Chapter 616: The Quidditch World Cup
"Welcome! Welcome!"
The wizard greeting them was a silver-haired man radiating vitality. Standing
beneath a massive beech tree, he looked like a bear emerging from a long
winter's nap.
"Mr. Marcus," the two young wizards greeted him.
Hermione and Justin immediately began scanning their surroundings with cautious,
seeking eyes.
"Oho..." Grandpa Marcus caught the look. His eyes twinkled with a mischievous
glint as he beckoned them toward the manor house.
"Mr. Marcus, where's Sean?" Hermione asked as they passed a stone fountain.
"Ah, I haven't actually told him you arrived thirty minutes early... It'll be a
lovely surprise, won't it?" Marcus leaned back, his hands on his hips, looking
thoroughly delighted with himself.
"Perhaps," Hermione said, though she looked a bit skeptical.
As they walked, they watched a pair of self-operating garden shears meticulously
trimming the hedges. Nearby, a stone basin floated in the air, spraying a
rhythmic jet of water into the pond. Hermione and Justin watched, their eyes
wide.
"Simple household magic," Marcus explained as they walked. "The farm wasn't
always like this, you see. Half the McGonagall clan are Muggles. We've always
been good neighbors to them...
"But things have changed recently. Wizards and Muggles need to keep their
distance for a while. Muggles aren't equipped to handle the kind of 'accidents'
following us around these days."
"Is the situation... that bad?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Just right for an Auror," Marcus winked. "You lot should be worrying about
whether you can fit another bowl of stew in your bellies, not about the business
of adults. When you're grown, you'll have plenty of time for worrying."
Hermione puffed out her cheeks, wanting to tell the old wizard exactly how many
"adult adventures" they had already survived, but she held her tongue. Marcus
watched them, his gaze turning pensive and deep.
He pushed open the front doors, revealing a spacious, sunlit parlor.
At a rustic long table, a spread of food—mostly sweets—was laid out. A pitcher
of pumpkin juice was bubbling rhythmically. At the table sat three wizards: one
large, one small, and one very small.
Sean was taking a slow sip of his juice, his other hand resting on a book that
had been magically disguised to look like a standard textbook. In reality, it
was Secrets of the Darkest Art.
Gellert Grindelwald was a capricious mentor, but his lessons were meticulously
planned. Every task he assigned Sean was a brick in a new foundation of
understanding. Step by step, Sean was beginning to feel a different resonance
within the Dark Arts.
Beside him sat Minerva. She was reading the Daily Prophet, her tea pouring
itself from a hovering pot. At the far end of the table, only a tuft of blonde
hair was visible—that would be Zoe, who was currently forcing herself to read
through a difficult volume on magical theory.
The moment their footsteps echoed in the hall, Sean looked up. He saw Hermione
standing with her arms crossed and a defiant tilt to her chin, with a warmly
smiling Justin behind her.
"Morning," Sean said with a small smile. He didn't look particularly surprised.
"Miss Granger, Mr. Finch-Fletchley."
Minerva set her paper down and fixed them with a sharp look. Instantly, Hermione
and Justin went rigid.
"Would you like some pumpkin juice?" Minerva asked.
They both gave a jerky, synchronized nod.
As she headed into the kitchen, Justin cautiously leaned over the table toward
Sean.
"So..."
"Ahem!"
Hermione gave a sharp cough, and Justin quickly exchanged a knowing look with
Sean.
Life at the McGonagall farm was even more comfortable than Hermione and Justin
had anticipated. The wizarding world was the gold standard for self-sufficiency
and simple joy. After settling in, the pair spent most of their time figuring
out how to navigate Grandpa Marcus's overwhelming Highland hospitality.
But beyond the food, living under the same roof as a professor was a surreal
experience. Slowly, they realized that their Transfiguration Professor was not
exactly the same person they knew at school.
They saw her bicker with her uncle over gardening. They saw her laugh heartily
at a clever comic in the paper. And most surprisingly, they would occasionally
find a tabby cat sunning itself on top of a haystack in the barn.
"I never realized Professor McGonagall could be so..." Hermione whispered to
Justin, her face turning pink. "...cute."
"The Tabby Lady is full of surprises," Justin grinned.
Privately, they had given her a code name to distinguish the "Home Minerva" from
the "Hogwarts Minerva."
The Tabby Lady.
Hermione found the secret moniker exhilarating. She finally understood why Harry
and Ron got such a kick out of calling Snape "The Dungeon Bat."
However, they soon ran into a familiar problem: they still couldn't find Sean.
Aside from mealtimes, the young wizard was a ghost. He would vanish into the
morning mist before dawn and wouldn't return until the stars were out.
Fortunately, the farm was home to several very sentient cats, which kept them
entertained.
"Sarah! Come back here!"
Hermione chased a small Kneazle across the parlor. The cat had just made off
with Hermione's wand in its mouth. The McGonagalls were clearly a "cat family";
Marcus had even referred to the kitten as his granddaughter once.
Sarah was well aware of her status as the household's darling. She was a
terror—mischievous, fast, and prone to creating automated chaos. Had it not been
for a steady supply of treats, Hermione would never have caught her.
Compared to Sarah, the kitten named Bard was a saint. He spent his days grooming
his paws in silence or hitching a ride on a human's shoulder for a walk.
"Got you!"
Hermione triumphantly caught Sarah by the tail. The cat gave a playful wiggle
and began rolling around on the floor.
"I swear, sometimes you look like you're a real witch in there," Hermione
muttered, staring into the cat's intelligent eyes.
Sean, who had just entered the room, watched the scene with a flicker of
hesitation. He debated telling Hermione that Sarah actually was a young
McGonagall witch in her Animagus-form-in-training. He decided against it.
Hermione would enjoy solving that puzzle on her own.
"Sean?"
Justin seemed to have a "Sean-Radar." He looked up from the kitchen table the
moment the boy entered.
"Morning," Sean said.
"The Quidditch World Cup is starting soon," Justin said, gesturing with a
spatula toward the kitchen. "We were supposed to go to Hermione's first, but
Marcus's invitation changed the schedule... so we're all heading to the Cup
together. Who exactly is in our 'group'?"
"I'm not sure," Sean admitted. He realized with a jolt that time was moving far
faster than he'd noticed.
A full month had already passed. In that time, his Fiendfyre proficiency had
reached the one-third mark. The Legendary tier was no longer a distant dream.
The Void Rune was recovering well too; he estimated he'd be able to return to
the Lands Between in less than two weeks.
"Time slips away when you're busy," Justin smiled, handing Sean a freshly baked
square of mousse.
"Mmm."
Sean realized he needed to check with Professor McGonagall about the logistics.
Personally, he didn't want a large group heading to the World Cup; it was a
security nightmare waiting to happen.
"Ron and Harry mentioned..."
Justin was cut off by a chime from his mirror. Ron Weasley's face appeared,
surrounded by several other heads of flaming red hair.
"Ireland's a dead cert to win," Charlie Weasley was saying, his mouth full of
potatoes. "They flattened Peru in the semi-finals."
"Bulgaria's got Viktor Krum, though," Fred countered.
"Krum is one man, Fred. Ireland has seven world-class players," Charlie said
impatiently. "I just wish England had qualified. Absolute disgrace, it was. Lost
to Transylvania ten to three-hundred-and-ninety."
Charlie looked miserable. "Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland got hammered by
Luxembourg. It's a bad year for the home nations."
"Sean! Sean!" Ron and Harry shoved their way to the center of the frame. "Are
you lot coming to the Cup?"
"We are," Justin answered for the group.
"Brilliant!" Ron cheered. "Message us when you arrive! We'll pitch our tents
next to each other!"
"RON!"
A voice called from the background, and the mirror went dark.
At dinner, before Sean could even ask, Marcus brought it up.
"It's a grand event. We're all going," Marcus announced. "We've got a massive
tent. Everyone will be there. I hope you lot won't be too shocked when you see
who our 'neighbors' are."
The three students exchanged confused looks. It wasn't until late that night
that Minerva picked up her own mirror to finalize the plans.
"We have a private tent. Room for three is more than enough," she said.
"I'll be there," a low, silky voice replied from the other side.
"As expected." Minerva looked surprised, but relieved. "It will be our first
real excursion in years." Her sharp features softened as she looked at the image
of the man who had been a source of worry since they were both children.
The mirror went silent.
"It's dangerous out there, Severus. Be careful. The boy will worry if you
aren't," Minerva added before cutting the connection.
The next morning was freezing. A pale, grey-green light touched the horizon,
signaling a reluctant dawn while the moon still hung high in the sky.
Sean thought about the hundreds of thousands of wizards descending on a single
location. He had never seen magic on that scale before.
Hermione was muffling her face against the wind; Justin was blowing on his
hands. They followed Marcus and Minerva through the frost-covered fields.
"Mr. Marcus, how do they hide all this from the Muggles?" Hermione asked. "One
hundred thousand people is a lot to miss."
"The logistics are a nightmare," Marcus said happily. "The Ministry has been
working on this for months. You can't just fit a hundred thousand wizards into
Diagon Alley or Platform 9¾.
"They found a desolate moor and warded the hell out of it. First, they staggered
the arrivals—people with cheap seats had to get there two weeks early. Some used
Muggle transport, but the Ministry had to limit the numbers so they didn't swarm
the Muggle trains. World-wide travelers, remember.
"Then there's Apparition, but you have to establish safe-zones away from Muggle
eyes. Most use Portkeys. They're objects enchanted to transport groups at a
specific time. There are two hundred of 'em scattered across Britain. The
closest one to us is... well, in my pocket."
"What does a Portkey look like?" Justin asked.
"Anything that looks like rubbish," Marcus grinned. "Old boots, rusty cans...
things Muggles won't pick up and play with."
"So, which one are we taking?" Hermione asked. "The Portkey?"
"Of course not! We're Apparating!" Marcus said without hesitation.
"What?!" Hermione gasped.
"Oh, have you lot not sat your tests yet?" Marcus teased. He'd been waiting for
this. "I assumed you'd all passed. Little Green here passed his on the third day
of training. Shortest practice period on record. The Department of Education
gave him a special dispensation for an 'Exemplary' rating."
Minerva reached over and gave Marcus a sharp poke in the ribs to stop his
rambling. The old wizard let out an 'Ouch' and went quiet.
"Take a sip of this," Minerva said, handing around a small phial of potion.
"First-time Side-Along Apparition is rarely a pleasant experience."
Looking at her kind eyes, Justin and Hermione realized their previous "Strict
Professor" image of her was falling apart.
"Take Marcus's hand," Minerva instructed them after they'd finished the potion.
Then, she naturally reached out and took Sean's hand in her own.
"But... Sean can Apparate on his own, can't he?" Hermione asked.
"His technique," Minerva said, her tone brookng no argument, "is still quite...
unrefined."
Marcus blinked, thinking to himself that she was lying through her teeth. One
does not get an 'Exemplary' rating for being unrefined.
"Right then, children! Ready? Hold tight! We're off!"
Marcus's laugh was the last thing they heard before the world twisted into a
kaleidoscope of shadow and light.