Veratia: Eighteen at the World Cup, Standing There Like a Lackey

While the Football World Cup is certainly memorable, for Mr. Granger, the Quidditch World Cup below is what excites him the most.

After all, even the American President may not be invited to the Wizarding World Quidditch World Cup.

Unless they have a child with magic powers.

As VIP guests in the private room, the group displayed an excellent sense of relaxation, focusing entirely on unwinding. They lingered until after lunch before finally setting off.

The carriage, which had been enchanted with the Untraceable Extension Charm, naturally amazed Mr. Granger, even though he had already been shocked by the small Untraceable Extension Charm on the car earlier.

"If this could be applied to selling cars, they would probably sell out," Mr. Granger commented earnestly.

That's true. If a car could be modified with the Untraceable Extension Charm —not even too much, but just the size of a campervan—it would be enough to sell out and make so much money that your hands would cramp.

"But unfortunately, Askin," Mr. Weasley said with a hint of regret, "the Ministry of Magic doesn't allow us to modify cars. If it did, it might have been a pretty good source of income."

"How can you say it's good?" Mr. Granger reached out and stroked the leather seat. "I'm sure it will sell out completely, even the British Royal Family will be ordering from it, and the Muggle world will go crazy for it!"

It seems Mr. Granger really wants to do this business; even Ron can tell.

"I think so too," the Weasley twins said in a barely audible voice. "If our gadgets could sell in the Muggle World, it would cause a sensation—we'd be the most popular people in the world!"

Of course, the Weasley twins ' focus was not on making money, but on becoming world-famous figures.

After all, who can refuse to be the eternal king in the hearts of children?

They absolutely dared not let Mrs. Weasley hear these words, otherwise they would be in for a good scolding and have their order confiscated.

Also, all the tools used in the crime.

"Kids," Mr. Weasley said, turning slightly as he sat down, "What are you planning to eat tonight? There are plenty of food stalls at the World Cup stadium; you can choose whatever you like—just tell me what you'd like, and I'll give you the money..."

"Long live Dad!" Ron was the first to raise his right hand, at a 45-degree angle.

I learned this word from TV, when I was watching TV at Hermione's house.

As the saying goes, it's hard to learn good things, but it's easy to learn bad things, and Ron is somewhat in that state.

"That's not a good gesture, Ron," Mr. Granger said, turning back. "At least not in Muggle World, or it'll cause unnecessary trouble."

"Why?" Ron's eyes revealed a clear sense of foolishness.

"Don't ask why!" Hermione hissed. "There's no why, just do it!"

Harry, sitting in the last row, chuckled softly and turned to wave at Cassandra next to him.

Cassandra looked at him with a puzzled expression, not understanding what he meant.

"Come here," Harry whispered.

Cassandra leaned closer, and Harry whispered in her ear, "I have a good reason to suspect that every time they kiss, Hermione will instruct Ron on what to do, and Ron will ask why, while Hermione will scold him, 'Don't ask why.'"

Hearing Harry's mischievous remarks, Cassandra couldn't help but chuckle to herself.

Then he reached out and gently poked Harry's thigh.

"You're so mean," she said, rolling her eyes at Harry.

Harry chuckled and casually placed his hand on Cassandra's thigh.

Today, Cassandra wore a long dress with a cardigan on top. According to the principles of orthodox fashion, her outfit was extremely bizarre.

but...

Don't ask random questions in this world of numerical oddities. Just because someone is good-looking doesn't mean they can do whatever they want. Even if they wear a burlap sack, people will suspect it's some kind of high-end item.

However, given Cassandra's status, she wouldn't just casually wear a burlap sack.

After spending nearly two hours in the carriage, the altitude gradually decreased, and finally, with a sudden jolt, it came to a stop on the ground.

"We're here, kids," Sirius said to the group, who were still eager for more.

Harry stood up and followed the person in front of him down from the carriage.

The place they arrived at resembled a vast, desolate, misty swamp. Before them stood two weary, gloomy wizards, one holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of Parchment and a Quill.

Both men were dressed as Muggle, but they looked rather clumsy: the man with the gold watch wore a tweed suit jacket but tall, rubber boots that reached his thighs; his colleague wore a Scottish-style kilt and a South American cloak, the kind worn by men in the Scotland Scottish Highlands.

Fortunately, they didn't wear them off-center.

Harry stood at the back, not listening to what Mr. Weasley was talking to them about.

He was so focused on looking around that the place looked incredibly desolate.

"So, the World Cup is being held right here?" Fred shaded his eyes with his hand, asking George without turning around. "Sometimes I really wonder if the Ministry of Magic is any reliable at all—hey, Percy, what are you guys using to entertain our international guests, you bastard!"

"If this continues, the British wizarding world will become a laughing stock!" George chimed in, eager to stir up trouble.

Percy's expression was very unpleasant; he clearly considered himself a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic and had a strong sense of ownership.

"Don't talk nonsense!" he said, his face turning ashen. "This is just to mislead Muggle —don't you even use your brains? How could the Ministry of Magic possibly use this barren land as a Quidditch Match pitch?"

"Indeed." Ron, ever the gossipmonger, said, "On this point, I'm on Percy. I don't think Fudge would become that senile, or Crouch would be that senile either... Of course, it's unavoidable, after all, Mr. Crouch is so old, perhaps he'll develop dementia?"

Percy was clearly furious when he heard Ron talking about his idol.

"Shut up!" Percy roared angrily. "I won't allow you to talk about Mr. Crouch like that—do you know how much effort he's put into organizing this Quidditch World Cup all this time?"

"Yes, yes!" Ron and the Twins nodded in agreement with Percy. "Yes, Mr. Crouch is the best, he's the most amazing—is that what you want us to say?"

Percy was so angry that his face turned pale and then red. He pointed at his three unfortunate brothers and couldn't say a word for a long time.

"Alright," Mr. Weasley said, stepping forward at the opportune moment. "Stop arguing pointlessly. You're big kids now, and you shouldn't be doing these childish things—especially you two, Fred and George. Well, maybe you're right, but we should get going now."

"Setting off?" The Twins turned around together, looking left and right, asking, "Setting off what? What are we going to?"

"Of course, we'll go to the World Cup venue," Mr. Weasley said with a chuckle. "You don't really think the World Cup final will be held in this wasteland, do you? That would be absurd—even if Fudge wanted to do it, all the wizards in Britain wouldn't allow it; it would be too damaging to our image."

Hearing his father say that, Percy defiantly raised his chin and gave his three silly brothers a proud look.

They followed Mr. Weasley across the desolate swamp.

If they hadn't had Pathfinding Magic, they might have gotten stuck in the mud.

"Why don't we take a carriage and go straight to our destination?" Ron asked breathlessly, voicing his deepest question.

"Because it would be too conspicuous for us to ride in a carriage, especially since there are Muggle around here," Mr. Weasley had to explain to the children.

After walking for about twenty minutes, a door gradually appeared before them, followed by a small Stone House. Harry could barely make out hundreds of oddly shaped tents behind the Stone House, which stretched up a large, gentle slope that led to a dark forest on the horizon.

As they reached the entrance, a Muggle stood there, gazing at the tents in the woods, seemingly quite intrigued by the lively scene.

This Muggle is really conspicuous, after all, no wizard would wear such authentic Muggle clothing unless there are Muggle members in their family.

But obviously, if it were a wizard, they wouldn't be staring at that spot so intently.

Mr. Weasley ignored him and continued walking until he reached a camp of luxurious tents. He approached a wizard who appeared to be a staff member standing at the edge of the camp and began to exchange pleasantries.

Harry and the others stood at the back until Mr. Weasley finished greeting the wizard before leading everyone to a very ornate-looking tent.

The tents are provided; as VIP guests in the private rooms, you don't even need to bring your own tent or set it up yourself. They will prepare everything for you.

"These are our tents, children," Mr. Weasley said happily. "We'll be staying here for two days—of course, the World Cup matches start the day after tomorrow, which means we can stay at least two nights. Anything you'd like to say?"

"Yes," Fred said, raising his hand. "Then can we choose our own rooms?"

"Go ahead," Mr. Weasley waved his hand dismissively. "Go find it yourself. Remember to go out for dinner later—I mean, out for dinner. Nobody cooks for you here!"

"Okay, Dad!" the children said in unison, and went to Mr. Weasley, each receiving a few Galleon.

"What shall we eat tonight?" Harry asked Cassandra, turning to her.

"Anything is fine with me," Cassandra nodded and said.

"Then we..."

Before Harry could finish speaking, Sirius and Mr. Weasley called him to a halt.

"Harry." The two men walked up to Harry and said to him, "You need to come with us. This Quidditch World Cup is a global event, as you should know—so many Ministry of Magic officials from various countries have come here."

"Yes, I know." Harry was a little confused, wondering why the two of them were asking him this question.

What could I possibly do to them? Are you kidding me? I'm Harry Potter, not Voldemort ...

"Okay." Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder and said to him, "Someone from the Ministry of Magic just came by and said they'd like to invite you over. They said the Minister for Magic of Austria wants to see you."

The Austria Minister for Magic? He wants to see me?

Harry was completely baffled. The Austrian Minister of Magic remained a mystery; everyone knew that a new person had been chosen, but no one knew who it was.

What does this person want from me? Do I possibly know him?

With that in mind, Harry asked the question directly.

"The Austrian Minister of Magic? Do I know him?"

But Cassandra nearby, became alert.

Austrian Minister of Magic?

Could it be... that wicked woman, Grindelwald?

While it might seem far-fetched for a recent graduate to become Minister for Magic, Cassandra wouldn't be surprised at all if it happened to her.

What if it really is her?

"What's wrong?" Harry noticed Cassandra's unusual behavior and asked with concern.

"It's nothing," Cassandra shook her head and said to Harry, "Perhaps—well, you might actually know this person."

"Really?" Sirius's eyes lit up. "Harry, I didn't know you had such connections—no wonder that person wanted to see you so much..."

"No, I think the Austria Minister for Magic should be that guy Grindelwald!" Cassandra said with certainty, her expression clearly indicating that there was only one truth.

Upon hearing Cassandra's guess, everyone was taken aback at first, and then they all burst out laughing.

"How is that possible?" Harry gasped, clutching Cassandra's shoulder. "Veratia just graduated! How could she become Minister for Magic in Austria? It's impossible, absolutely impossible!"

Mr. Weasley didn't laugh out loud, but simply smiled and said, "You're mistaken, Miss Malfoy — the Austrian Minister of Magic is a respectable old Lady, at least that's what Old Barty told me—well then, let's pack up and get ready to go."

They left the tent together and walked towards the center of the area.

At the center was an extremely ornate tent. Harry followed Mr. Weasley inside, where two wizards stood guard at the entrance.

After verifying their identities, Harry and his friends followed the wizard who was leading the way to the door of a room inside.

The door reads "Austrian Ministry of Magic".

A knock sounded on the door, and the person inside said, "Come in."

Harry pushed open the door, looked up, and saw that the person sitting behind the desk was indeed someone he knew.

Isn't this Ms. Rosier. Vera Rozier?

Behind her stood a figure that Harry knew all too well.

It was Veratia. She wore gold-rimmed glasses and was holding a document in her arms. Noticing Harry's gaze, she quietly reached out and waved to him.

(End of this chapter)