Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 254 The British magical community will become a laughing stock of the world.

award?

Hearing Vivi's words, Harry didn't know whether to be hopeful or to run away quickly.

After all, as a reward last time, Vivi had made his mouth look like a sausage.

If I had to do this again, I'd better take a good look in the mirror before going out.

When he turned around again, he found Ron standing by the railing, poised to dive off the springboard, about to plunge into the water.

Hermione was furious, her small chest heaving violently, muttering over and over again, "How dare he, how dare he."

The stadium was filled with angry roars; people didn't want the Veela to leave.

After all, the stunning scene of a hundred Veela dancing gracefully in the center of the arena at the same time, making all kinds of seductive poses, is not something you can see every day.

“You need to tone it down.” The Weasley twins flanked their already deranged younger brother, Ron.

But Ron paid no attention; he was absentmindedly tearing the shamrock off his hat.

Mr. Weasley smiled and leaned over, taking the hat from Ron's hand.

"You'll need it later," said Mr. Weasley, "after the Irish performance."

"Hmm?" Ron grunted, but he still stared at the Veelas, who were now lined up on one side of the arena, speechless.

"Stop looking." Hermione coughed loudly. "They're all gone—Ronald!"

Ron glanced back at Hermione with a very sigma-like look, then continued to spy on Veela with his binoculars.

“Your little friend…” Vivi said softly, pursing her lips, “seems to have a lot of backbone—that’s quite rare.”

"Really?" Harry looked up, glanced at Ron with a puzzled expression, and said, "Actually, I don't know what's so interesting about Veela. Aren't they just pretty creatures?"

"Really? You can resist the temptation of Veela?" Vivi asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, at least you can’t,” Cassandra said sarcastically, her words flying. “Remember the nickname your brother gave Harry? Scarface Veil…”

This sentence didn't attract Vivi's attention; instead, it was the unusual way she addressed her—

"So, your relationship has become so close that you can call each other by our first names?" Vivi teased Cassandra. "Or did you do something to Harry while I was away that caused your relationship to heat up so quickly?"

“Slip of the tongue.” Cassandra’s face turned cold. “Don’t misunderstand, Grindelwald—I have no interest in your little boyfriend.”

“Oh, right.” Vivi suddenly whispered in Cassandra’s ear, “Then, is it okay to call me Master?”

Cassandra's expression turned bright red, as if a pot had boiled over.

"awesome!"

Ron suddenly roared, drawing their attention.

They looked up and saw that, without them noticing, a huge, dazzling clover had risen high into the air and begun to hover above the stands.

Something started falling from above with a pattering sound, like golden raindrops.

"It's a little goblin."

Cassandra picked up a gleaming gold coin from her lap and began to change the subject: "This kind of gold coin... tsk."

"A little imp?"

Ron looked up blankly, still clutching several gold coins in his hand.

“A gnome, sometimes called a Clauricorn, is a very mischievous magical creature,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she explained to Ron. “You’re such a handful, always neglecting your studies—gnomes can grow up to six inches tall, are entirely green, and wear simple clothes made of leaves. They feed on plant leaves. Gnomes are smarter than fairies and kinder than imps, elves, and vixens. Although gnomes love to play pranks, they have never done anything that has caused long-term harm to humans.”

After Hermione finished her explanation, Cassandra cautioned, "I hope you'll throw away those coins and not do anything pointless, Weasley."

"Why?" Ron hadn't stopped stuffing the gold coins into his pocket.

Hermione sighed.

"The goblins can produce a substance that looks a lot like gold, but it disappears after a few hours, which makes the goblins very happy—this gold coin will disappear after the competition ends, barring any unforeseen circumstances."

Upon hearing Hermione's words, the Grangers, who had been bending over to pick up the gold coins, immediately sat up straight and discreetly stuffed the coins between the chairs next to them.

Ron glanced at the gold coins in his hand and finally threw them aside.

Forget it, there's no point in picking this up; it'll just disappear anyway.

Just as they were talking, the giant clover vanished, and the goblins slowly landed opposite the Veela in the arena, sat down cross-legged, and prepared to watch the match.

Harry also held up his binoculars to his eyes, intending to watch the game below.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, a warm welcome to the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! And let me introduce you to Dimitrov!"

A figure in red riding a flying broomstick flew into the stadium from an entrance below. He flew so fast that he was almost invisible, and he won the enthusiastic cheers of the Bulgarian team's supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second figure in bright red robes flew out.

"Zograf! Levsky! Vokanov! Volkov! Next up—Krum!"

“It’s him, it’s him!” Ron shouted, following Krum with his panoramic binoculars.

Viktor Krum was dark and thin, with grayish-yellow skin, a big hooked nose, and two thick black eyebrows. He looked like a huge eagle.

Harry was still wondering what was going on when he saw him.

Is he fucking eighteen?

People would believe he was twenty-eight years old—of course, perhaps because Slavs tend to look older?

"Now, please welcome—the Irish national Quidditch team!" Bagman shouted loudly. "Entering the field are—Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mallett! Moran! Quigley! And—and—and—Linzi!"

Seven blurry green figures flew toward the arena. Harry turned a small button on the side of the panoramic telescope, slowing down the team's movements and making out that their flying brooms were all marked with "Firebolt," and that their names were embroidered in silver thread on their backs.

"And our referee today, Hassan Mustafa, the highly respected president of the International Quidditch Federation, who flew all the way from Egypt!"

A short, thin wizard, dressed in a pure gold robe that matched the colors of the stadium, strode towards the arena.

He was completely bald on top, but his beard rivaled that of his Uncle Vernon. A silver whistle peeked out from beneath his beard.

He had a large wooden box tucked under one arm and his flying broom tucked under the other.

Harry switched the panoramic telescope back to normal speed and watched closely as Mustafa mounted his flying broomstick and kicked the wooden crate open—four balls shot into the air: a bright red Quaffle, two black Runners, and the tiny, winged golden Snitch. Mustafa whistled and followed the balls into the air.

It should be said that, after all, this is the final of the Quidditch World Cup, and its level is certainly not something that can be compared to the cup competitions within Hogwarts.

Its intensity and ferocity are enough to attract attention.

After seeing Krum injured, Harry put down his binoculars and turned to look at Vivi, only to find that she was wearing glasses and reading a book on her lap.

Why aren't you watching the game?

Amidst shouts of "Foul!", Harry asked Vivi.

“I’m not interested in this kind of competition,” Vivi said, turning a page of her book without looking up.

"Then why do you always miss my Quidditch matches?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Vivi looked up and adjusted her glasses.

"Because that's a match you're in."

After saying that, she lowered her head and continued reading the book that was on her lap.

Cassandra, standing nearby, snorted loudly, expressing her displeasure with this guy who was so good at flirting with men.

For a moment, Harry thought that it might be better not to watch the game at all.

He coughed twice, glanced around at the people who were all watching the game intently, then walked back to Vivi and sat down between her and Cassandra.

“Where’s Papiyas?” Vivi asked.

“Pappy isn’t interested in these kinds of competitions, so she didn’t come.” Harry put the binoculars to his eyes and then put them down again. “But I heard Professor Scamander wanted to see her about something else, so she didn’t come.”

"Oh, right," Harry added, "We had actually invited Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, but they both had some things to do, so they couldn't come to watch the game."

"That's such a shame."

Vivi said that, but Harry didn't realize she meant any regret.

"So who do you think will win?" Harry continued, trying to make conversation. "Judging from the current situation, Ireland has a clear advantage. I can't think of any way Bulgaria can turn the tide unless Viktor Krum manages to catch the Golden Snitch when the score difference is within 150 points."

“But you know that’s impossible,” Vivi said, head down. “Trust my judgment, Ireland will win in the end, and Viktor Krum will catch the Golden Snitch—that is to say, he can only catch the Golden Snitch after the score difference has widened to more than 150 points.”

“You seem very confident,” Harry said.

“I’ve always been confident.” Vivi smiled. “Want to make a bet with me, Harry?”

Cassandra, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up to stop Vivi from lying to the child.

“Although I’m very reluctant to admit it, I still advise you not to bet with her,” she said.

Harry then remembered that Vivi also possessed some prophetic abilities; perhaps she had already predicted the outcome of the World Cup, which was why she symbolically placed a bet along with the twins…

Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot these days?

Vivi said that, but her expression showed not a trace of displeasure.

“Ha.” Cassandra crossed her arms. “That’s still better than you lying to the children—”

“I’m not a child anymore!” Harry tried to defy the two of them.

But after he said that, Vivi looked up, and Cassandra turned to him as well. The two of them looked down at Harry.

"Ah."

They both burst out laughing.

Harry took a deep breath...

Can't stand it!
“Let’s talk about that in a couple of years, my darling,” Vivi laughed heartily, whispering in Harry’s ear, “But right now, it’s obvious you’re still a child…”

“Yes, you’re still a minor.” Cassandra looked at him with pity. “Don’t tell the older girls you’re not a child anymore—”

Just then, Mr. Bagman's roar suddenly echoed throughout the entire competition venue.

"He caught it—Krum caught it—the game is over! But Ireland have killed the game with a score of 170-160!"

Just from his voice, you could tell that Mr. Bagman was in a very good mood.

Everyone assumed he was happy because of Ireland's victory, but only the twins, Mr. Bagman, and Harry and a few others knew the real reason why Mr. Bagman was so happy.

How could I not be happy?
He bet on the final victory, which is a huge fortune.

“I said, we fought very bravely,” a heavy voice said from not far away.

He turned his head and saw that it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

“You can speak English!” Fudge said, sounding very annoyed. “But you’ve made me spend all day here gesturing!”

“Hey, that’s a lot of fun,” the Bulgarian minister said, shrugging.

Beside Harry, Vivi whispered, "Who would think a Minister for Magic wouldn't speak English? For wizards, learning another language isn't a problem."

"Only this good-for-nothing would think that way," Cassandra muttered, joining Vivi in ​​her complaint.

It's clear that neither of them has any good feelings towards Fudge.

"Gentlemen, please excuse me," the Bulgarian Minister of Magic shrugged. "Now I need to be there for the young men. They've been brave enough; they need some just the right amount of encouragement."

After saying this, he bowed to the people around him, turned around and left the private room.

Fudge was still a little annoyed because he had spent the whole day gesturing and trying to make the Bulgarian Minister of Magic understand what he was talking about.

He felt like a clown, even though he really was a clown.

“You should go down now,” Mr. Malfoy reminded Fudge at the opportune moment. “After all, as the host and Minister of Magic, you should go and present the trophy to the winning team.”

“Yes, oh, yes.” Fudge finally smiled. “I should indeed be down here. Okay, see you later.”

After Fudge left, Mr. Malfoy sighed.

"If this continues, the British wizarding community will become a laughing stock worldwide!"

(End of this chapter)