Killing Death... would feel so damn good!

10:390

The Transylvania showed some respect and didn't completely shut out England team in the opening match.

In fact, they almost did it.

Just as the England wizards were about to charge in with their wands, ready to unleash an Avada Kedavra on each of them, at the crucial moment... the old coach roared at the goalkeeper:

"You'd die if you let me win by one goal?!"

The gatekeeper, supposedly a bus ticket seller, shrugged, looking quite aggrieved.

"I gave up the opportunity, but they couldn't make the open shots. What could I do?"

"Of course people are nervous when you're standing next to the hoop! But if someone's standing behind you when you go to the bathroom, wouldn't you be nervous?!"

Get your ass twenty meters away from the hoop!

And so, this scene unfolded on the field:

The Transylvania Team goalkeeper was too far from the post, while the England Chaser, after hitting the post on the first attempt, only managed to score on the second.

As the ball went in, Transylvania's Seeker caught the Golden Snitch.

The match is over!

When the England team landed on his Firebolt, his eyes were filled with confusion and tears.

who I am,

Where am I?

Did we crush our opponents with a score of 390?

When he saw a dozen reporters and his assistant rushing over with a camera... even though it was summer, his heart felt as cold as if it were winter.

what to do?

What excuse can you make after such a crushing defeat?

During the last Quidditch World Cup, he was just a junior player. The veteran captain explained it by saying that the whole team suffered from diarrhea due to the change in environment.

Yes, it's due to the change in environment!

Wait... in which country is this competition taking place?

The reporter was less than 200 meters away and was still sprinting towards the finish line.

Security guards, Auror, quickly block these reporters and prevent them from conducting interviews.

Who let them in!

Just as the England team was about to faint for a moment to cover up his embarrassment, the Transylvania players rushed over, tossed him into the air, and began to celebrate.

"Merlin, you son of a bitch!" he roared.

Why are you throwing this at me? I'm not even on your team!

Reporters quickly snapped photos... tomorrow's headline is ready.

"Let's go, children."

In the VIP box, Nicolas stood up and glanced at the stadium. Based on his years of experience watching football, he knew things were bound to get chaotic tonight.

He just saw a large group of England fans burning jerseys.

As everyone descended the crimson carpeted stairs, a loud, boisterous commotion filled the night air.

England fans were besieged. But it wasn't other countries' fans attacking; it was Ireland, Scotland, and Wales fans...

These days, England fans have gotten too cocky and have annoyed all sorts of fans.

Now that they've lost the match, instead of playing dead, they're clamoring that it was a fixed match.

I'll beat you scum to death!

Wizards from other countries waved their flames and laughed merrily.

Inside the tents of the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, many teachers had gathered.

"So, you don't have a single clue?" Fudge asked impatiently.

He felt it was a waste of time; all the professors in front of him were watching the game, and he wasn't particularly familiar with the key administrator.

Since they weren't familiar with each other, Fudge's case was easy to close.

He knew that the descendants of the United States Scourers had irreconcilable conflicts with the Magical Congress of the United States of America.

This has a bit of Death Eaters / Ministry of Magic feel to it.

Let's say this person was killed by the Scourers in order to provoke conflict between Britain and the United States.

People will not be focusing on security issues at the Quidditch World Cup.

Fudge is always quick-witted when it comes to shifting blame and making excuses.

He was about to leave when he suddenly looked at one of the wizards, frowned, and asked, "Professor Targaryen, do you know a Stark wizard?"

"I've heard of it, but I've never seen it."

The Ancient Runes professor named Targaryen shook his head.

"You two look so alike," Fudge remarked.

"Many people have said that, but I have never met this famous wizard."

"William is very busy, but we get along quite well. I'll mention it to him next time I see him... you."

Fudge was about to say something when Tonks rushed in in a panic.

"What's wrong, Tonks?!"

Fudge couldn't bear to see his subordinates with those expressions, because it meant... something was wrong.

really...

"Minister, something's happened." Tonks took a breath. "The spectators are fighting; they've surrounded the England team and are trying to beat them up."

I want to beat them up!

Fudge, after all, had some manners and didn't voice his true feelings.

"Immediately send Auror to stop them; if they don't stop, arrest them all and throw them in Azkaban."

After giving his instructions, Fudge also left in a hurry.

Everyone dispersed. Professor Targaryen walked back to his room alone.

He closed the door, sat at the table, and rested his chin on his hands, seemingly deep in thought.

Suddenly, a voice sounded from behind.

Professor Targaryen whirled around, his right hand pointing forward, and the wand hidden in his sleeve shot out a slender yet dazzling white beam through the air.

But the spell passed through the shadow without causing any harm.

Professor Targaryen frowned, staring at the strange shadow.

The shadow smiled slightly, exuding an air of mystery and arrogance.

He said in a weary tone, "Can you kill me? No one in this world can kill me."

"Who are you?" Professor Targaryen asked.

Who I am isn't important; what matters is... what I can help you... get out of it.

The shadow spoke in a deep, magnetic, and seductive voice.

Professor Targaryen cast a disdainful glance at the shadows and sat down in his chair.

"Quite the boast... I want the England National Team to win, can you give it to me?"

"..."

The shadow took a deep breath.

"It's wise of you not to attack me. No one in this Wizarding World can kill me; if someone could, I'd be quite happy."

The shadow's tone was frighteningly loud; he sighed:

"I have been wandering alone in this world for countless years."

"What do you want with me?" Professor Targaryen interrupted.

If your answer does not satisfy me, I will immediately contact the United Kingdom Auror.

The key keeper just died. You've been acting so suspiciously; I bet you're the one who killed him!

"..."

"Think what you will..." the shadowy voice said, cutting straight to the point.

"Professor, I attended your Ancient Runes in Ilvermorny, especially your speculations about powerful ancient magic."

His gaze was fixed on Targaryen's eyes.

"This power... in essence, is something we can call Prehistoric Mysteries."

The young professor, who looked very much like Stark, sat up straight, his eyes flashing with curiosity.

"Prehistoric Mysteries... a rather strange name."

The shadow laughed; the bait had been taken.

"The greatest power lost by wizards, and I know where a part of that power is hidden." The voice from the shadows was now brimming with pride.

"I can guide you to find it... under certain conditions."

The young professor chuckled and looked towards the shadow. "So this is why you're here, Mr. Shadow?"

"You want to recruit me to work for you? What if I refuse?"

"Don't be so quick to refuse, Professor." The shadow chuckled.

"This power is hidden very deeply; only a wizard who receives guidance can find it."

I know you crave him. Yes, who could resist such a thirst for knowledge, a wizard?

Therefore, I suggest... carefully consider whether or not you want to seize this opportunity before making a decision.

"An opportunity?" Targaryen said. "What opportunity? To help a cowardly fellow?"

"There are many great mysteries in the world, child," the shadow sighed. "Those secrets are beyond your wildest imagination."

These powers have either been lost or hidden away by powerful wizards.

Perhaps it will be revealed to the world during your lifetime.

At that time, this power will bring about a great moment of transformation for wizards... and you will have the opportunity to play an important role in that moment.

I need you to consider this very seriously. It's easy to refuse me, but wisdom is a rare treasure.

Targaryen remained silent.

"... Come, young Targaryen... follow me... help me... and gain immortality or wisdom."

Targaryen asked, "Who exactly are you?"

"I once claimed to be escaping death..." Tom stared at Targaryen.

"From this day forward, I am Death!"

The shadow departed.

Professor Targaryen sat in his chair and said slowly, "Come out, he's gone."

No one came out, but a voice rang out.

"Professor, how did you know I was here?"

Professor Babbling didn't reply, but said impatiently, "What are you doing here?"

"I want to see... how Tom tricks you."

"You saw it?"

"I must say... he's really eloquent, and he paints a great picture of the future. I'm even a little tempted."

"Then you'll cooperate with him?"

"They're called the Death... Is there anyone who cooperates with the Death?"

"Of course there is!" Babbling said calmly.

"There really is?" William raised an eyebrow and gave Babbling a deep look.

"But rather than cooperating with Death... I'd rather kill him."

Defeating Death... that feeling... must be awesome!

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I owe you Chapter Seventeen!

The beautiful nurse is giving me CPR, doing her last hurdle.