"Tickets and identification." the auror asked, stepping in front of the entrance to the VIP box. The two wizards handed over their passes and passports. "Press, ay?" the auror said, inspecting the first passport carefully. "I'm sure Fudge will love you."

"Is the Minister of Magic here?" the young man asked innocently. "I was unaware."

The auror cracked a grin and handed the documents back before standing aside. "Enjoy the match," he said. The two thanked him and entered the box, a small white dog following close behind.

"Nothing like a good Quidditch match, ay?" the older wizard, a seasoned Englishman with a grizzled black beard and a nose red from an overindulgence in potent potables.

"I'll admit, I'm more interested in people watching," the man's companion replied.

"C'mon, friend, have some enthusiasm. This is the Quidditch World Cup! Do you know how much I had to fork over for these seats?"

"I'd rather not." The younger wizard stopped and cast his gaze over the other occupants in the box. He spotted the Minister of Magic at the front, flanked by two aurors. Getting to him would be a challenge, he thought. He spotted Ludo Bagman seated beside Barty Crouch and momentarily considered grilling the wizard on his recent gambling scandal when he laid eyes Lucius Malfoy and his son a few seats over from Fudge. Ah, there's a catch. "Mr. Malfoy!"

"Who's that wizard talking to Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked, leaning across Ron to Mr. Weasley.

"That's Tintin, the reporter," Ron's father replied. "He writes for Le miroir magique. Has a knack for finding trouble and getting out of it. His friend is Captain Haddock, a retired auror. Second best in the force once upon a time, after old Mad-Eye."

"I've heard of Haddock, but I never heard of Tintin," Ron said.

"You've never read his work?" Hermione said. "Honestly, Ron, you need to read more. They put his stories in the Prophet sometimes. He recently got back from China, where he broke up an illegal potions operation.

"The Blue Lotus Affair," Mr. Weasley said. "That's his best one yet, I think."

"I'm partial to his adventure in America, tangling with the anti-Muggle forces," Hermione said.

"He's a kind of journalist you rarely see these days," Mr. Weasley noted.

Lucius turned and stifled a sneer at the sight of the reporter. "Mr. Tintin, a pleasant surprise. I believe you're lost; the press box is on the opposite end of the field."

"I'm here solely as an observer," Tintin replied. "Are you here as a guest of the Minister?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Malfoy replied, puffing up. "I own lifetime tickets."

"So rich," Tintin's companion muttered, ambling up beside the young man.

Lucius appraised the newcomer quickly. "I don't believe we've met, Mr…"

"Haddock," the man replied shortly. "Captain Haddock."

"Ah, yes, now I remember. Archibald Haddock, you were in the auror division."

Haddock smiled. "That I was. Twenty years on the force."

"You were sacked for drunkenness, if I recall correctly."

Haddock's smile faded as his face reddened to match the color of his nose. "You don't."

"Ah, my mistake."

Tintin had several questions, but he had a feeling he'd get nowhere with Lord Malfoy. He looked around the box again, his gaze locking on one figure in particular. "Is that…"

Lucius followed the reporter's gaze. "Ah, yes, Harry Potter," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Somehow he got in with the Weasleys-where they got the galleons for the tickets, I've no idea."

"Lovely talking to you as ever, Lucius," Tintin said.

Mr. Weasley nudged Ron. "Oh, look, he's coming over."

"Mr. Potter?" Harry looked over and studied the French reporter. He looked to be about Harry's age, maybe a year or so older. He had a soft-featured face with a small button nose and a pair of inquisitive brown eyes. His red hair was cut short, its otherwise neat presentation marred by a curious cowlick at the front. He wore what looked to be a mix between a beige trenchcoat and a robe over a blue sweater and outdated brown plus-fours. "My name is Tintin."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, shaking the young reporter's hand.

"Likewise. I'll admit, I'm honored to meet you; you're rather hard to find."

Harry grimaced. "Dumbledore likes to keep me out of the news."

Tintin frowned, but brushed aside the curious statement. "You play for the Gryffindor team, right?" He noticed Harry's reticence and smiled. "No worries, I'm not here for an interview."

Harry relaxed and nodded. "I hear the Irish and Bulgarian seekers are pretty good."

"Aye, Lynch is the frontrunner," Haddock said, "but I've got my galleons on Krum." He noticed Tintin's disapproval. "Figuratively, of course."

A yip directed Harry's attention down as a small animal put its paws up on his knees and licked one of his hands. Harry smiled at the little white dog and patted him on the head. "Is this your dog?"

Tintin nodded. "Down! Really, Snowy, you're much better behaved than that."

"I don't mind," Harry said.

A gong sounded through the stadium. Haddock checked his pocket watch. "Ah, ten minutes from liftoff; mind if we take these seats?"

"By all means," Mr. Weasley replied.

The reporter and the auror settled in, and for the next hour they thought of little else but the ensuing match.

"Honestly, Captain, can't you hold your liquor for once?"

The Captain stumbled on a tent peg, pausing his off-kilter rendition of an Irish drinking song. "Can't a man have a little fun?"

Tintin knew better than to press the argument. His old friend had been behaving well these last few weeks; one night of debauchery probably wouldn't kill him.

"Those Irish really whipped the Bulgars, didn't they?" Haddock said with a grin. "Just as I predicted."

"Didn't you bet a hundred galleons that the Bulgarians would win?"

Haddock paused misstep, his face going slack. "Oh, blistering barnacles!"

Tintin flinched, but not from the Captain's creative profanity. Rather, he flinched as an explosion rocked the ground under him. Tent flaps opened, and the revellers paused in their celebration and looked around in confusion. A second explosion, this one closer, unleashed the first wave of panic. Within moments, people were running to and fro, and screams and spells filled the night air.

"What the devil?" Haddock drew his wand, suddenly three drinks more sober. Tintin did the same and jumped onto a vacated camp chair for a better look. He spotted a group of robed and masked figures to his right, setting tents afire as they advanced through the festival grounds.

"Captain!" He stepped down and motioned for Haddock to take his place. The Captain caught site of the mob and went pale.

"Death Eaters." His blood began to boil. "Death Eaters!" Before Tintin could stop him, Haddock leapt down and pushed through the crowd towards the masked wizards. "You bashi bazouks! Poltroons! I'll tan the lot of ya!

Tintin made to follow when he nearly collided with a group of young Hogwarts students. "Harry!" he said, recognizing Potter. "You need to get out of here! It's not safe!"

"Where should we go?" Harry's bushy-haired friend (Granger, he recalled) asked, eyes frantic.

Tintin looked around and caught site of the treeline in the distance. "The woods! We can hide there!"

The four young wizards pushed through the crowd, reaching the edge of the forest right as the Death Eaters overran their previous location. They hunkered down in the bushes and watched in horror as the Death Eaters began to torture the Muggle campground owner and his family. "Barbarians," Tintin muttered.

"Look!" Harry pointed to their left. "That's Mr. Crouch's elf, Winky."

"What's she doing?" Ron asked.

Tintin was just as stumped; the house elf appeared to be engaged in a tug of war with an invisible opponent. After a few moments, the house elf fell back onto the grass, seemingly out cold. Snowy leapt out of the bushes and rushed towards the elf, only to be thrown back by whatever had attacked Winky. "Snowy!" Tintin fired off a few stunning spells, but they bounced harmlessly off of the trees.

Harry was about to rush over and help the house elf when a sudden burst of green light startled him. He looked back towards the tent village just in time to see the Dark Mark appear in the sky. "Good Merlin," Tintin whispered in French. Harry had to agree.

"Death Eaters?" Fudge gave the reporter a nervous laugh. "Nonsense. It was just a bunch of hooligans causing havoc."

"Only a Death Eater would know how to cast the Dark Mark," Haddock replied. He had appeared soon after the end of the riot, his robes in tatters and his nose broken.

"It's easier than one would think," Malfoy said quietly.

Haddock scowled at the man. "You'd know, wouldn't you, you pestilential puddle of frog spawn. Where were you during all this? Playing with your old comrades?" Lucius made to draw his wand from its cane holster but Haddock beat him to the punch, knocking the cane aside. "Or were you hiding like the coward you always were?"

"How dare you!" Lucius snarled, shaking with rage. "I won't stand here and listen to the babbling of an old drunk. Draco, we're going home." He summoned his cane back, grabbed his son by the arm and apparated away with a soft pop.

"We ought to track him," Haddock muttered.

Fudge tsked and shook his head. "Don't be absurd, Archibald. Malfoy is a respected member of the Wizengamot and a good friend of mine."

"The bigger the purse, the closer the friend," Haddock said under his breath before stomping away.

Tintin was distracted from his friend's storming off by the appearance of Barty Crouch. The man was dragging the house elf Winky behind him. "I found our culprit," he said angrily, pushing Winky towards Fudge and the gathered aurors. He tossed Fudge a wand. "She used this to cast the Dark Mark."

"Why would a house elf need a wand to cast magic?" Tintin asked.

Fudge inspected the wand closely. "Yes, this is indeed the wand responsible. Really, Barty, I'm shocked."

"Not as stunned as I am," Crouch replied. He cast a cold eye on his house elf. "Winky," he began, pulling off one of his gloves and tossing it to the elf. "You're sacked." He gave his regards to Fudge before leaving his former servant clutching the glove and wailing in misery.

"You don't honestly believe that Winky could do such a thing?" Tintin asked one of the aurors he knew by name.

Kingsley Shacklebolt gave a resigned gesture. "I'm afraid it's the only viable outcome," he said, glancing over at Fudge and frowning.

"There's no use in arresting her," Fudge said. "She's been punished enough as it is."

Hermione walked over to Winky. "Come on, let's get you something hot to drink."

"Winky doesn't want to be free!" the elf sobbed.

Tintin shook his head. "This whole thing stinks," he said, turning to Fudge. "Winky was fighting with someone in the woods and was knocked out right before the Dark Mark was cast. Whatever attacked her also attacked my dog." Snowy barked in agreement, a bandage wrapped around his wounded ear.

"This isn't your country, Tintin," Fudge replied, crossing his arms. "I suggest you leave the investigation to us."

"This isn't over," Tintin promised, wagging his finger at the minister. He turned to Harry and his friends. "Sorry about tonight, Harry. I suppose we'll meet again."

Harry gave a sigh of resignation. "I suppose we will."

Look here! Another story?

Apologies, I originally began the story during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, but I decided that it would be better to begin with the events of the Quidditch World Cup. The original first chapter will be recycled for a later post.

I have always been an enormous fan of the Adventures of Tintin, and I've long considered writing a fanfic. What a surprise that I chose to crossover with Harry Potter, my specialty. If you enjoy this story, please favorite, follow, and leave a comment below! Also, do take a look at my other stories.

Edit: Made Tintin closer in age to Harry, meaning he's now a Beauxbatons student as well as a reporter. What an overachiever, amirite?