As soon as the two met, they clasped hands firmly and began conversing animatedly.
Though neither spoke the other's language, they carried on as if they were old friends, their cordial demeanor masking the communication gap.
Hand in hand, they shared what seemed like an amicable exchange.
Afterward, Fudge turned and beckoned Ethan forward with a wave.
"Ethan, let me introduce you. This is the Bulgarian Minister of Magic," Fudge announced with enthusiasm.
The Bulgarian Minister of Magic shook Ethan's hand and studied his amber, cat-like eyes with quiet curiosity.
For quite some time, Fudge paraded Ethan around, introducing him to an array of influential figures—wealthy patrons and prominent wizards alike.
At last, the familiar faces of the Weasley family arrived in the top-floor box.
Percy spotted Fudge with Ethan the moment he stepped in. He hurried over with excitement, and his eagerness was palpable as he greeted Fudge.
In his enthusiasm, Percy bent too low, nearly knocking his glasses off his face. Ethan swiftly caught the glasses and handed them back, earning a grateful glance from Percy.
Fudge, however, appeared wholly uninterested in Percy. He even managed to get his name wrong, addressing him with a dismissive, "Ah, yes, Weatherby."
The room grew awkward for a moment, though Percy seemed oblivious, still beaming with pride at being acknowledged by the Minister of Magic.
Fudge's attention had already shifted to Harry, the Boy Who Lived and the savior of the wizarding world.
Knowing Voldemort's defeat was not as final as once believed, Fudge greeted Harry warmly, almost fatherly, clasping his hand and engaging him in animated conversation. He introduced Harry to a distinguished wizard seated nearby while beaming with pride.
Moments later, the Malfoy family arrived. Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco entered the box, their heads held high and their characteristic arrogance unmistakable.
They greeted Fudge and Ethan with polite civility.
Draco, who had developed a growing admiration for Ethan, offered him a respectful nod, a rare gesture from the young Malfoy.
Lucius Malfoy, however, regarded Ethan with a more complex expression. A flicker of fear and unease lingered in his eyes—emotions that left Ethan puzzled. Why would the lofty Lucius Malfoy feel this way about him?
The Malfoys, as expected, were far less amiable toward the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione.
Lucius cast a disdainful glance at the Weasley family before sneering, "My dear Arthur, what exactly did you sell to secure this top box seat? Surely, your possessions aren't worth this much."
Arthur Weasley's face darkened. His tone was tense as he retorted, "That's none of your business, Lucius."
Lucius smirked but didn't bother to respond. His sharp gaze shifted to Hermione instead, his disdain evident.
It was clear he believed a Muggle-born girl had no place at an elite gathering like this, reserved for the upper echelons of wizarding society.
Lucius Malfoy opened his mouth, poised to deliver one of his usual biting remarks, but then paused as if struck by a sudden thought. His gaze flicked quickly to Ethan before he pressed his lips into a thin line, said nothing, and led his family to their seats.
Hermione, who had been bracing for Mr. Malfoy's usual venom, watched in bewilderment as the Malfoys left without a word. Her curiosity only deepened, but she couldn't discern the reason behind his unusual restraint.
At that moment, Ludo Bagman burst into the box, his round face gleaming like a giant ball of cheese.
"Is everyone ready?" he asked, his tone as exuberant as ever.
"Minister Fudge, shall we begin?" Bagman added, addressing Fudge with a cautious eagerness.
"Go ahead, Ludo," said Fudge kindly, gesturing for him to proceed.
Bagman pulled out his wand, pointed it at his throat, and muttered, "Sonorus!" His amplified voice echoed through the stadium like thunder, carrying to every corner of the packed stands.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup Final!"
The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause. Thousands of flags waved in unison, and an overlapping chorus of national anthems created a chaotic but electric atmosphere.
Across the stadium, the advertisements on the blackboard disappeared, replaced by bold letters displaying:
Bulgaria: 0, Ireland: 0.
"And now, without further ado," Ludo Bagman's voice boomed, "please welcome the mascots of the Bulgarian national team!"
The right side of the stands erupted in cheers as a vibrant, red-clad group formed a neat square.
From it emerged over a hundred stunningly beautiful women, gliding gracefully into the arena. Ethan leaned forward, his curiosity piqued by the Veela.
Their features were impossibly delicate, their luminous skin soft and radiant as moonlight, and their white-blonde hair flowed behind them, seemingly untouched by gravity. There was something otherworldly about their beauty, a magnetism impossible to ignore.
Then, the music began. The Veela moved in perfect harmony, their limbs tracing a mesmerizing rhythm. Each movement seemed to sync with the heartbeat of the viewers, pulling them closer, stirring an irresistible longing.
Ethan recognized the spellbinding power of Veela magic at once.
Around the stadium, young men were already succumbing to the enchantment. They rose to their feet, drawn like moths to a flame, some clambering awkwardly toward the edge of the stands as if desperate to join the Veela.
Harry and Ron were no exception. They stood abruptly, their gazes fixed, and began walking toward the edge of the box as though in a trance. Ron even reached out, as if hoping to grasp the air between him and the dancers.
"Harry! Ron! What are you doing?" Hermione shouted, alarmed.
Being immune to the Veela's magic, Hermione didn't understand what had come over her friends. She grabbed their shoulders and shook them forcefully, trying to snap them out of their daze.
Across the stadium, similar scenes unfolded. Young wizards stumbled toward the Veela, utterly entranced, while their bewildered female companions tried in vain to restrain them.
Not everyone was affected, however. Ethan, Fudge, the Bulgarian Minister, and Lucius Malfoy remained seated, deliberately making lighthearted remarks about the Veela's dance to show they were unmoved by such "low-level" magic.
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, sat frozen in his chair, looking conflicted. Though clearly spellbound, he remained in place only because his parents were firmly gripping his shoulders on either side.
The pressure from Lucius and Narcissa kept him from rising, preserving the family's dignity even as Draco's glazed expression betrayed his true struggle.