After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

"No news from Persa Jorkins yet, Ludo?" asked Mr. Weasley, as Bagman sat down on the grass beside them.

"Not even a sign of her," Bagman said carelessly. "But don't worry, she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha...her memory is as leaky as a cauldron, and her sense of direction is terrible. She's definitely lost, believe it or not. Someday in October, she'll wander back into the office, thinking it's still July."

"Don't you want to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively, as Percy handed Bagman a cup of tea.

"That's what Barty Crouch keeps saying," said Bagman, his round eyes wide and innocent, "but there's really no one to spare right now. And ah—here he comes! Barty!"

A wizard suddenly materialized beside their campfire, a stark contrast to Ludo Bagman, who was lounging on the grass in his old Wasps robes.

Barty Crouch was a man of about fifty, with an erect back and stiff movements. He wore a spotless, crisp suit and tie, a short moustache that looked as if it had been trimmed with a slide rule, and his shoes were polished to a shine.

Just as Crouch attracted everyone's attention, Lamia quietly walked from the edge of the tent behind to her original position without anyone noticing her.

As soon as Lamia came back, she saw Percy's almost crazy admiration. Percy always advocated strict adherence to discipline, and Mr. Crouch meticulously followed the Muggle dress code. He did it so well that he could have passed off as a bank manager. No wonder Percy admired him so much.

"Sit down and rest for a while, Batti." Ludo said happily, patting the grass beside him.

"No, thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, a hint of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you. The Bulgarians insisted we add twelve more seats to the top box."

"Oh, so that's what they wanted!" Bagman said. "I thought the guy wanted to borrow a pair of tweezers. What a thick accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" Percy gasped with excitement. He leaned forward and made a bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking at Percy with a touch of surprise, "well—thank you, Weatherby."

Fred and George nearly spit their tea out of their cups with laughter. Percy's ears turned pink as he pretended to tend to the teapot.

"By the way, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes resting on Mr. Weasley again. "Ali Bashir has made a provocation. He wants to speak to you about your ban on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley sighed heavily.

"I sent him an owl last week to discuss this very matter. I've told him a hundred times that carpets are classified as Muggle artefacts in the Register of Prohibited Magical Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt he would," said Mr. Crouch, taking the cup of tea which Percy offered him. "He would be impatient to get his flying carpet out here."

"Also, who is that girl?"

Crouch's gaze sharpened, staring directly at Lamia, who stood out even behind the crowd.

"Sir, she is my brother's friend." Percy held up the teapot, as if preparing to add another cup to Crouch.

"Really?" Crouch narrowed his eyes slightly, tapping his fingers on the teacup, but said nothing more.

Percy's smile froze on his face and gradually stiffened. He stepped back awkwardly, looking at Lamia with some disapproval, as if blaming her for not speaking.

Lamia was also looking at Crouch, and their eyes met, like a silent, endless battle.

"Ahem, ahem, but flying carpets will never replace broomsticks in England, will they?" asked Bagman, hoping to lighten the mood by bringing up Crouch's subject.

Crouch gave Bagman a long look.

"Ali saw a niche in the market for family transport," Crouch said. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster pile carpet that could seat twelve people – but that was before flying carpets were banned, of course."

He said this as if to convince everyone that all his ancestors had strictly abided by the law.

"So, keeping yourself busy, Buddy?" Bagman continued.

"Quite busy," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing and arranging Portkeys across five continents is no easy task, Ludo."

"I suppose you're all just anxious for this to be over?" asked Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman was shocked.

"I wish I could! I've never been happier. . . . But there's still hope ahead, isn't there, Barty? Eh? Lots of things to organise, aren't there?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

"We promise not to announce it until all the details are—"

"Oh, details!" said Bagman, waving his hand dismissively, as if to shoo away a swarm of midges. "They signed it, didn't they? They agreed to it, didn't they? I'll bet you the kids will find out soon enough. I mean, it happens right here at Hogwarts—"

"Ludo, you know we need to go meet those Bulgarians," Mr. Crouch said sternly, interrupting Bagman. "Thanks for the tea, Weatherby."

He thrust the unfinished cup back into Percy's hands and waited for Ludo to rise. Ludo struggled to his feet and drained the tea in one gulp, the Galleons jingling happily in his pocket.

"See you later!" he said. "You'll be with me in the top box - I'll be commentating on the match!" He waved goodbye, and Barty Crouch nodded faintly, and then both of them Apparated away.

"What's going on at Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred asked immediately. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll soon find out," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.

"This is confidential. We won't know until the Ministry decides to make it public." Percy said seriously, "Mr. Crouch is right not to disclose confidential information easily."

"Oh, shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.