I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 219 Sirius's Sunset Glow

Dragon meat sausages are a good suggestion, but Chromie vehemently opposes it.

We're already being generous by giving you some frog meat; you actually want dragon meat? Seriously... we won't allow it!

"Since you can transport food from the future, could you get some electronic devices to play with? I'm so bored," Louis asked tentatively.

Chromie shook his head and said, "I can only get you things that aren't too high-tech. As for electronic devices, they're too taxing for me. A smartphone is almost draining all my energy. I don't even want to think about getting anything else..."

"Okay." Louis shrugged, indicating that he didn't care.

In addition, Chromie said that he would be staying here for the next few months, and after watching the Quidditch World Cup, he would have some other things to do.

After taking a nap, everyone headed to the Quidditch World Cup venue.

Mr. Weasley originally planned to find the Portkey at the top of Weasley Hill and use it to teleport to the match venue. However, Louis suggested that everyone take a carriage, since it was spacious enough. So, after a vote, it was passed by a clear majority of seventeen to one, and everyone went by carriage.

Before leaving, Mr. Weasley used Harry's owl Hedwig to write to Mr. Diggory, telling him not to wait for them and that the father and son could go there by themselves using the Portkey.

Needless to say, when Louis summoned the elemental chariot, it caused a stir.

"Holy crap, this is so cool!" Ron muttered, staring intently at the carriage.

It's not surprising that he was acting this way; even his usually steady older brother, Percy, was in a state of disarray.

When they stepped inside the car, they were amazed by its spacious and luxurious interior. Harry touched it left and right, clearly quite fond of it.

"If you like, I'll have Chris get you a set of Quel'Thalas-style sheets and duvet covers later," Louis said with a smile.

Upon hearing this, Hermione immediately turned her gaze to Louise.

"Alright, alright, everyone gets a share." Louis waved his hand. "Anyway, there's plenty of this kind of stuff, so I don't care."

"It's settled then." Hermione nodded emphatically, clearly liking this style of decoration as well.

Time flew by in the carriage. The cold wind at such a height was imperceptible inside. People gathered in groups of two or three, some playing cards, others playing Wizarding Tales. Sirius sat opposite Louis, sipping tea in silence.

He's probably thinking about some girl again.

"What are you thinking about?" Louis kicked his leg and asked curiously.

Sirius put down his teacup and sighed, "I recently made a pen pal, but he hasn't been replying to my letters much lately, and I'm getting a little annoyed."

"What kind of pen pal?" Louis asked curiously. "Male or female? Tall or short? Fat or thin?"

"A woman." Sirius glanced at Solarian and Ye Ziyan, who was whispering with her. Seeing that the two hadn't noticed him, he said in a low voice, "She's someone I matched with while playing The Witcher Legends a few days ago. We chatted for a long time after the match. All I know is that she's Italian and is currently in England watching the Quidditch World Cup..."

"An Italian?" Louis asked, intrigued. "Did she say her name?"

"I think her name is Claudia." Sirius thought for a moment. "Ah, I remember now, she said her daughter goes to Hogwarts."

Louis nearly sprayed the juice in his face, but managed to swallow it down before asking, "Her daughter goes to Hogwarts? How old is she this year?"

"He's a year older than me." Sirius chuckled. "I never expected love to come so quickly..."

"Love is like a pile of poop," Louis said aptly. "You never know when it will come, and you never know when it will be gone..."

"I don't want to know how he came to be, I just want to know how he died..." Sirius sighed, looking up at the sky.

"Not yet, don't be nervous," Louise reassured him. "I do know one Italian girl, and she seems to be the right age. I'll have Catherine ask her."

"Really?" Sirius's eyes lit up with hope.

"Of course," Louis nodded. "But here's the problem: does she have a husband? You just... well, don't go and duel with her husband again..."

"It's nothing, I already asked." Sirius coughed. "She doesn't have a husband, she's been divorced for several years..."

Mr. Weasley suddenly interjected, "It looks like we're almost there. Get ready!"

Louis looked out the window and saw the carriage flying low over a desolate swamp—a thick fog obscured everything above. After flying for a little over a minute, the carriage stopped.

After alighting from the carriage, they came to a large gate. Louis stowed the carriage as everyone disembarked. Stepping through the gate, they saw a small stone house, behind which were hundreds of oddly shaped tents. They followed the gentle slope of a large field that stretched to a dark forest on the horizon. Led by Mr. Weasley, they walked towards the door of the stone house.

A man stood at the entrance, gazing at the tents. Louis immediately recognized him as the only Muggle in such a large area. The man heard footsteps and turned to look at them.

"Good afternoon!" Mr. Weasley said in high spirits.

"Good afternoon!" said the Muggle.

"Are you Mr. Roberts?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Ah, that's right," said Mr. Roberts. "Who are you?"

"Weasley—two tents, plus the tent Black booked, and the two tents Wally booked, one two days ago and the other one day ago, do you have them?"

"Yes," Mr. Roberts said, glancing at the form posted on the door. "You have a place in the woods over there. How long are you staying?"

"Four nights," Mr. Weasley said.

"Then, can I pay now?" Mr. Roberts said.

"Ah, okay, no problem," Mr. Weasley said. "Please wait a moment while I go get the money."

He stepped out of the tent and glanced behind him: "Louis, Louis?"

"Hey, over here." Louis squeezed through; there were just too many Weasleys, so you had to push your way in.

"Take a look for me, and here's Harry." Mr. Weasley pulled a roll of Muggle money from his pocket. "This one—well, this one's ten dollars?" He struggled to separate the bills one by one, trying to make out the denominations.

"Oh, right, I can see the numbers now, damn it..." Mr. Weasley wasn't unable to see the numbers, but rather he didn't know exactly where the numbers were printed on the banknote.

Actually, he was looking at the back... If he had been looking at the front, he certainly wouldn't have had this bizarre question.

"You've got it backwards, Uncle Arthur," Louis pointed out. "If you look at the other side, there's a very noticeable number on the upper right corner of my aunt's head."

The 1991 edition of the pound sterling always featured a portrait or bust of Aunt Louise on the obverse.

"Oh, my mistake... Hmm, this five-dollar bill, hey, who's that man on the back?" Mr. Weasley, like a curious child discovering a new continent, noticed something new: "He looks quite handsome. Is he a relative of yours?"

"No, this is the Duke of Wellington," Louis explained patiently. "He decisively defeated Napoleon, the French emperor, at the Battle of Waterloo more than a hundred years ago. Look, on the left is a drawing depicting the Battle of the Iberian Peninsula."

"Muggle history is really interesting, isn't it?" Mr. Weasley suddenly became quite excited. "You'd better tell me a good story about Muggle history sometime. It's really interesting; there's so much to learn about these banknotes, ah ha..."

"And who is on the back of this ten-pound note?" he asked again.

"It's Florence Nightingale, Uncle Arthur," Louis explained, pointing to the banknote. "Ms. Nightingale was a great woman. She pioneered modern nursing and was one of the founders of nursing education. The foundation she laid saved countless lives..."

"Ah, so Muggles have such a glorious history and such outstanding talents..." Mr. Weasley shook his head, probably sighing, perhaps lamenting the wizarding world's lack of understanding of the Muggle world.

As Mr. Weasley returned with several correct banknotes, Mr. Roberts approached him and asked curiously, "Are you a foreigner?"

"Foreigner?" Mr. Weasley repeated, puzzled.

“You’re not the only one who doesn’t know the value of money,” said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley. “Just ten minutes ago, two men offered to pay me a gold coin the size of a bottle cap.”

"Really?" Mr. Weasley said, his expression becoming somewhat uneasy.

Mr. Roberts was fumbling for change in a tin can.

“There have never been so many people,” he said suddenly, his gaze once again sweeping across the misty camp. “Hundreds of people have booked tents, and people keep coming in.”

"Is something wrong?" Mr. Weasley asked, reaching for the change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Yes," Mr. Roberts said thoughtfully, "people from all over the world. Countless foreigners. Not just foreigners, but also a lot of weirdos, you know? There was this guy who even walked around wearing a pleated skirt and a South American cape..."

"Can't I?" Mr. Weasley asked eagerly.

"It was like... I don't know... like playing a trick," Mr. Roberts said. "They all seemed to know each other. Like a big party."

Just then, a wizard wearing harem pants suddenly descended from the sky and landed by the door of Mr. Roberts' stone house. "Forget everything!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Immediately, Mr. Roberts' gaze became unfocused, his brow relaxed, and his face showed a dazed and indifferent expression. Louis, standing outside, could tell that this was exactly how a person's memory would appear if it were altered.

This made him feel a little uncomfortable. Wizards treated Muggles like small animals—but it was only discomfort. After all, he was a wizard now, and no one would treat him like that for the time being, except for Voldemort.

"Here's a map of the camp," Mr. Roberts said calmly to Mr. Weasley, "and here's your change."

"Thank you very much," Mr. Weasley said.

The wizard in harem pants accompanied them toward the camp gate. He looked extremely tired; his chin was unshaven and bluish-black, and there were purplish shadows under his eyes, making him look as if he hadn't had a proper rest for days.

When Mr. Roberts couldn't hear them talking, the wizard whispered to Mr. Weasley for a long time about how Ludo Bagman was completely useless.

"Good heavens, Ludo Bagman is just making things worse, walking around and yelling about Blink and Quake, completely oblivious to the Muggles hearing about the wizarding world, damn it... Good heavens, I wish this would all end soon. See you later, Arthur."

After saying that, he disappeared.

"From what I'm hearing, Mr. Bagman doesn't seem to be involved much?" Louis inquired curiously. "Logically speaking, Quidditch terms like Quaffle and Blink are forbidden to be discussed in front of Muggles. Why would he, as the head of the Department of Magical Sports, openly violate such a prohibition?"

"He's just wasting his time, isn't he? He's always like that," Mr. Weasley said with a laugh, leading everyone through the gate and into the camp. "Ludo has always been a bit of a rascal, but you can't find anyone more passionate to lead the Department of Sports. After all, Louis, you know, sports are a passionate sport. You can't expect a bunch of old fogies to sit there like zombies and lead the development of sports. If that's the case, we might as well dig up a few mummies from the Egyptian pyramids and have them sit on them."

"You have a point, but if it were me, I would assign Mr. Bagman a deputy of equal rank to clean up his mess." Louis shrugged. "Try to stop things before they happen, or nip the problems he causes in the bud. Don't wait until things escalate before trying to clean them up, or one day it will be too late."

“You’re right, you’re right, Louis.” Mr. Weasley nodded, agreeing with Louis’s point of view. “But you also know who’s in charge of the Ministry of Magic right now.” He lowered his head and whispered in Louis’s ear, “The current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, cares more about his own position than doing anything practical. At the first sign of trouble, he runs away…”

(End of this chapter)