As she stood up to leave the top-floor box, Harley could still hear Fudge's furious cursing.
The British Minister for Magic had every reason to be furious. He'd bet fifty thousand Galleons on England Team!
At the time, he'd thought it was free money. Who could resist that kind of temptation?
But now the truth was clear: England Team had lost, and lost spectacularly...
Fudge's heart was broken!
"Throw them in Azkaban!" As she opened the door, Harley heard Fudge's furious shout clearly.
He didn't care that several high-ranking officials were sitting beside him, along with the Minister for Magic of Transylvania and several of his officials.
Of course, the Transylvanian Ministry of Magic wouldn't dare interfere in Britain's internal affairs, and the high-ranking officials from the British Ministry of Magic agreed with Fudge.
After all, those gambling addicts had also bet a lot of Galleons on England Team! They hated the team now!
In the end, though, Fudge still found a somewhat reasonable justification for his order:
"...I mean, send them to Azkaban for their own protection! Otherwise, I'm afraid our fans will beat these bloody useless players to death!"
Back at their tent, the four of them sat around the table, enjoying the dinner Kreacher had prepared.
After they'd brought Regulus's body back, Sirius had more or less completely reconciled with Kreacher and the old woman on his wall.
As long as Sirius didn't openly insult the House of Black, his mother basically left him alone.
Seeing that her former mistress was taking this attitude, Kreacher followed suit and began treating Master Sirius with more respect.
"England Team was truly embarrassing!" Professor McGonagall said angrily as she ate a fresh kidney pie.
"The last time they got beaten this badly was in a training match against Vietnam