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Harry Potter Squib Tales Chapter 94: Quidditch World Cup (Part 2)
🕑 Added 2025-11-10 17:01:26 +0000 UTCChapter 94: Quidditch World Cup (Part 2)
“Ah, cheer up, pup!” Sirius said, trying to get Harry out of the dumps. “It’ll be fine!”
“She’s not talking to me,” Harry said despondently as they walked into the stadium.
“It’s one fight, your relationship isn’t over,” I reassured him. “Trust me, I know. Delilah and I fight, and it’s not the end of the world for us.”
“You do?” Harry asked, looking up at me in disbelief. “I’ve never seen you two argue!”
“We argue plenty. Like, Ed insists on wearing the same thing every time we go out to dinner at my parents! He has other things, he just refuses to switch it up a little!” Delilah huffed at my side.
“And Delly doesn’t like it when I call her ‘Delly,’” I added, causing her to pout and poke my sides.
I chucked, then continued. “We just don’t fight around other people. And we make up afterwards.”
“Yeah, we do,” she said with a saucy grin, and I chuckled while Harry turned red as a beet.
“Sometimes, though, a bit of space is necessary before you start trying to apologize and make it up to someone,” I cautioned. “Give her a day or two to cool down. She didn’t immediately breakup with you, so there’s still a chance.”
“Okay,” Harry said, still somewhat down, but no longer moping around completely.
Seeing his spirits get lifted, I passed him a pair of Omnioculars. “Go and have fun with your friends,” I urged. “And don’t forget to cheer for your pen pal.”
Harry nodded at that and scurried off to find Ron, Neville, and Hermione.
“Here,” I said, passing out a couple more Omnioculars to the others around me.
I’d cleared out the entire supply of Omnioculars at three different stalls, netting me nearly one thousand copies of the incredible things! I of course gave some to the families who came with us, and to anyone else in the group who needed one, but that still left me with hundreds to tinker and experiment with, as well as outfit my security forces with a couple.
The Omnioculars were quite fascinating standardized enchanted items. It was an interesting thing to see, as you rarely saw magical objects made in a uniform way. Outside of brooms, self-stirring cauldrons, and magical paintings, most enchanted artifacts were bespoke and custom crafted.
How these ‘mass produced’ items worked was the instructions for making them were given to apprentice enchanters to replicate, who’d then make them and sell them. As for the person who owned the original patent for making them? They received a portion of the profits made from their sale, and could also sell access to the patent for a fee.
It was sort of like how the Potters received royalties from potioneers who used the Fleamont Potter-brand Sleekeazy hair potion recipe. Harry didn’t need to make the potions himself, people paid him for the privilege.
‘Considering how many I’ve bought, I’ve probably paid for quite a few retirements and holidays,’ I thought to myself with a tiny, amused smile.
I then began to help the Muggleborn and their families find their seats, and swapped mundane money for wizarding cash so they could buy snacks and stuff.
The sun had set and the stars were out, but magical lights made it so the whole arena and the expanded space it rested inside were fully illuminated with dozens of orbs of starlight and floating lamps.
‘I wonder how the game will turn out this time?’ I wondered to myself as I wandered the stands a bit, ensuring everyone was where they should be.
The odds of the Quidditch match ending the same way, with Krum catching the Snitch but Ireland still winning overall, were quite low, thanks to my meddling with history.
The last time I bet on a sporting event, things changed slightly. How? I wasn’t sure, as I certainly never met the players before, but regardless, tiny butterflies had flapped their wings and altered events enough that Denmark did not win the Football World Cup uncontested with a 2-0 score.
It had been a warning, and one I understood well. Events would not follow the same path I knew, especially not with me having destroyed the Horcruxes early and Harry’s fate being broken in his Second Year.
And then I spotted the Weasley Twins speaking with Ludo Bagman, and frowned. I hastily made my way there before they could get scammed. As I got closer, I was able to hear the tail end of their conversation.
“…and it will be over before they can react!” Fred said proudly.
“Ah, so eager, so enthusiastic!” Bagman chortled. “Well, if that’s the bet you want to make…”
“Hold on, boys,” I said, stepping in between Fred and George before they could give their money to the debt riddled Ministry official.
“EH? Ed?!” George gasped when he saw who I was. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Making sure Mrs. Weasley doesn’t tan your hides when she finds out you’re gambling,” I said, before flashing Bagman an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sir, but these boys’ mother wanted me to make sure they wouldn’t get into trouble, and I fear underaged betting would be one such thing she’d have my head for if it happened.”
“A-ah, yes, of course,” Bagman said, coughing nervously. “W-wouldn’t want that!”
He then quickly left, causing the twins to glare at me.
“Oi, what was-”
“-That for, Ed?” the twins demanded in tandem.
“Ludo Bagman is a debt riddled fool on the run from goblin moneylenders,” I said in a low voice, leading them away by the shoulders. “If you gave him any cash you’d never seen your winnings.”
They looked shocked at that, before gaining angry and frustrated looks.
“But then how are we supposed to-”
“-Get money for our…” they began, but I held up my hands.
“Your prank items are amazing, you two, and your dream is just as ambitious, but trying to use unofficial betting rings is asking for trouble,” I warned them.
“But we’re underaged,” Fred complained.
“None of the legal ones will accept us,” George added.
I sighed, then looked around to make sure nobody we knew was nearby. “Fine. Come with me.”
I led them to the bookie stalls, where some last-minute bets were still being made.
“I’ll put money down on your behalf,” I told the duo. “Give me your coins and I do it for you.”
They blinked at me, surprised, and I smirked. “Just because I’m an adult now doesn’t mean I have to stop having fun. But there will be conditions for me doing this.”
“What are they?” George inquired cautiously while Fred looked eager to agree right away.
“First off, never tell your parents – or Percy – that it was me,” I urged them, and they nodded solemnly. “Second, try to spend a bit of your winnings on some nice things for your brothers and sister, okay? And third, if you ever do plan on starting your own business, come to me or Sirius. We’ll help you with the contracts and legalese.”
The duo shared a look then agreed to my words with a “Deal!” and shook on it before handing over their coin purses.
“So, what bet do you want me to make?” I inquired as I jingled the hefty pouches.
“Based on the data-”
“-and the evidence-”
“and our own gut feelings, it will be a draw,” the twins explained in low voices. “Right before Ireland gets a hundred and sixty points, Krum will catch the Snitch.”
“Interesting. What makes you say that?” I wondered.
“Bulgaria’s team sucks,” the twins said in unison.
“Only reason they got this far was thanks to Krum,” George claimed. “Their Keeper can barely stop a Quaffle, and their Beaters are strong but too inaccurate to aim the Bludgers properly. The Chasers are decent, but only due to their speedy brooms. Krum may have joined them last year at the age of sixteen, but he’s shown to be a natural Seeker, with a lot of skill and talent.”
“In contrast, Ireland has the best team it has had in decades,” Fred continued. “The Keeper used to be a Beater and can punch Quaffles if he has to, while the Beaters are lovers and know how to coordinate properly. As for the Chasers, they are insanely talented. They are triplets, and share the unique bond we do, letting them coordinate in ways nobody can compete with. Ireland’s only weak point is their own Seeker, whose eyesight is beginning to dull. He’ll need corrective lens or surgery soon, but is too proud to admit it.”
“Thus, if Krum manages to shake Ireland’s Seeker off and see the Snitch first, then it will be a draw,” they concluded.
I nodded slowly. I wasn’t as up-to-date with Quidditch as the twins seemed to be, so I only had their word to go off of, but it seemed logical, and they had correctly predicted how the game would go in the original timeline.
Deciding to trust them, I made my way to the bookies. There were several of them, all officially licensed to do business. One was with the Quidditch World League, and some were run by the various magical governments and their sports departments. Lastly, there were the private yet legal gambling rings, such as the Las Vegas stall all the way from the United States.
Checking the numbers, I put the boy’s money down at two of them: the QWL’s bookie stand, and the Las Vegas one. The former had ironclad, magically enforced contracts to pay out, and the Las Vegas bookies had better odds.
Lastly, I slapped a couple bets of my own down with different bookies, before taking the receipt stubs with me.
“I’ll hold onto these, and pay you after the Cup so your parents don’t wonder why you are walking around with fists full of galleons,” I told them as I carefully tucked the slips of parchment into pockets. “But if you win, remember to uphold your side of the bargain!”
“Roger!” the twins saluted, and we hurried back to the seats before anybody missed us.
We returned just in time, too, as the advertisements were wrapping up and the mascots were about to come out to play. Everyone was impressed by the Leprechauns and the gold coin shower, though I – and a couple others, mostly women – had to snap our fingers loudly to get the menfolk out of the Allure-induced daze when the Bulgarian cheerleaders came out.
“What was that?” Mr. Creevy asked, cheeks red as his wife pinched them.
“Those are Veela, and that was their Allure,” I explained. “Veela are a race of magical people, similar to goblins and centaurs and giants. They can, among other things, create an aura that makes people attracted to them.”
“Really?” Mr. Finch-Fletchley asked. “That seems a bit… dangerous.”
“Eh, it’s not that bad, so long as you have a decently strong mind. The Allure is simply an inherited ability, like Parseltongue or Metamorphmagi. It doesn’t make them any different from normal people.” Seeing the skeptical looks, I added, “You met the Delacours, right? The ladies were Veela, but they could suppress this ability. All Veela can, with training. Completely like you or me, they just have some extra bits.”
Hearing that the lovely French housewife and her children had been magical people capable of this ‘Allure’ was a surprise, but the Delacours had been perfectly nice, and aside from being a bit more beautiful than normal, there hadn’t been anything wrong with them.
“Though I always wondered why Bulgaria’s team had Veela mascots when they lie in the domain of the Nordic League,” I mused, mostly to myself as the game began.
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Thomas asked, and several other parents leaned in curiously.
“The Nordic League consists of many Germanic and Slavic countries,” I explained. “And they are quite racist and speciesist. That means they dislike Muggles and Muggleborn, and all non-humans, no matter how intelligent they may be. Seeing Veela like this… it’s like seeing the Nazis have Jewish cheerleaders.”
That comparison had the Muggleborn families all wince, and give the scene below another look in a different lens.
“That would be because Bulgaria is currently experiencing a bit of a political and cultural shift, young man,” somebody commented, and I looked over at the speaker a couple seats over.
It was an older woman, greying hair and wrinkles, and with hard eyes who had seen dark times. A handknitted shawl was draped around her shoulders, and she had cane in her hands that likely doubled as a staff or wand. She also had a strong Eastern European accent, which told me about where she came from.
“I did not know that, ma’am,” I said politely. No reason to be rude. “Could you explain what you mean?”
“The current Bulgarian political landscape is changing, in parts thanks to the fall of that Wall of Berlin,” the grandmother explained, her thick accent slurring some of her English. “Many youths grew up in country while Soviets ran thing, having to hide from red sickle bastards, remember the fear of not knowing if we could trust the Muggleborn, but also experienced what freedom is like when that Wall fell.”
She spat at the mention of the Communists before continuing. “Is true, we see cruelty of Muggles, but also see what else can be done with open policy. We survive, we see what things are like with evil, and what they are like without evil. Many older people remember Grindelwald, too. See how there no difference between evil men. No need magic or wands to do bad things. Just a bad heart.”
The grandmother spat again as she spoke Grindelwald’s name. “Youth want change. Is their nature. And some politicians see that old ways kill. Less magical children born every year. Have to accept Muggleborn and their ways, or we sink underneath tides of future.”
I nodded slowly, intrigued to hear firsthand what it was like in another magical community right now. I knew that the magical community in Russia had been gutted thanks to the Red Revolution, just like the Chinese mages, but what about the other people, the ones who lived in the Soviet Union’s satellite states?
‘Seems like the Cold War affected things more than I expected,’ I thought.
I could only imagine how much more secretive and fearful the Eastern European mages would have had to be in order to survive the USSR death squads and secret police. It sadly made sense how this fear could turn to hate for the Muggles.
“And the Veela cheerleaders are an attempt to change things? To showcase that Bulgaria is willing to leave their Nordic sensibilities behind?” Delilah inquired curiously.
“What better way than show we willing to leave past behind than by letting people we used to shun stand with us?” the grandma asked rhetorically. “Is not the best way, but better than nothing, eh?”
“That makes sense,” I murmured. Gotta start somewhere, right?
“Edward Rose,” I said, offering her my hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you. And thank you for the explanation. It was enlightening.”
“Polite young man,” she chuckled, taking my hand with her own. “Maria Khavan.”
We exchanged a few more pleasantries, but soon had our attention taken by the whistle that announced the start of the game.
I was not exactly the most knowledgeable about Quidditch, nor did I really like the sport, but after hearing from the twins about their analysis of the two teams, I had to agree that they knew what they were talking about.
Bulgaria… Bulgaria kinda sucked. Their teamwork was awful, Krum nearly getting hit by his own Beaters, and more than once a Chaser got in the Keeper’s way, resulting in the Quaffle going in and Ireland scoring a point.
‘Is their lack of skills a result of the heavy restrictions they’ve been under in order to avoid being spotted by the Communists?’ I wondered. I couldn’t get the words of the old lady out of my head. Perhaps the Cold War had done a lot more damage to the magical communities than I was aware of.
The game continued, and slowly but surely the Irish team scored goal after goal. By the time they hit a hundred points, it was clear the Bulgarians were panicking.
When the Irish Chasers managed to land their fifteenth goal in a row and hit a hundred and fifty points, I sat up straighter in my seat. Now was the moment of truth. Would the twins’ predication come true? Would something else happen?
Krum was zipping around, leading the Irish Seeker on a wild goose chase. It was interesting to watch the crowd go wild as the two men weaved through the air, chasing the faintest glimmer of the Snitch.
Then, just when the Irish Chasers got ahold of the Quaffle once more, Krum suddenly began to dive down, aiming at a flicker of gold dancing around the base of the Bulgarian hoops.
“There he goes,” I murmured. Would he snag the Snitch before the Irish scored? Or would the Bulgarian Keeper fail to stop his sixteenth goal in row?
Seeing Krum zooming full tilt, the Irish Seeker took after him, trying to rush in and snatch the golden orb, but Krum did some sort of corkscrew spin that had him speed up somehow. Nearby, I heard Harry say something about Krum using his trick, but I was too busy watching what was about to happen.
I saw the lumpy red ball soar through the air, and the Bulgarian Keeper screw up his positioning, meaning the Quaffle would soar past him and through a hoop. I also saw Krum’s finger close around a golden orb with wings.
Referee whistles ring out through the stadium, shrill and loud, and a tremendous roar goes up from the audience as the World Cup match ends in a draw.
“Wow,” I muttered, leaning back in my seat. I felt the adrenaline leave me. “The twins are rich, now.”
The odds for a draw had been ridiculously low, thus the payout for such a thing was absurd. Draws were extremely rare in this sport for a couple reasons, mainly due to how the Snitch gave so many points and ended the game outright. In fact, I don’t think there were protocols for what happens in the event there’s a draw in an official match. Did they have a sudden death match or would they just split the trophy?
‘Has a World Cup ever ended with a draw?’ I wondered to myself. Surely it had to have done so at one point?
Either way, Fred and George had just won several tens of thousands of galleons, each.
We watched the awards ceremony where both teams were given a golden trophy (apparently they just considered both teams winners in the event of a draw) and the crowd just keep cheering and going crazy. I heard comments that this would go down in history, and I was glad I’d recorded it with a pair of Omnioculars. I bet I could sell the memories, too.
Once that was all done, we headed back to the campsite. We’d eaten dinner before heading to the stadium, but watching the game had worked up an appetite, so I got out ingredients for smores and passed them around.
The campfire quickly got crowded with kids wanting their turn, and I laughed as I watched a couple run around in a panic as they set their marshmallows on fire.
“That was fun,” I said to Delilah, putting an arm around her, and she nodded.
“Very exciting,” she agreed. “And a great way to introduce people to the magical side of things.”
Delilah then blinked and spotted somebody nearby. “Hey, is that the old lady you were talking to earlier?”
I looked towards where she was pointing, and indeed, the nice old Eastern European granny was sitting in front of a tiny little cooking fire, a cauldron of stew bubbling away.
“I didn’t know she was in our section,” I hummed. I didn’t see a tent, but maybe she was going to set up later? Or go home soon now that it was over.
Deciding to be neighborly, I walked over to her spot and greeted her. “Evening, ma’am.”
“Ah, hello, hello,” Maria Khavan replied, looking up with a smile. “You’re the young fellow from the match, yes?”
“I am. My group is over there, and I was wondering if you’d care to join us,” I offered.
She tilted her head and then nodded, waving her cane. The pot of stew she was cooking floated up and followed us as we returned.
When we arrived, some other familiar faces showed up. The Weasleys had somehow found us, perhaps led there by the Lovegoods, and the Delacours were there as well. I also spotted Neville and his grandmother.
“My, how lively,” Maria said with a fond smile.
“Not one for big crowds, but sometimes it’s nice. From time to time. On rare occasions,” I said, and she cackled a little.
“Indeed!” she chortled. “Now, who wants stew? It’s a family recipe!”
She proceeded to pass out free stew to everyone who wanted any, and I had to say, it was very good. The beef was tender, the stew itself was rich and creamy, and somehow the potatoes and carrots were just the right amount of soggy yet crispy at the same time.
“Did you put an expanded space charm on the cauldron?” I asked her. It hadn’t depleted at all, even after feeding several dozen people.
“Why yes, I did,” Maria confirmed.
“I wasn’t aware you could put them on things that are always open to the elements,” I admitted. “I’ve only seen Expansion charms used on things that can be closed, like rooms, bags, and trunks.”
“There’s a trick to it,” she revealed. “Not only expanding, space can be folded. So, what you do is create an expanded space, then fold it. After that, you anchor the folded space inside an object.”
“Oh! Because the space is folded, it’s a self-contained pocket dimension, and thus not at risk of unraveling or having everything inside spill out, but it still works like an expanded space!” I realized, seeing how it worked. “It would make the whole thing far more stable, too!”
“You’re a clever young man, aren’t you?” Maria said, reaching up and pinching my cheek fondly.
I chuckled a little at that, pleased but also somewhat embarrassed by the praise. The old lady smirked, and then wandered off to chat with Madam Longbottom. Grannies chatting with each other won’t lead to anything terrible, right? How much trouble could the two of them get up to?
‘And speaking of trouble,’ I mused, glancing at Harry and his friends.
Hermione was, with far too much Schadenfreude, retelling the events between Harry, Gabi, Astoria, and Luna to an amused Ron and Neville.
Harry just looked absolutely done with everything, his expression dead and full of despair. Even as Gabi and Luna both hung off of both of his arms.
‘Poor boy,’ I thought sarcastically. ‘Well, at least this will help train Harry to get used to woman cozying up to him.’
He was going to have to deal with wily women who only wanted him for his fame, money, and status as a noble far too soon. Knowing how to identify it, and get used to women throwing themselves at him in various ways, would only help in the long run.
“Sooo!” Fred said, sidling up to my side.
“What did we win?” George asked, arriving at my other side.
“You two are rich. Congrats,” I drawled. “Come on, let’s go get your money before you burst at the seams.”
The two nodded excitedly, and while Molly and Arthur were distracted by the mundane adults, we snuck off to the betting tents.
Quite a few people were crowding around them, some angry at their loses, other bubbling with excitement as they cashed in their receipts.
I managed to push my way to the front and slapped the parchment slips down at the League booth. Then, once they gave me the winnings in discreet mokeskin pouches to hide how much they were actually giving away, I repeated this at the Las Vegas booth.
That done, I took the twins away from the rowdy groups and made our way to a spot that was mostly empty.
“Here you boys go,” I said, handing over their winnings. “Keep the receipts, just to make sure they didn’t stiff ya. Shouldn’t have, but you never know.”
The twins eagerly opened up their bags, eyes wide as they took in the glimmer of gold coins. Thanks to their bet of a draw, the red-headed duo were now the proud owners of thirty-one and a half thousand galleons. Each.
I may have added some money of my own to the Weasley twins’ as a sort of late Birthday gift, but honestly, the odds for a draw had been huge. A thousand to one, at the Las Vegas booth.
Chuckling at the way the two of them were staring with dropped jaws at the money that would be able to bring their dreams of a store to life, I checked my own winnings. Going off of the twins’ advice, I decided to drop a substantial bet. And now, I had a little over half a million galleons thanks to putting down money at a bunch of different bookies! Not in cash, of course. That much money would be hard to handle. Instead, it’d be sent to my account in Gringotts directly.
‘Let me think… I should invest this money into my alchemical studies,’ I thought to myself.
I was currently researching a way to create an alchemical ritual that combined the Philosopher’s Stone ritual and the energy transmutation ritual. This way, I could create magical batteries for charging and powering wards, runes, and other rituals. Once this happened, I wouldn’t need to use Leylines for all of my different magical properties and projects.
Putting the receipts away, I glanced at the twins. “Pleased with the outcome?”
“Yes,” George said, still somewhat dumbfounded. Fred remained speechless.
“Remember what I said. If you’re really determined to turn your joke items into a business, Sirius and I will be happy to help,” I told the two of them. “Now pick your jaws off the ground and hide those purses. Don’t want your parents finding out you were gambling.”
“You were gambling. We were just impressionable youths swayed by your criminal wiles,” Fred said, snapping back to normal at the mention of Molly Weasley.
“Cute,” I drawled. “But that won’t work on me.”
The twins shrugged, but wisely followed my instructions and put their winnings away out of sight.
Satisfied by that, we started to head back, when all of a sudden there was a loud scream that ripped through the air, followed by lots of shouting.
A green blast of light shot upwards from somewhere off in the distance, and at first I thought it was a firework, but the sinister green energy exploded into the symbol of a skull with a serpent emerging from it.
“The Dark Mark! Death Eaters!” I hissed, recognizing the emblem of Voldemort’s minions.
What was happening?! This was happening earlier than in canon, and the Death Eaters hadn’t thrown up the Dark Mark. That had been Crouch Junior’s thing when he stole Ron’s wand!
Where the spell had come from, I could see a commotion happening, with pointed black hoods just barely visible over the heads of the crowd.
I grabbed the twins by the arms and began dragging them back to the campsite, not wanting to get caught up in whatever was about to happen.
Thankfully, several more spells were shooting into the sky. Flares, and what appeared to be a heavy-duty Finite that was erasing the Dark Mark from the sky.
The chaos was getting worse, though, spreading in ripples out from the center of the action, and more and more people were panicking and throwing themselves as far away from the incident as possible. This, unfortunately, only resulted in more chaos as the people who didn’t know what was happening just followed the herd and panicked because others were doing the same.
Not daring to stop, I kept pulling the boys along until we reached the campsite again. Sirius, Remus, Molly, and Arthur had reacted by drawing their wands, their memories of fighting in the war against Voldemort reminding them what to do whenever the Dark Mark appeared.
They were ushering the rest of the group back to the tents, where it would be somewhat safer to be if a firefight broke out.
“Where’s Maria?” I asked, looking around in concern as I delivered the twins to their worried mother.
“She left a few minutes ago, said she was going to visit a friend,” Remus said, eyes darting around. “Ed, what happened?”
“Death Eaters – or people dressed as them – sent up the Dark Mark near the stadium,” I told him. “Before that, though, I think they did something else, because there was a lot of screaming. I wasn’t close enough to see what happened, though.”
“Well, somebody is already taking the ugly thing down,” Sirius grunted, glancing up at the ugly green mark that was already fading away.
“Amelia set up a bunch of Aurors before the match. I believe she is taking control of the situation right now,” Remus said, pride but also a hint of worry in his voice for his lover.
“For now, all we can do is wait,” Arthur claimed, joining the conversation. “We should stay here and prepare.”
“Yeah. Some barriers, maybe a quick ward or two,” Sirius agreed.
Nodding at each other, the men began to throw up a few enchantments that would keep people away from the campsite. It was more of a crowd control thing, designed to push somebody back if they got too close, or urge them to run around instead of straight through.
Watching them work was inspiring, and after a bit they finished, minor protective charms all in place, alongside a couple alarms that would warn us if something broke the other wards.
“Won’t keep anybody out who is determined enough, but it will give us a heads up,” Arthur said with a satisfied nod.
“Then we better keep watch,” I said, earning a nod.
For several minutes we waited nervously for something to happen. I half expected some Death Eaters to try and rush us in an attempt to attack the Boy Who Lived, but to my relief, nothing like that happened.
Half an hour later, we were starting to relax when a broom flew overhead, a witch riding on it.
“ATTENTION! ATTENTION! THE DISRUPTION HAS BEEN TAKEN CARE OF! I REPEAT, IT IS ALL SAFE, NOW!”
She continued to shout this, informing everyone that the problem was over, but noticeably not saying anything else.
“No mention of it being Death Eaters who caused the chaos,” I noted.
“Ministry probably wants to keep it quiet,” Arthur said.
“Can they?” Sirius wondered. “This is an international incident!”
“Well, they’ll probably be able to keep it quiet here,” Arthur replied. “Might lean on some people to keep it out of the papers, or downplay it.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered, sharing a look with Sirius.
Between us, we controlled many shares of various magical magazines and publishing companies, to say nothing of the Daily Prophet. The Ministry wouldn’t be able – or allowed – to cover this up. Not on our watch!
Now that the chaos was dying down, we let the rest of our group out of the tents, reassuring them that it was just a bit of drunken post-game shenanigans gone wrong. Consider we were all British, we were all used to our fair share of football hooligans kicking off riots in the wake of a game.
I decided to keep an ear to the ground, though. I wanted to know what exactly had changed this time around thanks to my help in throwing canon off the rails. I needed to be prepared for anything!
Comments
Ian Rodgers
No Wronski feint in this timeline. Too many ripples have diverted the path.
Alatoic
So no Wonski faint? ;-) or Ed just skip it? Also great idea of the Omnioculars, really not used considering the security applications, even as a form of entertainment. The Explanation of the Bulgarians and the geopolitical structure is quite interesting, explain a lot. Wonder what changes happened?
