By evening, the atmosphere had become increasingly lively. As the match drew closer, a contagious excitement spread across the campsite, like a palpable cloud hovering in the air. At dusk, even the still summer air seemed to tremble in anticipation. As night descended like a curtain over the thousands of wizards eagerly awaiting the event, the last traces of concealment vanished. It seemed that the Ministry of Magic had finally yielded to the inevitable, allowing signs of magic to emerge openly all around.
Augustus sat calmly on a bench in the garden outside their tent, watching the bustling wizards moving back and forth with detached indifference to the upcoming match. Peddlers occasionally appeared, seemingly out of thin air, pushing carts filled with an assortment of goods. Lilian sat beside Augustus, reclining impatiently with her attention fixed on a Muggle romance novel, completely ignoring the persistent cries of the vendors.
Malfoy entered the tent and stopped a passing merchant. "This looks useful, Augustus," he said, holding up an item. "A pair of binoculars—these will let us observe the players' techniques more closely."
"Omnioculars," the wizard vendor said enthusiastically. "You can replay scenes, watch in slow motion, and even get quick match analysis if needed. Ten Galleons each—what do you say?"
"Sounds decent," Lilian remarked without looking up from her book. "Buy three while you're at it."
"Alright then, three it is," Malfoy agreed, handing over thirty Galleons and taking the Omnioculars. Only after completing the purchase did he realize how obedient he had been.
As the sun set and darkness crept over the horizon, the distant sound of a deep gong resonated from somewhere in the woods. Instantly, thousands of lanterns in red and green lit up the trees, illuminating the path to the stadium.
"It's time," announced Blaine and Lucius, emerging from the tent to gather the group. "Let's go."
The five of them made their way through the glowing path, surrounded by a sea of wizards in diverse attire. The air buzzed with shouts, laughter, and the occasional snatches of song. After about twenty minutes of walking, they emerged from the forest to behold a massive stadium. Only a portion of the stadium's golden walls was visible, but its grandeur was awe-inspiring.
"It's impressive," Malfoy commented as he explained to Augustus. "They say it can hold 100,000 spectators. I still don't understand why Muggles have never discovered this place."
"You must not have been paying attention in school," Lilian scoffed, her red eyes gleaming with derision. "Think about Hogwarts. It's the same principle. Honestly, your intelligence is astonishingly underwhelming."
Malfoy coughed awkwardly, unfazed. "I knew that, of course. I just wanted to give you a chance to show off in front of Augustus."
Lucius sighed, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Keep your composure, Draco. Remember, you're a Malfoy."
At the entrance, a Ministry witch examined their tickets. "Box seats," she said, indicating the top level. "Go all the way up, Mr. Blaine and Mr. Malfoy."
They ascended the staircase, carpeted in rich burgundy, following the crowd until it diverged onto separate viewing platforms. At the very top, they reached their box, situated directly opposite the golden goalposts. The area featured two rows of plush purple and gold chairs, about twenty in total.
The box was already partially occupied. Lucius led them to seats in the top tier of the third row. As they passed, Lucius greeted Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. "Minister, how wonderful to see you. Allow me to introduce my son, Draco. I believe you've already met Augustus. And this is Blaine, head of the Department of Mysteries, and his daughter, Lilian."
Fudge responded with polite smiles and handshakes. When he reached Augustus, he smiled wryly. "Ah, Augustus, I must say Azkaban is running short on Dementors thanks to you. At this rate, the prisoners might start thanking you! Please send my regards to your parents—it's a shame they couldn't join us tonight."
Augustus smiled slightly. "Dementors won't be returning to Hogwarts, Minister. Such creatures need stricter control from the Ministry. If not, I'd be more than willing to handle them myself."
Fudge nodded, maintaining his diplomatic demeanor. "Indeed, indeed."
He then turned to introduce another guest. "Augustus, may I present Mr. Obalonsk, the Bulgarian Minister of Magic."
After some pleasantries, Fudge pointed to another familiar face. "And you know Arthur Weasley, of course?"
It was then that Augustus noticed Harry and his friends seated in the corner. Lucius's cold gray eyes swept over the Weasleys with disdain.
"Arthur," Lucius murmured, "what did you sell to afford seats in this box? Your possessions couldn't possibly be worth enough."
Fudge, oblivious, interjected, "Lucius made a generous donation to St. Mungo's recently, Arthur. That's why he's here as my guest."
"Wonderful," Weasley replied stiffly, his smile strained.
Augustus nodded slightly to Harry's group, while Lucius's frigid gaze lingered briefly before he turned away. With Fudge and Augustus present, Lucius held his tongue.
The five settled into seats in the front row, just as Ludo Bagman burst into the box, his round face beaming like a glowing cheese wheel.
"Everyone ready?" he exclaimed. "Minister, shall we begin?"
"At your command, Ludo," Fudge replied kindly.
Drawing his wand, Bagman pointed it at his throat and cast a Sonorous charm. His amplified voice thundered across the packed stadium.
"Ladies and gentlemen… Welcome to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup Final!"
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09