The stadium roared like a living beast, a sea of green and gold colliding with crimson and black as Ireland and Bulgaria clashed high in the sky. You had barely settled into your seat when you realized just how small the bench was—or maybe it was just the fact that you were wedged between Fred Weasley and Cedric.

Fred had been teasing you all morning, nudging your shoulder every time you tried to focus on the pre-game commentary. But then Cedric leaned over with that trademark Hufflepuff grin and said, “Hope you’re cheering for Ireland. Wouldn’t want to be on the losing side, right?”

His arm brushed yours as he leaned closer, and you felt Fred stiffen on your other side.

“Oi, mate,” Fred said loudly, nearly making you spill your butterbeer. “She’s already got a seat partner. You’re leaning a bit too close, Diggory. What is this, Quidditch or a blooming date?”

Cedric only grinned, clearly entertained by Fred’s sudden flare of temper. “Relax, Weasley. I was only saying hello.”

Fred crossed his arms, muttering something under his breath about “pretty-boy Hufflepuffs” while you tried not to laugh. The game started, and for a while, the excitement distracted everyone. But by the time Ireland scored their third goal, Cedric leaned over again, voice loud over the roaring crowd.

“Say, after this match, how about we all head to the campsite? Maybe I can show you—”

He didn’t get to finish. Fred, looking like he was about to combust, cut in. “Yeah, brilliant idea, Diggory. Why don’t you go find your Hufflepuff pals and leave the lady alone, eh?”