  "Wizard Vison," he said thoughtfully.

  "One word," said James. "But still with a Capital 'V' in the middle."

  "Ah! WizardVision!" Dudley looked at Iris. "Why Three-Point-Oh?"

  "It implies that you've worked all the bugs out in the first two versions." Under her breath, she added, "Duh."

  "Geniuses," Dudley said emphatically. "I'm raising geniuses. Or, at least, I'm hosting geniuses. Which reminds me, my Brainstorming Committee, the Dribble Cup worked a treat!"

  "Thought it would," James said placidly. "Worked a treat on me, didn't it Irie?"

  She giggled.

  "George spent hours, hours, I'm telling you, trying to reverse engineer the magic!" Dudley was patting various pockets with his free hand. "Wallet. Watch. Driving glasses. Driving glasses?"

  "Forehead," Emily said, reaching up to pull them down on his nose. She collected another quick kiss. Dudley smiled wider.

  "AND, I'm OFF!" he proclaimed dramatically.

  "Only a little," said James.

  "And it doesn't really show," added Iris.

  ***

  All thoughts of food were, at least temporarily, banished from James' head. He brought the small, paper-wrapped bundle into the kitchen, tore it open, and spread out the papers on the table. The headline on the top one took his breath away.

  "Krum is covering the Cup for the Prophet?" he said in awe. "How cool is that?"

  "Pretty cool," said Iris. Over the past five years, she had received a fairly comprehensive Quidditch education from James. The past week-and-a-half graduate course in World Cup Quidditch had her thoroughly up to speed.

  James ignored the article about the Bulgarian Coach, turning directly to the Sports Section.

  "Is that him?" Iris asked. "He looks really grumpy."

  "Who cares about grumpy?" James chuckled. "If Bulgaria go all the way, this will be the third time he's played in a Cup Final. I'm pretty sure that's a record for a Seeker."

  Emily had walked up behind them. Peeking over their shoulders, "Well, he does look a little intense. But, all in all, that's a fine figure of a man. No wonder your Aunt Hermione went to the Yule Ball with him."

  Eyes wide, Iris burst out with a scandalized, "Mum!"

  James was gaping for a completely different reason.

  "Aunt Hermione... dated... Viktor Krum?" he asked weakly.

  "Yes," said Emily, eyes sparkling.

  "My Aunt Hermione?" asked James. "The one with all the..." James made spastic little motions that were probably meant to indicate high-quality spell-casting, serious bureaucratic leanings, and an unhealthy obsession with healthy food.

  Emily laughed out loud. "Yes, James. That Hermione. The only Hermione either of us know." She took pity on him. "You probably never heard because your Uncle Ron doesn't like being reminded of it."

  That tripped James' family loyalty switches. "Well, of course not," he said stoutly. "Who would?" He paused. "But..., Krum! I wonder if Mum could get me an autograph?"

  "Oh, I would say that is the very least you could expect. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you even got to meet him." She gave Krum's muscular chest one last long look. "Not a patch on your Da, mind you, Iris. Still, a fine looking man."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Iris, pink and speechless, watched her mother walk away. James, lost in thoughts of actually meeting Krum, finally shook himself free, and went back to the papers.

  He and Iris had a good morning going through the Prophets. The combination of his mother's articles and Krum's commentary kept both children entertained and on the edge of their seats. The next-to-the last paper, the Sunday issue, had James all agog all over again.

  "Uncle Ron went to a Cup Game with Krum?" he blurted out.

  Iris was scanning the page-width crowd shot facing the article. "So many people," she said, half impressed, half complaining.

  "Lemme see," James said, putting his nose right up to the picture. Very loudly and clearly, he said, "Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

  From their perspective, the view panned around to the opposite side of the stadium, then zoomed in until it was focused on one of the small private enclosures below the Top Box.

  "Well, there's Uncle Ron..." James said doubtfully.

  "And that's your Uncle George!" Iris interrupted, excited.

  "...but I don't see Krum anywhere," finished James.

  Emily was sitting at the other end of the table, knitting on something they couldn't see, down in her lap. The tops of the two over-sized wooden needles were flickering in and out of view over the tabletop, moving almost too fast to see. Quietly she said, to no one in particular, "That'll do for now."

  She laid her over-sized bag on the table, with the needles shoved back down into a skein of yarn. Getting up, she came over to see what the children were looking at.

  After the first glance, she said, "Oh. That's not your Uncle George. It's probably Mr. Krum in disguise."

  James looked down at the picture, up at Emily, then back down at the picture.

  "Mum, how can you tell?" demanded Iris.

  Emily shrugged. "Body language. It's fairly easy with these moving pictures. And knowing Yoga helps. See how stiffly 'George' is sitting? He never sits so upright."

  Iris giggled again. "Especially since Dad got him that high-end recliner!"

  "True, that," Emily smiled at her daughter. "And look at that expression. Have you ever seen your uncle George look that serious and disapproving, James?"

  "Well," James hesitated. "Just once. Saturday before last."

  "Oh, yeah," Iris almost whispered the words. "When he came by to check on that dishwasher that had been abused."

  Emily winced. "Oooh, yes. Yes, that would make sense."

  James looked thoughtful. "Erik at D&W said 'them tossers were due some payback,' or something like that."

  Emily looked stern. "Indeed. I wouldn't care to be in that bas..., (she coughed), ...that Basenji owner's shoes."

  Iris gave her mother a curious look. "How do you know what breed of dog he has?"

  ***

  James and Iris were side by side, reading the last paper, the one from Tuesday, July 15th. Had they known it, they were basically in the same positions that Harry and Ginny had been on Sunday morning.

  KRUM ON THE CUP!!

  POST-GAME - LOOKING BACK

  United States 240 - Jamaica 230. UNDER INVESTIGATION

  Finally, a game (tentatively) decided by the play on the pitch, not the rude incompetence of a player. I am writing this in the firm belief that the US Team will be found innocent of Performing or Soliciting Malicious Spellcasting.

  I do not aver this out of any jingoistic belief that Americans are above such things. My surety comes from making the acquaintance of this year's US Mascot, Dire Wolf Pack Leader Matriarch Khaleesi, and spending time with the top Magizoologists in the world, Rolf and Luna Lovegood-Scamander. Since the Dire Wolf has been brought back from extinction, many new and fascinating facts have been discovered, and many old horror stories have been debunked. The behavior I am currently referring to is the total authority a Matriarch has over her pack. If a Dire Wolf Matriarch accepts your presence, then you are a member of her pack. And pack members are open books to the likes of Khaleesi. One can not lie, dissemble, or cheat in her presence. One of the US substitutes engaged in an extra-marital liaison, and had to be Portkeyed out for his own protection. I am given to understand he should never again come within range of Khaleesi's senses. Never, never, never.

  The Lovegood-Scamanders were my guests at this game, and, like me, believed that Jamaica were the clear favorites. Smackhammer's capture of the Snitch came at the last possible moment where a simple capture could win the game. One or two more Jamaican goals would have given the US the unpalatable choices of tying, losing the game even with a capture, or, worst of all, shutting down Jamaica's offense while they made up points. Jamaica's Keeper, Kquewanda Bailey, fell ill almost simultaneously with the capture of the Snitch.

  LATE-BREAKING UPDATE: Keeper Bailey has been diagnosed with a severe reaction to a Sasabonsam bite, which was received during the Parade of Mascots debacle. This, and other further investigation, has absolved the Americans, who were declared winners.

  The United States will face the winners of the Liechtenstein versus Chad match.

  PRE-GAME - LOOKING FORWARD.

  Liechtenstein versus Chad - 16 July 2014

  This may be the hardest match to predict in this tournament. Not just so far, but taking the field as a whole. Keeper to Keeper, Beater to Beater, Chaser to Chaser, and above all, Bruunhart to Miskine. There is no give, no slack, no, what is it in English? No wiggle room. At. All.

  Our Bulgarian Team Coach, Lev Zograf, has been regarding this game with both anticipation and trepidation. He feels both contenders are living examples of his 'Team as Gestalt' philosophy, which thrills him as much as any former mountain bandit can be thrilled. What does not excite him is the prospect of our Bulgarian team facing either, as we advance through the tournament. Frankly, we would rather face Wales.

  I can not, and will not, predict a winner in this match.

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

  "Wow," Iris said softly. "He makes it all come alive, doesn't he?"

  "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, Mom's articles are top-notch, and I love them." James shook his head. "But Krum..."

  "I would love to meet Khaleesi," Iris said wistfully, looking back at the Sunday spread of photos from the Brazil/ Haiti game. Khaleesi was pictured with the Curupiru tribe, seated as they climbed over her like a giant jungle gym. One little boychild was sliding as he frantically tried to climb up her lolling tongue.

  James grinned at her. "I can't do anything about that, but our friend Hagrid has one of her pups by his old Boar Mastiff. Direfang's almost that big, and he's real friendly. You'll meet them, one of these days."

  Iris hugged herself, and gave a little squee! Then she hugged James. He tolerated it a little longer than most 'tweens would, then poked her in the ribs to get her to turn loose.

  When Emily entered the kitchen, she found them in the give-and-take of a tickle fight. They stopped when they noticed she was dressed for going out, even wearing her straw hat.

  "Where?" Iris said excitedly.

  "Weelll..." her mother dragged out the word teasingly. "I thought we would see if James could sneak us into Diagon Alley. What do you think, James?"

  He puffed up a little at Iris' awed expression, then deflated a little. His grin remained broad, though.

  "Maybe. But even if I can't, Aunt Hannah or Uncle Neville will let us through."

  He puffed back up. "ANNND..."

  ",,,we're OFF!" Iris shouted.

  Emily tsked. "Not without your bucket hats, you're not. Now, scoot!"

  https://colossal.com/the-return-of-the-dire-wolf/