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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 291 - Brooms, Cheers, and a Dash of Chaos (I)
🕑 Added 2025-12-13 19:30:20 +0000 UTC“…Okay. Tell me the truth. Who is she really?”
Sunlight filtered through a faint layer of clouds above a vast, misty field in the Scottish Highlands, spreading gently over the grass with a warmth that touched without burning.
Two figures, a man and a woman, walked together with their arms linked as a soft breeze swept past them, tugging lightly at their clothes. From a distance, laughter and excitement drifted through the air in the direction they were heading, clearly signaling a festive atmosphere, yet as if it had all been expected, their expressions remained unchanged as they continued their leisurely stroll.
“Nobody,” the man said with a weary shrug, glancing helplessly at the woman. “I swear, honey… it’s just a random face.”
He glanced for a moment at the arm linked with his, then returned his gaze forward, a faint smile forming as he surveyed the bustling activity ahead.
He “saw” countless tents spread across the field, creating a sprawling temporary city of simple camping shelters. Tens of thousands of men, women, and children moved among them in clusters, their voices colliding in a vibrant chorus that made the place hum with life.
“You honestly expect me to believe that?” she asked, lifting one brow as she tilted her head to look at him. “That you just randomly came up with a face this gorgeous?”
“Ah,” he replied lightly, amusement creeping into his voice. “So you do like it.”
“I never said I didn’t,” she said. “I’m just curious about who she is.”
Though their words could be taken as a light argument, there was nothing sharp about them; the effortless ease between the two made it clearly far from a real disagreement.
In truth, they were Maverick and Isabella, though neither of them resembled their real selves. Isabella wore the appearance of an Asian woman with fair skin and straight black hair that fell neatly down her back. She was dressed in a clean, casual white outfit, a fitted blouse paired with a flowing skirt that swayed gently with each step.
Maverick’s disguise complemented hers perfectly. Tall and sharp-featured, with short, neatly styled black hair, he wore a crisp white top under a light jacket, brown loose pants, and white shoes, polished yet casual, elegant without formality.
Early July sun shone over the moors as they moved toward the crowds assembled for the Quidditch World Cup. The vast campground was dotted with tents of every imaginable shape and enchantment, flags rippling above, enchanted trinkets humming and spinning, the air charged with a tangible sense of excitement.
Woosh, woosh...
Witches and wizards aboard brooms darted through the sky, some alone, others in groups, laughing as they weaved between tents or set off harmless magical fireworks that bloomed brightly before fading into sparks.
The air buzzed with noise, yet beneath the chaos ran an unmistakable festive energy. Cheers rose and fell without warning, mingling with shouted greetings and the crackle of spellwork. Vendors called out to passing crowds, while enchanted banners fluttered wildly overhead, swaying as if alive with the excitement of the gathering.
All around, excitement spilled freely. Wizards from every corner of the world displayed their country’s fashions, strangers debated predictions as though lifelong companions, children tugged eagerly at parents’ sleeves, and even the oldest, most experienced fans couldn’t hide their childlike anticipation.
For a brief moment, it felt as though the entire wizarding world had decided to set aside its grudges and secrets, choosing instead to celebrate together under an open sky.
They soon reached the heart of the bustling site. Behind them, uniformed personnel kept the entering crowd in line, yet Maverick and Isabella slipped through effortlessly, their presence seemingly unnoticed by anyone.
“When does the game start anyway?” Isabella asked. The noisy atmosphere didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, her attention fixed entirely on the man whose arm was linked with hers.
“Late afternoon, I think,” Maverick replied thoughtfully. “There’s still a few hours. Why don’t we grab something to eat over there?” He nodded toward a live cooking station nearby, where a Middle Eastern-looking couple worked over a sizzling grill, the aroma of spices floating toward them.
And they were far from the only ones. Food stalls and live cooking stations dotted the grounds in every direction, each offering something unique. Some served steaming meat pies and roasted corn, while others displayed sweet pastries glistening with honey, self-refilling chilled drinks, and exotic dishes representing magical communities from across the globe.
“Mmm… this is so good!” Isabella exclaimed, one hand holding half a shawarma while the other wiped the corner of her lips. Maverick chuckled at her delight, balancing two cups of a rich, frothy drink in his hands, what he assumed was a Turkish take on butterbeer, but every bit as good.
“Try it…” she said, bringing the other half closer to his mouth. He took a bite, and the taste was undeniably good, rich, flavorful, saucy, and spicy... in other words, a perfect shawarma.
“Don’t fill your belly all at once, honey… there are food stalls everywhere from all over the world,” Maverick reminded her as she turned back toward the stall. There were still a few hours before the game would start, and with nothing else pressing to do, they might as well enjoy the feast laid out before them.
“But it’s so good,” Isabella let out a dramatic exhale upon hearing him, then reluctantly turned away from the food stall. Indeed, the grounds were packed with food vendors of every kind, and she wanted to try them all, but alas, a human belly had its limits.
And just as the thoughts crossed her mind, her peripheral vision snagged on a familiar figure not far away. She murmured without thinking, “Is that Mr. Black…?” and gestured toward a nearby camping tent surrounded by mostly children and a few adults.
Hearing her, Maverick glanced in the same direction and saw that it was indeed the Mutt, but then his one brow lifted when he spotted someone he definitely had not expected to see here.
Sirius, the Weasley couple, and another man whom Maverick recognized as Amos Diggory stood among the adults. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Hogwarts’ pretty boy, Cedric Diggory, were there as well, along with, of course, an entire pack of redheads. What gave Maverick pause, however, was spotting Jean of all people among them. He was fairly certain the little witch-slash-mutant did not care for Quidditch in the slightest.
Did she bring the X-Men along as well? He entertained the thought briefly, then extended his magical sense, only to find nothing unusual.
Strange...
He didn’t recall her asking him to bring her, which meant she must have asked either Ron or Harry to have one of their adults pick her up. Most likely, it was Sirius.
Well, it didn’t really matter, and he shrugged the thought away. At least she was blending into the magical world and its culture, and he preferred it this way, since he did not want to always act as a middleman whenever she decided to stroll over to the magical side.
“Leave them be. We’re just a random Asian magical couple here for the game, remember?” Maverick said, gently tugging her arm and pulling her along toward another stall.
Because they were in disguise, no one paid them any real attention. On top of that, he had layered a subtle notice-me-not charm over them, masking their presence so that only the people they chose to interact with would truly register them.
And so, meandering from food stall to food stall and merchant to merchant, the couple savored the leisurely pace of the afternoon, until nearly two hours later, their bellies pleasantly full, Maverick paused near a modest tent on the northern fringe of the vast campsite, the stadium looming just beyond the slope ahead.
There was still some time before the match began, and until then, it was time for a brief rest, perhaps even a cool shower together. He had set up a tent beforehand, of course, and inside, like most of the camps, it was enchanted with subtle magic.
It was nothing outrageous like the setups of some wealthier families, just a comfortably spacious area for the two of them, with a small kitchenette, a bed in case the game dragged on, and, naturally, a bathroom.
"Ah… never thought I’d be this exhausted from just strolling around and eating…" Isabella collapsed onto the sofa, stretching out on her back, and Maverick settled beside her, resting his head gently in her lap.
At the same time, he snapped his fingers, undoing their disguises, and closed his eyes, content with the idea of taking a quick break. Even an archmage could grow weary after being dragged around for hours by a woman. Anyway, a short rest was the plan... so he thought.
"So… what’s her name?"
Merlin…
---
The stadium set up for the final game was massive, and from a glance, no one would have guessed it had been built in under a year. At first sight, it resembled a typical modern sports arena, but what set it apart were the spectator stands, rising impossibly high into the sky.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow across the ground. Noticing Isabella’s astonished expression, Maverick began to explain as they walked. “The former minister kicked off the project, and the current one saw it through to completion, adding a few of his own touches… expanding the capacity from 100,000 to 150,000, installing extra viewing screens at the VIP stands, and even setting up proper betting stations…”
“Are you sure it’s just him… and not you, Ricky, feeding him all those ideas?” Isabella asked, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
Chuckling, Maverick shrugged thoughtfully. Yes, he had given Greengrass a few tips here and there, mostly to help him squeeze a bit of extra gold out of the project.
As they strolled closer, the sounds of cheers, booming music, and the distant crackle of fireworks reached them, growing louder with each step toward the entrance.
It was Maverick’s first time also witnessing a Quidditch match on such a grand scale. He had attended major sporting events before, of course—inter-school Quidditch finals, his own competitions, and even, in his previous life, big football matches—but the thrill here, the sheer scale and energy of it all, was far greater, charged with an electricity that none of those could match.
And this year, the match would be witnessed not only by those present in person, but across the globe, thanks to him and the magic vision. His people were already spread throughout the grounds, covering the grand event, and fortunately, his reach had grown enough that he no longer needed to meddle with every single detail.
“I really hope it doesn’t drag on for days…” Isabella muttered.
“Hm… I have a feeling it won’t,” Maverick replied, stroking his chin as they reached the entrance, where a guard was checking tickets. Holding VVIP passes meant a separate entrance and almost no queue, and arriving at the last minute while most spectators had already gone inside made the process even faster.
And this time, he didn’t intend to slip by unnoticed. He handed over the documents, and the guard, after a quick glance from the tickets to their faces, offered a polite smile and waved them through. “Mr. Kim Jon Un and Mrs. Ri Sol Ju… welcome. Your tickets are approved.”
“Where are we seated?” Isabella asked as they made their way toward the rows of VVIP elevators. Inside, it was just as quiet as outside, and the couple had the elevator to themselves.
“At the very top,” Maverick replied.
“Will there be anyone else sitting with us?”
“Ah… should be a fair number. The entire top section is first-class, like a ring, but since we’re in disguise, hopefully no one will bother us.”
Isabella nodded happily, letting out a soft exhale, then tilted her head toward him and asked again, "And when exactly do things start getting interesting?"
Ding.
The door slid open, revealing a spacious lounge that stretched endlessly to the left and right. Seats were arranged with generous spacing, clustered mostly at the front near a sleek glass panel offering an unobstructed view of the stadium below.
A long buffet ran along the back, laden with delicacies from across the wizarding world, while soft, ambient lighting faded gently from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. Wizards and witches in an array of robes and attire from every corner of the globe moved about, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air.
Hearing her question, Maverick glanced at her briefly, a small smile curling his lips before he walked ahead again. "After the game, so I’ve been told. And we might even get to watch a full-on duel between two greatmagi…"
Comments
The_GrandMagus
Thank you for the chapter. Looking forward to reading more.
Matthew
Right? I had to remind myself that Ryan is writing this legitimately as a fanfiction, not TL. I think it's because of the crazy amount of HP translations that keep popping up on Novelupdates every other month this year. I think I've seen four in this month alone. Granted, one had a decent spin on "Hogwarts" and turned it in to a "sect". I haven't seen that before. While I personally love their food and have it at least once a week, I still get wary whenever I see British falling in love with Chinese food in TL HP Fanfiction. Magical Britain in the 90's at Hogwarts might find the food novel, but quickly dismissed. Much like "muggles" being quaint, clever children with their gadgets. After all, there were only three "named" asians in the Canon version and all of them were still eating full English breakfasts without complaint. The first change in fare was in fourth year, and it still got poked fun at by JKR.
ahmarijah
Am I the only one who gets nervous when I see the Mc start going Asian? I was so glad when i saw it was a Korean name I almost wept. I think mtl’s have traumatized me.
