The next day, we injected our sleep-deprived bodies, exhausted from karaoke that had gone on until late at night, with "Energy Explosion Potion," then headed straight to the Quidditch World Cup stadium via the "Portkey" set up in the courtyard of the Circle.
In the early morning, before the sun had fully risen, we advanced for about twenty minutes across a desolate wasteland shrouded in mist, until a venue lined with hundreds of tents came into view.
I parted ways with everyone there and moved on to the section where American witches and wizards had gathered.
Because there are many people of Irish descent in America, the overall atmosphere strongly favored Ireland, with numerous banners featuring their symbol, the three-leaf clover.
Passing by middle-aged wizards who were cheerfully absorbed in predicting the outcome beneath a glowing banner reading "Salem Witches' Association," I followed a gently flowing stream and walked to the edge of a small forest, where an especially large cotton tent came into view.
(This should be the designated tent… I think.)
I checked the map my parents had given me several times and confirmed the signboard beside the tent that read "Party of Lady Celestelia," so there was no mistake about the location.
However, the people there were not my parents.
"Ufufu… ahaha♪"
An enigmatic witch was playing with butterflies.
Her hair was black like the night itself, matched with a dark-colored robe and a pointed hat. On her chest was a brooch shaped like a star.
I briefly considered turning around and leaving, but after hesitating, I decided to speak to the suspicious, ageless-looking witch.
"Excuse me. This spot is assigned to my family, but…"
The witch noticed me and, still smiling, tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"
"Oh my? Could it be that you are… Elaina?"
The fact that this strange witch, whom I had just met, knew my name made me wary.
"You know who I am?"
"Yes. Actually, I am acquainted with your parents."
That was how I met her, the Witch of Stardust, Professor Fran.
＊＊＊
As it turned out, she was currently teaching at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America, and she had come to Britain because it was the Quidditch World Cup.
"So does that mean you like Quidditch too, Professor Fran?"
"No, not at all. I have zero interest."
"Then why did you bother coming all the way to the World Cup…?"
"Because it is the perfect excuse to use up my paid leave, of course."
"…"
"That part was about half a joke."
Apparently, the other half was true.
"Elaina, you have heard that the Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year, right?"
At Professor Fran's words, I nodded.
The Triwizard Tournament.
It is a magical competition with over seven hundred years of history, in which champions chosen from Europe's three largest and most prestigious magical schools compete: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France, and Durmstrang Institute in Northern Europe.
However, as a historic event originating in the Middle Ages, its level of danger continued unchanged under the excuse of "tradition." In modern times, the repeated deaths of champions during the tournament became a serious problem, and after the 1792 tournament, in which a rampaging cockatrice injured all the headmasters, the event was suspended for a long time.
Yet thanks to the efforts of Mr. Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the Triwizard Tournament was revived for the first time in two hundred years.
From hosting the World Cup to reviving the Triwizard Tournament and bringing both events to Britain, the competence and achievements of Mr. Crouch as the driving force behind it all are immeasurable. It is easy to see why Percy respects him so much; he truly deserves to be called remarkably capable.
Among Slytherin students, many of whom come from high-ranking government families or powerful financial dynasties, the Triwizard Tournament is treated as an open secret, so while I was surprised when I first heard about it through a friend, it was hardly shocking by now.
"But Ilvermorny is not supposed to participate, is it?"
When I asked, slightly perplexed, Professor Fran nodded readily.
"That is correct. We are not participating."
She continued, however.
"If students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are coming to Hogwarts, then for the entire year until the tournament ends, someone has to teach them classes at Hogwarts, don't they?"
"Ah, I see."
I was starting to understand.
"In other words, because there are not enough teachers, Ilvermorny is also sending personnel as support staff."
"That is exactly right."
Although the headmasters of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will accompany their students, they apparently cannot devote much time to teaching due to their administrative duties. On the other hand, bringing too many teachers would leave the students back home without enough instruction.
They try to make up for this with joint classes at Hogwarts, but when schedules simply do not align, Professor Fran was called in to cover those gaps.
"In fact, Ilvermorny is also very interested in the revival of the Triwizard Tournament. There have even been discussions about holding similar competitions in the near future, perhaps between Castelobruxo in Brazil and Mahoutokoro in Japan."
It seems Professor Fran is involved in that plan as well, and she was dispatched to Britain partly for an inspection.
"But is it really enough with just you, Professor Fran?"
"Of course. If I put my mind to it, I can teach most subjects."
Come to think of it, the co-authored paper by Professor Fran and Professor McGonagall that I saw at GM Company dealt with advanced transfiguration theory, so despite her appearance, she might actually be an impressive figure.
"And then, well… I also wanted to enjoy my alma mater again after a long time."
"Wait, Professor Fran, you are not originally from Ilvermorny?"
"No. Believe it or not, I am a Hogwarts graduate, so that makes me your senior."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"By the way, which house were you in?"
"Isn't it obvious? The clever and adorable Ravenclaw."
"…"
Ravenclaw does gather many intelligent students, but it also has quite a few eccentric types, such as Professor Lockhart, Professor Quirrell, and Professor Trelawney. When she put it that way, the Sorting result did make sense.
"Elaina, you are thinking something a bit rude right now, aren't you?"
Whatever could you mean?
"But then why become a professor at Ilvermorny instead of Hogwarts?"
"So that part does bother you."
Professor Fran looked back at me quietly. Her expression was gentle, but her beautiful blue eyes were serious. Perhaps there was some deep-seated reason.
Had she caused an incident in the British magical world and been unable to stay? Or had she gone to America in pursuit of an American dream? As I spun all sorts of speculations in my head, Professor Fran smiled and said:
"It was just because there happened to be an opening."
"…"
It seemed to be nothing more than the fact that, just like in the Muggle world, securing a stable academic position is difficult.
With so few posts available and no openings unless the predecessor quits, Professor Fran was actually rather fortunate to have obtained a teaching position early on at a school in the same English-speaking world.
It is a harsh world indeed.
＊＊＊
While we were chatting about such trivial things, my mother finally arrived as well (my father could not make it because of work). For some reason, Sheila was with her too.
"It has been a while, Fran. Have you been well?"
"Yes, thanks to you."
When my mother greeted her, Professor Fran responded with a bright smile. She then turned to Sheila, who was dressed head to toe in a trench coat befitting an Auror.
"Sheila, you have changed."
"What kind of line is that coming from some old hag…"
At Professor Fran's rather elderly-sounding remark, Sheila let out an exasperated sigh.
"I mean, from where I stand, you are the one who has changed, Fran."
"Really? I have always been like this, haven't I?"
"Nope. You used to be way more hot-headed. Now you are like some retired old lady, and it is just not very exciting."
"Are you lonely?"
"Not really. I actually like how things are now better than when we were always fighting. It is easier this way."
The two of them chatted with obvious familiarity, and apparently they had been in the same year at Hogwarts.
"Even though we were in the same year, Fran was in Ravenclaw and I was in Gryffindor, so at first we never got along and were always fighting."
"Indeed. Back then, everyone in Gryffindor looked like a reckless gang of attention-seeking delinquents to me."
"And from my point of view, Ravenclaw just looked like a bunch of big-headed, gloomy introverts."
It was my mother, who had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for one year right after graduation, who brought together those two who were like oil and water and constantly at odds.
Since she was also a Slytherin alum, Professor Slughorn, who was a Head of House at the time, asked her to introduce some "interesting students" to his social club, the Slug Club. The people she thought of were Professor Fran and Sheila. Through various twists and turns, that connection continued even afterward.
"Thinking back on it now, that club was pretty unusual for the time. I was Gryffindor, Fran was Ravenclaw, and then there were Sluggy the old man and Victorica from Slytherin."
"Perhaps Professor Slughorn, despite how he looked, was doing his own part to promote harmony among the four houses."
"In fact, thanks to those connections, Sheila moved from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to the Aurors, and I was introduced to my job at Ilvermorny, so I have lost quite a bit of my prejudice against Slytherin."
Although membership was limited to students whose talent Professor Slughorn recognized, the cross-house connections formed among the top students of each house were significant. Whenever disputes arose between houses, members of the club often served as intermediaries for dialogue.
As she reminisced with a nostalgic look, Professor Fran continued, "Oh, that reminds me."
"After being assigned to Ilvermorny, I came to think even more that 'differences between houses are still just differences within Hogwarts.'"
"Well, from the perspective of American witches and wizards, Gryffindor and Slytherin are all just 'British' anyway."
"Exactly."
Professor Fran's words, shaped by her journey from the British wizarding world to the American one, were casual on the surface, yet carried a surprising depth.
＊＊＊
"Well then, shall we get going soon?"
After the adults had spent some time reminiscing and the sun began to set, my mother spoke up.
Looking around, other witches and wizards were also starting to move toward the stadium, and the atmosphere shifted to that of anticipation before the match.
"I booked late, so I could not get very good seats…"
"At least you get to watch. I have security duty starting now."
We parted ways with Professor Fran and Sheila there, and I headed with my parents toward the VIP seats in the upper levels of the stadium.
While long lines formed for the general seating, we passed through effortlessly with VIP treatment, and the box seats we reached offered an excellent view of the entire stadium.
The stadium was oval-shaped, with the seating rising outward like the hull of a ship. The VIP seats were positioned slightly above the midpoint, level with the goalposts, and extended outward in a fan-shaped arrangement of box seats.
(Hmm, this is quite something…!)
The heat generated by a crowd of one hundred thousand witches and wizards was overwhelming, and for once I could not help but feel genuinely impressed.
After a while, Millicent, Zabini, and Nott arrived.
"Yo, Elaina. Long time no see. How have you been?"
"Since you are over here, you are rooting for Ireland, right?"
"This means we win."
Incidentally, the Bulgarian supporters were seated in the opposite VIP section, and from afar I could see Daphne and Draco Malfoy waving at us. Pansy and Astoria were there too, along with Crabbe, Goyle, and the Carrow sisters, all drawing Bulgarian supporter flags on each other's faces.
"Elaina, it is about to start."
About thirty minutes later, my mother urged us to take our seats, and soon after, the World Cup began.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"
The voice of the commentator, Ludo Bagman, echoed through the stadium, and the crowd responded with cheers and applause. Thousands of national flags were waved, and the respective national anthems further energized the venue.
As pre-match entertainment, both teams began their mascot performances.
Bulgaria's performance featured a dance by Veela, magical beings who appeared as stunningly beautiful women with glowing skin and silver hair.
I could not help but be captivated by the otherworldly beauty and elegance of the dance, and as I watched, it felt as if my heart were being stolen and my mind emptied.
"Hey, Elaina, come back to us."
When the music stopped, I realized Millicent, who was sitting nearby, was tugging on my cheek. Beside her, Zabini and Nott were frozen in poses that looked dangerously close to leaping off, while on the other side, Draco Malfoy had his eyes covered from behind by Pansy.
"You know, Elaina, I have been meaning to say this for a while…"
"Oh, looks like Ireland's performance is about to start."
Ireland's performance followed, with massive fireworks launching into the sky and forming a three-leaf clover above the stadium. After that, Leprechaun gold coins rained down like golden rain.
"By the way, Elaina, how much did you bet?"
This time Zabini spoke to me.
"Forty Galleons. What about you, Zabini?"
"Ten Galleons, but seriously, where did you get that kind of money?"
"My investments went well."
Incidentally, World Cup betting is a public, government-run system, so it is no surprise that the British Ministry of Magic puts considerable effort into it.
In the end, the match concluded with Ireland's victory, 170 to 160.
Ireland dominated the Chaser game throughout, and before Viktor Krum, Bulgaria's Seeker, could suffer a crushing defeat, he caught the Snitch to end the match.
Personally, though, I was less amazed by the match itself and more stunned by the astonishing accuracy of "Riddle 94," which I had seen at the Circle. With some refinement, it could become a very interesting product.
Afterward, we all returned to the tents, but even after the match ended, the excitement showed no signs of fading.
"With a Seeker like Viktor Krum, how could they lose?"
"It is all Volchanov's fault."
The adults loudly exchanged their thoughts on the match, mugs in hand, thoroughly enjoying their drinking.
＊＊
As the night wore on and the atmosphere around us shifted to something like "it is getting late, maybe we should turn in," my mother suddenly spoke.
"Oh? What is that?"
When she said that and I listened closely, I could hear shouting and screams coming from somewhere.
"Could it just be drunk people fighting?"
When I stepped outside to check, I saw several tents burning in the distance. People were screaming and running in panic, with intermittent explosions and flashes of light, like a battlefield under bombardment.
"That is…"
At the center of it all was a group in black robes wearing sinister masks.
"They are Death Eaters."
My mother, who had somehow come up beside me, stared coldly at the group in black robes. Setting tents on fire and levitating Muggles in the air while mocking them, they were unmistakably a dangerous group.
(This is not something that can be dismissed as a mere bizarre costume parade…)
Fortunately, the Death Eaters seemed to be heading in the opposite direction from our camp, while a flood of fleeing people rushed toward us.
"This way! Hurry!"
At the familiar voice, I turned around and saw Sheila, the Auror, directing people to safety.
"They will not come this far, so stay calm…"
Sheila noticed me and came closer.
"Elaina! Are you all right over there?"
When I nodded, she let out a small sigh of relief.
"Sorry about this. We somehow scraped together the budget to prepare a special task force of five hundred, but with one hundred thousand people, between drunks and gambling disputes, it is just impossible…"
Her words were cut off there, and in the next instant, a massive scream erupted.
A skull shot high into the sky, spewing a snake from its mouth. It was the Dark Mark, the symbol of Voldemort.
The Dark Mark is etched into the left arms of Death Eaters as proof of their loyalty to Voldemort. At the height of his power, it was launched whenever someone was killed by the forces of darkness, a loathsome sign that remains a symbol of fear to this day.
"…Looks like tonight is going to be an all-nighter."
Sheila muttered with a groan, then turned back toward us with a distant look in her eyes.
"Well, I have to go handle evacuation, hunt down whoever caused this mess, deal with the press, and so on. I do not think it is a good idea for you to stay here too long."
When my mother replied, "That was the plan from the start," Sheila gave a brief nod and disappeared in the direction where the Dark Mark had been cast.
"Elaina, let us go home by Apparition."
Nodding at my mother's words, I took her hand, and we left the World Cup venue behind.
(End of chapter)
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