THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP Winky firmly, from behind her hands. “House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter” — she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped — “but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.” “Why’s he sent you up here, if he knows you don’t like heights?” said Harry, frowning. “Master — master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy,” said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. “Winky is wishing she is back in master’s tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf.” She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to the others. “So that’s a house-elf?” Ron muttered. “Weird things, aren’t they?” “Dobby was weirder,” said Harry fervently. Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, star- ing down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium. “Wild!” he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. “I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again . . . and again . . . and again . . .” Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvet- covered, tasseled program. “‘A display from the team mascots will precede the match,’” she read aloud. “Oh that’s always worth watching,” said Mr. Weasley. “National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.” The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. ‘ 99 ‘