BAGMAN AND CROUCH vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere. Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were lumi- nous rosettes — green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria — which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves. “Been saving my pocket money all summer for this,” Ron told Harry as they and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron’s hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him. “Wow, look at these!” said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials. “Omnioculars,” said the saleswizard eagerly. “You can replay ac- tion . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain — ten Galleons each.” “Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars. “Three pairs,” said Harry firmly to the wizard. “No — don’t bother,” said Ron, going red. He was always ‘93‘