Since the tickets were also arranged by Ludo Bagman, Alaric's box was right next to the Weasley family's.
Mr. Weasley led the way, and everyone clutched their purchased items as they hurried along the lantern-lit path into the forest.
They could hear hundreds of people moving around, shouting, laughing, and even sporadically singing.
This kind of contagious excitement was infectious, and Alaric noticed even Percy Weasley couldn't help but grin broadly.
They walked through the forest for twenty minutes, laughing and joking loudly, and finally emerged from the other side, finding themselves in the shadow of a colossal stadium.
Looking out, they could see only part of the grand golden walls surrounding the stadium.
"It can hold a hundred thousand spectators," Mr. Weasley said, seeing their astonished expressions.
"The Ministry of Magic has had five hundred people working on it for a whole year. Every inch of this place is protected by Muggle-repelling charms.
Anytime a Muggle approaches, they suddenly remember something urgent and hurry away... God bless them."
Soon, they squeezed to the nearest entrance, where a crowd of shouting wizards had already gathered.
"Top Box," said the witch at the entrance, checking their tickets. "All the way up, top level."
The stairs leading to the stadium were covered with a deep purple carpet. They climbed the steps along with the crowd and finally reached the top.
They found themselves in a small box at the very top of the stadium, directly facing the golden goalposts.
There were about twenty purple and gold-plated chairs arranged in two rows.
But in Alaric's box, there were only three people. It seemed Bagman had gone all out to seek Alaric's forgiveness.
Next door, it was a different story. The Weasleys and their guests kept arriving in their box, with Mr. Weasley constantly shaking hands with what appeared to be very important wizards.
Percy stood up repeatedly, looking as if he were sitting on a pincushion.
When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell and shattered.
He was extremely embarrassed, repaired them with his wand, and then sat frozen in his seat.
When Fudge greeted Harry like an old friend, Percy cast a jealous glance at Harry.
Fudge, looking fatherly, shook Harry's hand warmly, inquired about his well-being, and introduced him to the wizard sitting beside him.
"Harry Potter, you know," he said loudly to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic—a man in a luxurious gold-trimmed black velvet robe who seemed not to understand a word of English.
"Harry Potter... oh, come on, you must know who he is... the boy who survived the Dark Lord... you know who he is, right?"
The Bulgarian wizard suddenly saw the scar on Harry's forehead and excitedly pointed at it, babbling a string of words.
"Fudge is a fool. He's trying to use Harry Potter to bolster his own influence, and it seems he's gone mad," Alaric explained to a curious Hermione and Penelope.
"And evidently, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic speaks English."
"Then why is he pretending not to?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Maybe he finds it amusing to watch Fudge making a fool of himself," Alaric shrugged with a smile.
As if he had heard Alaric's words, Fudge glanced over and saw Alaric sitting in the adjacent box.
Alaric gave him a cold smile, and Fudge immediately turned away, looking both angry and frightened.
The stadium, seating ten thousand wizards, was filling up, with seats arranged in tiers around the oval field.
Everything was bathed in a mysterious golden light, seemingly emanating from the stadium itself.
From their high vantage point, the field looked smooth as velvet.
At each end of the field stood three fifty-foot-high goal hoops.
To their right, almost at eye level with Alaric, was a huge blackboard, displaying golden text that flickered and changed as if an invisible giant hand were writing and erasing it.
The flashing text displayed advertisements for the spectators.
Then, Ludo Bagman burst into the next box.
"Is everyone ready?" he said, his round face shining like a giant cheese. "Minister—shall we begin?"
"Go ahead, Ludo," Fudge said kindly.
Ludo pulled out his wand and pointed it at his throat.
"Sonorus!"
His voice boomed like thunder, echoing across the packed stadium. It reverberated above them, reaching every corner of the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup Final!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.
Thousands of flags waved, accompanied by a cacophony of national anthems, creating a vibrant and lively scene.
The last advertisement on the blackboard opposite them (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans—A Risk with Every Mouthful!) disappeared, now showing: Bulgaria: 0, Ireland: 0.
"Well, let's not delay... let me introduce... the Bulgarian National Team's mascots!"
From the right side of the stands, a neat formation of red erupted in loud cheers.
Many people leaned out of their seats, and a hundred Veela glided onto the field.
These beautiful women had skin that glowed softly like the moon, their hair floating behind them without any wind.
Music started, and the Veela began to dance. Alaric felt an seductive presence trying to invade his mind, but he quickly shook it off.
He looked around and saw everyone else captivated by the Veela. The women were in better shape, but the men looked ridiculous.
Alaric glanced to the side and saw that among the people he knew, Harry was standing there, one leg up on the edge of the box.
Ron seemed poised to dive off a diving board, frozen in place.
George and Fred were enthusiastically hugging each other, looking ready to kiss; Percy, in a ridiculous pose, was dancing along with the Veela.
Mr. Weasley, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin showed no reaction, likely having cast protective spells on themselves beforehand.
"What... what's wrong with them?" Penelope nervously clutched Alaric's hand, thinking these people had gone mad.
"These are Veela, a type of shape-shifting fairy," Hermione explained.
"When they take human form, they appear as beautiful young women, dancing in the moonlight on midsummer nights.
Men who fall for them forget everything else, not eating, drinking, or sleeping.
If someone joins their dance, they keep dancing until they collapse from exhaustion and die."
For some reason, Alaric thought of the half-Veela he encountered at the wizard chess tournament, Fleur Delacour, and her masterful charm magic.
He remembered that in the original book, the Delacour sisters also came to watch this final. He wondered if he would run into them.
.
.
.
Guys, do leave some power stones and reviews.
✌patreon.com/bobthewriter✌
If you guys enjoy this story, you can support me on Patreon and get access to 30 Advance Chapters, it really helps me to work on new chapters.