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Chapter 848: The Quidditch World Cup Finals
Chapter 848: The Quidditch World Cup Finals
"Merlin's beard, this place is hard to find," Fred remarked as he surveyed the sparse interior of the tent, looking quizzically at his friend. "Are you telling me you've been staying here these past few days?"
"Don't be daft, Fred. Albert knows how to enjoy life better than you. There's no way he'd sleep here," George dismissed the idea, finding Fred's suggestion absurd. He handed Albert the parchment that Sirius had asked them to deliver and steered the conversation back to the reason for their visit.
"So, you had Sirius place some bets for you?"
Seeing that Albert was attentively reading the parchment and had no intention of responding, George took it as confirmation.
Some things were better left unsaid, and it was enough that they knew.
George continued, "We placed our bets with Ludo Bagman. Like Black, we wagered that Ireland would win and score first, but Viktor Krum would catch the Golden Snitch..."
"...and at the end of the game, the total score wouldn't exceed thirty points," Fred interjected, finishing his twin's sentence.
"How much?"
"What?" Fred was momentarily confused.
"How many times the payout?" George clarified.
"Eight times." Fred answered promptly.
"Ludo Bagman has lost quite a bit of Galleons lately," Albert commented as he took out a pen and began making annotations on the parchment without looking up. "He's borrowed a substantial sum from the goblins at Gringotts, and I doubt he'll be able to pay it back."
"You mean..." George furrowed his brow, understanding the implication of Albert's words. "He's planning to welsh on his debts? No wonder he seemed a bit odd earlier."
"The goblins won't let Bagman get away with that," Fred shook his head. "They're not house-elves."
"No, you're not getting it, Fred," George interrupted, raising his hand. "Albert means Bagman might welch on our Galleons. And of course, the goblins' Galleons too."
"Can you two speak normally?" Fred felt like he couldn't keep up with their train of thought. He and George were twins, yet he couldn't understand while George could?
"The Irish team's mascot is a leprechaun, and they like to shower the pitch with magical gold coins during their performances," Albert added.
"The leprechauns' gold coins do look remarkably like Galleons. Do you think Bagman might try to pull a fast one on us with those coins?" George asked, his brow furrowed as he considered possible countermeasures.
"As long as we inspect the coins immediately after receiving them, he shouldn't be able to pull the wool over our eyes that easily," Fred replied, even though he hadn't seen the leprechauns' gold coins before. He was confident that Bagman wouldn't be able to deceive them if they remained vigilant.
"Lee Jordan's tent is nearby. You can stop by on your way and tell him about this," Albert instructed as he took a sip from his teacup. "You haven't met his family yet, have you?"
"It seems you've made quite a haul," George couldn't help but marvel at Albert's money-making schemes. "But Bagman deserves it anyway."
Upon learning from Albert that Bagman might try to deceive them with fake gold coins, any last shred of sympathy Fred and George had for Bagman vanished.
"He's too much of a gambler and has lost far too many Galleons. There's no way he can repay the goblins, so he'll probably skip town," Albert warned. "If you want your money, you'll have to get it while he still has some left. Otherwise, you can kiss your Galleons goodbye."
"This situation seems worse than we thought," George muttered. "I'll mention this to Lee Jordan."
"Then...see you tonight!"
Just before leaving the tent, Fred turned back and asked, "By the way, you seem quite fond of the magazine that Black is publishing, don't you?"
"Because people need it!" Albert replied with a smile.
After the Weasley brothers left, Albert continued perusing the parchment in his hands. Suddenly, he seemed to remember something and called over his house-elf, Bitt. He took out a glass bottle from his Chimeroleather bag, which was filled with black beads, and handed it to the house-elf, instructing him in a hushed tone on what he needed to do that evening.
Bitt looked at the glass bottle in his hand anxiously, but he nodded to indicate that he would carry out the task.
"Oh, and after the game tonight, we'll be leaving immediately. You don't need to pack up this tent; just leave it here. You can Disapparate with the suitcase, and remember to leave that thing with you as a gift for those troublemaking Death Eaters. Just make sure you don't leave any evidence that could lead back to us," Albert added.
"Yes, Master," Bitt replied, bowing slightly before scurrying off to make the final preparations for their departure.
Albert put away the modified parchment back into the box and informed Catherine and Valeria that they would be leaving immediately after the game that night.
Whether they chose to leave with him or not was not his decision to make.
...
"Are we going home after the game?"
Nia asked as she held Albert's hand, strolling through the forest with the crowd. They had walked this path several times and were fairly familiar with the surroundings.
"What about the third-place match? Aren't we going to watch it?" Katrina knew that Albert had tickets for the match, and the premium seats didn't come cheap.
"I've already asked someone to sell the third-place match tickets," Albert replied calmly as he gazed at the crowd ahead. "I expect this place will be under lockdown after tonight."
"It seems the situation is really dire. How did you find out that something would happen tonight?" Valeria was curious about the source of Albert's information.
"Don't you know he's a Seer?" Katrina muttered.
"A Seer?"
The two girls looked at Albert in unison, "Are you sure it's not just lousy Divination?"
After a brief silence, Catherine suddenly asked, "During the Potion Championship, did you cheat using a prophecy?"
"Do you think I needed to cheat?" Albert countered.
"Prophecies are truly baffling things.
Valeria looked at Albert with fiery eyes, no wonder Albert could always guess which team would win.
During this Quidditch World Cup, they had won a large sum of money through bets, and even though they had to give a portion to someone, the amount of Galleons they earned was still considerable.
"What did you prophesize?" Catherine pressed.
"Fire, a Dark Wizard, and the Dark Mark," Albert whispered.
"What's the Dark Mark?" Neither Valeria nor Catherine were familiar with Voldemort's mark.
In fact, most young wizards nowadays didn't know much about it either.
There was no helping it; compared to the first Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald, Voldemort's infamy was more localized to Europe, and his followers were mostly concentrated in Britain. Unlike Grindelwald, who had a broad base of supporters, no one had told Catherine and Valeria not to directly address Voldemort's name, nor had anyone explained to them what the Dark Mark was.
"I suggest you read tomorrow morning's Prophet," Albert made a hushing gesture, indicating that they shouldn't discuss this topic here.
"Can't it be mentioned?"
"British wizards are very superstitious about it. You'll understand when you read the newspaper tomorrow."
Upon reaching the top level, Albert and his group entered their familiar box and found that there were already quite a few acquaintances present.
To their surprise, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley family were all in the same box. Fred and George enthusiastically waved at Albert, while Harry was chatting with a house-elf, and Hermione looked quite upset for some reason.
In the back corner, there was a house-elf apparently saving a seat for its master, but Albert knew that Bartemius Crouch Sr. wouldn't be watching the final match, as the empty seat was actually meant for Barty Crouch Jr.
To be honest, Albert was tempted to secretly pull off the Invisibility Cloak that was covering the house-elf, giving the spectators in the box an unexpected surprise. He was convinced that this revelation would be even more sensational than the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup, and he believed that Fudge would be so excited that he'd let a Dementor give Junior a kiss.
However, now was not the time, as Junior still had his uses. Albert ultimately restrained himself, knowing that if he messed up, he wouldn't be able to squeeze out any more panel tasks from the little guy.
"What's wrong?" Isabelle noticed Albert's change in mood.
"Nothing," Albert shook his head.
She didn't believe it was nothing. Following Albert's gaze just now, she spotted the house-elf next to the empty seat and frowned thoughtfully. However, Isabelle didn't pursue the matter further and started chatting with Katrina once they were seated.
At that moment, more people entered the box. Minister Fudge, accompanied by the Bulgarian Minister, walked in.
The two men gestured and spoke to each other in languages the other couldn't understand.
Well, at least Fudge didn't understand Bulgarian, whereas the Bulgarian Minister might understand English.
By not using English to communicate with Fudge, he was probably making fun of him.
Following them were the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy seemed to have had some unpleasant exchange with the Weasleys.
At the very least, after a brief conversation, Mr. Weasley's expression looked rather unnatural.
The Bulgarian Minister, who had been sitting in the front row, wasn't done having fun at Fudge's expense. He turned around and struck up a conversation with Albert.
The people in the box wore odd expressions, and Fudge was no exception, as he realized that Albert was conversing fluently in Bulgarian and that the two seemed to know each other quite well.
Come to think of it, does this guy have such a wide range of acquaintances?
Does he even know the Bulgarian Minister? One might mistake him for a pure-blood the way he's mingling.
Fudge suddenly had a clue as to why the British Youth Representative at the last Wizengamot turned out the way he did.
"I should've asked you to translate for me just now. Usually, Barty Crouch handles these things. You know him, right?"
"We've met a few times," Albert turned back to his new friend and asked in fluent Bulgarian, "Can't Mr. Oblansk understand English?"
"I understand it, but I think this is more fun." The Bulgarian Minister shrugged, not at all embarrassed at being caught, "Besides, that guy thinks I don't understand English, so he doesn't hold back when he speaks. By the way, who do you think will win tonight?"
"It's hard to say, but Ireland has a bigger advantage. Bulgaria's hope for the championship lies with Krum, and if he doesn't catch the Golden Snitch before the score gap widens, they'll lose their chance." Albert spoke frankly, "Both sides are probably aware of this, so it all comes down to who's better prepared and who has better luck."
"You're absolutely right."
The Bulgarian Minister was well aware of his team's shortcomings, but he didn't think Bulgaria had no chance at all.
The match began with Ludo's shout, and after the Bulgarian mascot, the Veela, entered the field, many of the gentlemen in the audience fell victim to "social death" once again. Harry and Ron were prepared this time and kept their eyes closed when the Veela danced, but Fred, George, and even Percy weren't so lucky, and Draco Malfoy sitting behind them didn't miss the opportunity to point and laugh at them.
The Irish mascots, on the other hand, were more popular with the crowd. These bearded dwarfs, dressed in red vests, flew overhead, forming various fireworks, and finally, they created a huge, dazzling three-leaf clover that spun above the spectators, showering them with a multitude of gold coins. The audience below scrambled to catch them.
"Don't they know these coins will disappear?" Nia asked, holding a few dwarf coins in her hand, puzzled by the audience's behavior.
And after the rain of gold coins, there were actually people who believed they were real.
"A lot of people don't know," Albert said, glancing at a hand that had appeared out of thin air, reaching into Harry's pocket and taking his wand. Meanwhile, the house-elf who had been watching over Junior kept its face covered with its hands.
Just at that moment, a panel task was triggered. Although it didn't give much experience, it still brought a smile to Albert's face. It was a good start.
Having just gotten his wand, Barty Jr. was still exhilarated when he suddenly shivered, as if sensing a vague sense of malice nearby.
Who is it?
Barty Jr. looked around but couldn't spot the source of his unease.
"Some people will eagerly collect them even if they know they're fake, just to be part of the lively atmosphere," Albert commented.
True to the spirit of the Quidditch World Cup, both national teams displayed exceptional skill and went straight for the offensive, foregoing any initial strategizing.
Especially the Irish team, they continued the Americans' tactic of suppressing Krum while swiftly racking up points against the Bulgarians.
As expected, Ireland scored first, and their supporters in the stands erupted in wild cheers and applause.
The game continued, and Ireland's suppression tactic proved even more effective than that of the American team, forcing Krum to resort to a Lunsk pass to buy himself some time.
This time, he didn't fall to the ground, but his opponent, Lynch, took the full brunt of the maneuver and gave Krum an opportunity to search for the Golden Snitch undisturbed.
"I think they're playing for keeps. Don't they worry about breaking their necks?" Nia was still not used to such intense gameplay. Ordinary people would have surely been killed by now.
"If they break their necks, it's just bad luck," Albert replied.
With the support of the Irish fans and medical treatment, Lynch got back on his broom and rejoined the game.
However, Albert could tell that Lynch was in bad shape after his close encounter with the ground. The Irish team seemed to have realized this as well and intensified their offense against the Bulgarians, showcasing superb skills and seamless coordination. Perhaps, the Irish team never expected Lynch to catch the Golden Snitch in the first place.
As the score gap widened, the pressure on the Bulgarian players became overwhelming, especially when the Irish lead reached a hundred points. The Bulgarians had no choice but to once again resort to the violent tactics they had employed against the Americans, creating an opportunity for Krum to go after the Golden Snitch.
The game descended into chaos.
The intensity and ferocity of the match were beyond anything the spectators had ever witnessed.
Both teams' Beaters mercilessly swung their bats, seemingly unconcerned whether they hit the Bludgers or their opponents. Their Seekers were equally aggressive, and in an attempt to prevent the opposing team from scoring, the Bulgarian Seeker charged at the Irish Chaser holding the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.
The Veelas, who had been spectators until now, joined the fray, tangling with the Irish leprechauns and even setting fire to the referee's broom tail to distract him.
Amidst the chaos, Krum attempted to break free from his opponents' suppression, just as he had done before. However, the two Irish Beaters kept a close eye on him and continuously used the Bludgers to disrupt his flight path.
Penalty, penalty, penalty.
The Bulgarian team paid a hefty price for their tactics, conceding numerous penalties and allowing the Irish team to pull further ahead. Krum failed to catch the Golden Snitch in time and even sustained an injury from a Bludger, his expression growing even gloomier.
"Bulgaria has lost," Albert murmured as he glanced at the scoreboard.
Ireland had taken an insurmountable lead of 170 points.
However, many spectators failed to notice this, their eyes glued to the intense action on the pitch, and they continued to voice their protests, unaware that Ireland had already clinched the victory.
Krum, on the other hand, was keenly aware of the situation.
They had lost, and it was a crushing defeat.
So, when he saw the Irish Seeker chasing after the Golden Snitch, he didn't hesitate to accelerate in pursuit.
Krum wasn't trying to prevent his opponent from catching the Snitch; he was ending the game. He knew he had to do this to allow Bulgaria to exit the tournament with some dignity. It was the only thing he could do.
After all, a slight difference in the score could be attributed to bad luck.
A resounding defeat, on the other hand, would be a blow to the confidence of his teammates and supporters.
Both Seekers dove after the Golden Snitch, accelerating in a furious chase.
This time, Krum didn't crash into the ground as he had before, but Lynch, his Irish counterpart, took the fall instead.
However, Krum's expression remained grim as he caught the Golden Snitch, knowing that he had just handed Bulgaria their loss.
"He's a brave one," Nia remarked.
"Krum is indeed brave. He allowed Bulgaria to lose with dignity," Albert agreed.
"Yes, our boy fought bravely," the Bulgarian Minister said, glancing at Fudge's disgruntled face. He spoke in fluent English.
"What! You understand English?" Fudge scowled at the Bulgarian Minister. "Here I've been making a fool of myself all day, gesturing like an idiot!"
"Hey, it was fun," the Bulgarian Minister shrugged and stood up, making his way toward the award ceremony below.
At that moment, the leprechauns above rained down a shower of gold coins to celebrate Ireland's victory.
Fudge, realizing that he had been played, was furious. Even Ireland's win in the Quidditch World Cup didn't improve his mood, and he marched onto the stage with a sour expression to present the championship trophy.
"Let's go. We should head back," Albert said, signaling for the others to leave while Fred and George went to collect their winnings from Ludo Bagman, clearly remembering Albert's warning.
(End of Chapter)
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