ushernet Chapter 326 - 326
Chapter 326 - 326
Charlie's words had clearly sunk in for the twins—they knew all too well how much their mother despised their Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes inventions.So, in an instant, they made up their minds: they absolutely couldn't let Mum catch them tinkering with those things. If she ended up torching all their little gadgets and chucking out the orders, they'd be done for.
"So, who do you reckon will take the Cup?" Charlie asked again. "Ireland? Or Bulgaria? I know that Bulgarian Seeker of theirs is brilliant—Viktor Krum, right? Ron's got a poster of him right by his bed."
Ron didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed about it, after all—that was his idol.
"Alright, then let me ask you this." Fred's eyes gleamed with mischief as an idea struck him, and he started teasing Ron. "As a Seeker, who's better—Harry or Viktor Krum?"
Ron: ?
Wait, mate?
The question really stumped Ron. Truth be told, in Ron's eyes, Harry was an outstanding Seeker too.
"That's a tough one to answer," Ron's brain kicked into overdrive, displaying an uncharacteristic flash of emotional intelligence. "If I have to pick, I actually prefer Harry—whether it's from a friend's perspective or a Gryffindor's. Besides, the two of them have never really gone head-to-head, have they?"
"Speaking of which," Charlie said suddenly, "I got letters from Professor McGonagall and Wood once—they both had high praise for Harry. I've never seen McGonagall commend a student like that... Oh, wait, back when I was at school, she did occasionally praise Harry's dad too, saying he was an outstanding Chaser."
"Like father, like son," Harry said with a grin.
"What are you lot chatting about over here?"
Mrs. Weasley finally approached, her face stern as she glared at the Weasley twins. "Are you on about your grand schemes again? I warn you, George! Fred! You two are not to touch those Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes anymore! Do you hear me?"
As she said their names, Mrs. Weasley jabbed a finger at each son in turn.
"Got it, Mum," Fred and George chorused. "But that really hurts—I'm Fred, he's George. Even Mum can't tell us apart; it's heartbreaking."
"Oh, sorry, dears," Mrs. Weasley sighed.
"Just kidding, Mum." Fred and George slung their arms over each other's shoulders, chuckling. "Actually, you got it right the first time—"
Mrs. Weasley, fuming, snatched a baguette from the table and started whacking them with it, leaving the twins yelping in protest.
Dinner that evening was Mrs. Weasley's handiwork—she didn't quite trust Kreacher, after all. The old house-elf was getting on in years and looked a bit unkempt.
Of course, Mrs. Weasley did enjoy cooking for her family.
The main reason, though, was that Kreacher was still holding Regulus's hand, and to Mrs. Weasley, the idea of letting an Inferi help in the kitchen just didn't sit right.
What if he drooled into the food? Disgusting.
"Here, try some—your favorite, potato and beef stew." Mrs. Weasley beamed as she plonked a massive pot down on the table with a flourish, then cupped Harry's face in her hands. "Eat up, eat up."
"This stew'll put some meat on your bones~" Ron said with a wink and a nudge at Harry, grabbing a ladle and piling half a plate for him.
Harry tore off a chunk of bread from the side and scooped up the stew, savoring the comforting flavor.
Cassandra's brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
This guy...
So uncouth!
"We'll stay here overnight," Mr. Weasley said. "Tomorrow, we'll take a carriage to the Quidditch World Cup grounds—"
"A carriage?" Bill looked up, flicking his ponytail. "Shouldn't it be one of those Portkeys made from who-knows-what? Then we all grab hold, and whoosh—"
"Oh, that's ancient history now," Mr. Weasley chuckled, turning to Bill. "We're not what we used to be, so naturally, we travel in style these days—Of course, it's not a rented carriage, dear."
The last bit was directed at Molly.
"Ludo Bagman pulled strings for us—it's a VIP box perk." Mr. Weasley's forehead practically gleamed as he grinned. "The rest of the lot will have to make do with the old ways—no crowding, nothing too flashy, and absolutely no drawing Muggle attention, or we'd have to Obliviate the lot of them..."
"Why?" Hermione asked curiously, nibbling on a piece of bread. "Don't we have Repello Muggletum?"
"Organization's a nightmare," Mr. Weasley sighed. "The big issue is, we've got about a hundred thousand wizards coming to watch the Cup. We couldn't find a magical site big enough for that many. Some spots Muggles can't get into, but just imagine cramming a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley? Even with Repello Muggletum, funneling that many through the Leaky Cauldron in a short time would be way too conspicuous."
"First off, of course, we stagger arrivals. Cheaper tickets mean showing up two weeks early. Some use Muggle transport, but limited numbers—we can't have hordes jamming up their buses and trains. And don't forget, wizards from all over the world. Some Apparate, but we designate safe spots away from Muggles."
"I reckon there's a handy forest nearby for Apparition drop-offs," Bill quipped, not quite landing the cool joke.
"Oh, absolutely—there is a forest, in fact."
Mr. Weasley chuckled; he'd scouted the site himself, after all.
"For those who won't or can't Apparate, we use Portkeys—this thing zaps wizards from one spot to another in a set time, and it can handle big groups if needed. If memory serves, the Ministry scattered about two hundred around Britain."
"But we don't need that rubbish now, right?" the twins asked in unison.
"Oh, naturally not." Mr. Weasley patted his belly. "Oh, right—I still need to pick up the Grangers. Hermione? Give your dad a ring; I'll take the car and fetch them."
"A car?" Sirius perked up. "You never mentioned you had a car, Arthur—"
"Didn't get the chance." Mr. Weasley shot back. "Not too late now."
"Oh, you mean that Ford Anglia." Charlie swallowed a mouthful of bread and explained to Sirius. "Mum gave Dad an earful when he was enchanting it—but she couldn't stop him in the end."
"Yeah, and I got pecked by those startled chickens," Bill said nostalgically.
At that, everyone around the table burst into laughter.
"Right, then—after dinner, we'll all head out to get them." Mr. Weasley said. "Sirius, you're with me... Though the car's back home, so we'll Floo first and grab it."
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed. "Are you off joyriding in that car again?"
"Oh, no, dear." Mr. Weasley replied. "We're picking up the Grangers—they might get lost otherwise..."
It was a solid excuse; at least Mrs. Weasley didn't press the matter.
After dinner, Sirius and Mr. Weasley set off to collect Mr. Granger.
"You know," Mr. Weasley said to Sirius as they stepped into the fireplace, "I know Mr. Granger's Bentley is pricey, but he said he'd trade ten of them for my car—"
"Can't blame him," Sirius said earnestly. "For Muggles, a flying car isn't for sale anywhere."
Once they were gone, the boys huddled up for a game of cards, with Hermione off to the side, buried in her essays.
Cassandra sat behind Harry, watching them play.
It was Texas Hold'em, but instead of money, the stakes were strips of paper stuck to their faces.
Around seven or eight in the evening, the rumble of an engine sounded outside.
Moments later, the door swung open, and in came the Grangers with Mr. Weasley.
Mr. Granger looked thrilled, gesturing animatedly as he recounted the ride to Mr. Weasley.
"This is utterly magical!" Mr. Granger exclaimed happily. "I've never had an experience like this—it makes me feel years younger!"
"That's magic for you—pretty amazing, eh?" Sirius shut the door with a grin.
"Ahem!"
The portrait of Mrs. Black, rudely awakened, coughed in displeasure. Spotting the Grangers, she muttered something under her breath, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
It was only for Harry's sake that she held her tongue; otherwise, there'd have been a right racket.
"Is that a painting? Or a television?" Mr. Granger stared in shock at the moving, speaking portrait. "It looks so lifelike..."
"No, that's my mother's portrait," Sirius replied casually.
"Oh, sorry." Mr. Granger apologized quickly. "I had no idea—that's your, er, mother."
"No worries." Sirius shrugged. "I didn't know she was my mother either."
Mr. Granger took it for wizardly humor.
As they entered the drawing room, they spotted the children plastered with paper strips on their faces.
Spotting her parents, Hermione let out a shriek, shoved her cards into the deck, and bolted.
"What on earth are you lot up to?" Mr. Weasley asked, stunned.
"A Black family specialty," Bill drawled, setting down his cards and glancing back. "Cures dry skin—fancy a go, Dad?"
"Oh, I'll pass," Mr. Weasley demurred.
"I think it's rather good," Fred said, slinging an arm around George's neck as they chimed in unison. "Better than twiddling our thumbs—might as well play some cards, eh?"
"Looks like you've got healthy heads on your shoulders—no money involved, at least." Mr. Weasley smiled, turning to Sirius. "We'll need to set up a room for these two—"
"No worries, plenty of spares." Sirius snapped his fingers with a chuckle. "Kreacher!"
Kreacher materialized in a whirlwind, Regulus's hand still in his grasp.
At the sight of the newcomers, Regulus let out a guttural roar and lunged for Mr. Granger. "Jesus Holy FXXK!"
Mr. Granger leaped back; Regulus's appearance had genuinely terrified him.
How was this house so wild? They kept zombies?
"Go! Kreacher!" Sirius barked. "Lock Regulus back up!"
Kreacher grumbled under his breath—muttering about getting young Master Regulus more moonlight—but obeyed without question, dragging Regulus back to his room.
"My apologies," Sirius said to the still-shaken Grangers. "Sorry about that—Regulus is my brother. He's... like this because of certain circumstances. Didn't mean to scare you."
"It's fine," Mr. Granger said, swallowing hard. "Our room—"
"Oh, it's far from here," Sirius assured him with a smile. "Right next to Hermione's—I've got it all sorted."
With that, Mr. Granger finally relaxed.
That night, they all settled in at Grimmauld Place.
The next morning, they rose bright and early.
As VIPs, they didn't need to arrive ahead of time, so setting off after lunch would do just fine.
"This is my first time at a magical event like this," Mr. Granger said, buzzing with excitement. "Like Diagon Alley, right?"
"Not quite—if I had to compare..." Sirius thought for a moment. "It's more like the FIFA World Cup, yeah..."
"Oh!" Mr. Granger smacked his palm. "I went to this year's in the States."
"Really?" Harry yawned, asking. "Who won?"
"Brazil," Mr. Granger said. "It went to extra time, ended in a draw—Brazil clinched it 3-2 on penalties against Italy. Got to hand it to them—South American football's something else."
Here, Mr. Granger added with a touch of regret, "What I didn't see coming was Roberto Baggio missing that penalty. I really thought he'd nail it..."
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze