214: Chapter 214 Krum Final

"Are you actually going to watch the match? Krum just shook off the Ireland Chaser!"

Draco Malfoy grabbed the railing, nearly pressing his entire body against the edge of the box. Green and red flags swirled together in the stands as the Ireland Chaser pierced through the Bulgaria defense, and the Quaffle smashed into the hoop, the cheering shaking the silver platter until it trembled.

Allen Potter stood in the back, his fingers pressing against the knut inside his sleeve, "I'm watching the departure."

"You came to the Quidditch World Cup to watch people leave?" Draco Malfoy turned his head, his face full of failed endurance, "You might as well go count footprints at the entrance of the Ministry of Magic."

Zabini handed over an untouched cup of pumpkin juice from the side, "Don't bother trying to persuade him. If he ever seriously watches a match one day, it means a Horcrux is buried under the pitch."

Nott lowered his head to write records, his pen tip unstopping, "Nineteen-forty-six, Lucius Malfoy left the box. Direction, the west side of the VIP passage. Returned to his seat at nineteen-fifty-one. There are grass clippings on the corner of his clothes, and new mud on the bottom of his walking stick."

Draco Malfoy's excitement was smashed back by these lines, "What can five minutes prove?"

"It proves he left in the middle of the match," Allen Potter said.

"Do you have to record going to the toilet too?"

"The pure-blood box has a private lavatory."

Draco Malfoy closed his mouth, his fingers going to touch the knut in his cuff again. Narcissa glanced at him from the back row, and he immediately put his hand down.

The pace on the pitch was frighteningly fast. Ireland Chasers' coordination beat down Bulgaria, while Krum searched alone for the Golden Snitch high in the air. The Veela's silver hair fluttered near the red stands, the Irish leprechauns rained a shower of gold coins into the audience, and the Weasley Twins leaned over the railing shouting about winning money.

Harry laughed brightly, and Ron followed along, roaring until his voice cracked. Hermione wasn't as invested; every few minutes, she would glance at Winky. Winky sat high up, her hands pressing against the armrests, the indentation on the empty seat beside her sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

Allen Potter closed his eyes for a moment, his Spatial Perception moving along the framework of the stands. The second void marker stopped on the heat source beside Crouch. In the sixty-fourth minute of the match, the heat source disappeared from the seat, Winky's shoulders shook violently, and then she also left by half a step, only to be pulled back to the edge of the seat by some force.

Peter was so anxious in the cage that his teeth were clattering, "He's struggling. Barty can't sit still. Crouch might have given an order, and Winky can't hold back an adult Wizard for long."

"Seventy-five minutes," Allen Potter watched the golden patterns report, "Heat source returned to position."

Nott quickly jotted it down, "Disappeared for eleven minutes. Crouch himself took no action. Fudge was talking at cross purposes with the Bulgaria Minister, and two of Ludo Bagman's betting slips dropped."

Zabini looked into the distance, "Brody has appeared."

Allen Potter finally turned his head. At the entrance of the security coordination area, a gray-haired Wizard holding a leather folder was going in and out, his chest badge unlit, accompanied by two ordinary Ministry of Magic employees. He didn't carry a brass dial, yet he stopped in front of the temporary Portkey schedule for four minutes and twenty seconds, signing a time discrepancy confirmation form.

"Twenty-one-thirteen, Silas Brody." Zabini put down his teacup, "A short stop in the security coordination area. Didn't go to the Minister's box, didn't go to the temporary tent of the Department of Mysteries."

Nott added, "It shows he is avoiding formal appearances."

Draco Malfoy got a headache from listening, "Do you have to record even a folder?"

"If a folder goes to the wrong place, it turns into an interrogation room," Zabini said.

The match was drawing to a close. Bulgaria was lagging too far behind in score when Krum suddenly dove, the Ireland Seeker in close pursuit, and everyone in the stadium stood up. Draco Malfoy forgot all his records, shouting until his voice cracked. Krum raised his hand close to the turf, and the Golden Snitch was clutched in his palm.

The next second, the scoreboard flashed the result. Bulgaria caught the Snitch, but Ireland still won by total score.

The entire stadium erupted. Green flags overwhelmed red flags; singing, cursing, laughing, and betting arguments mixed together. Ludo Bagman laughed loudly in the crowd, the Weasley Twins jumped up to hug, and Harry laughed along. Ron admired Krum while being dissatisfied with the score.

Draco Malfoy slapped the railing, "Krum is crazy! He'd rather lose than keep the match going!"

"His face was broken," Nott said, "Any longer and it'd fall off."

Draco Malfoy glared at him, "Can you stop writing the Quidditch match like an accident report?"

"Tonight, everything might turn into an accident report," Allen Potter withdrew his void marker, "The post-match begins."

Narcissa immediately stood up, "Draco, back to the tent."

Lucius had just returned from the other end of the corridor, carrying a faint scent of smoke and grass clippings. Seeing Narcissa holding onto Draco Malfoy, his walking stick paused for a moment, "It's still early for celebrations; the children can stay for a while."

Narcissa didn't back down, "He is tired."

Lucius looked at Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy still wore the excitement from the match on his face, the knut in his cuff pressing against his skin. He bit the tip of his tongue, "Father, I want to go back."

Several pure-blood boys in the box immediately jeered. Flint shouted from afar, "Malfoy, don't tell me you're afraid of your mother even for a post-match celebration!"

Draco Malfoy's face flushed red, his toes already turning away. Allen Potter reached out and pressed down on his shoulder, with just enough force and in the right spot to make him stop.

"Don't sleep too soundly tonight."

Draco Malfoy's temper was suppressed by these words. He looked at Lucius, then at Narcissa, and finally raised his chin, "I still have to see the Bulgaria players tomorrow, I won't waste time tonight."

Flint cursed that it was boring and walked towards another passage with a few upperclassmen. Lucius tapped his walking stick against the ground and didn't stop them again.

When walking out of the stadium, the crowd split everyone up quite apart. Allen Potter confirmed that when Harry left his seat, his wand was still in his right robe pocket; Hermione walked by his side, and Ron was holding a commemorative flag. Crouch's seat was already empty, and Winky had also left the high place, the invisible heat source leaving the stands and pointing towards the edge of the campsite.

Zabini caught up from the other side, "My mother went to the noblewomen's tent, and all three people around her were chatting about Fudge's hat. She told me not to approach any drunk pure-blood uncles."

"Good advice," Allen Potter said.

Nott closed his notebook, "The fault in Crouch's duty roster is even more obvious at night. Two patrolling Wizards were transferred to the Portkey landing site, leaving a section near the hay barn empty."

Draco Malfoy grew more annoyed the more he listened, "So where will the fire come from?"

"Few people, dense tents, close to the Muggle manager." Allen Potter folded the campsite map into a triangle, "The boundary between the southern ordinary area and the pure-blood area."

Draco Malfoy's face tightened instantly, "That's not far from the Malfoy tent."

"So don't take off your outer robe after returning, put your boots by the bed, and keep the knut on you."

Hearing the last sentence, Narcissa looked at Draco Malfoy's cuff, "What knut?"

Draco Malfoy choked for a second, "A lucky coin."

Allen Potter filled it in for him, "Sold by the Weasley Twins. To prevent boredom."

Narcissa clearly didn't believe it, but she only said, "Wear it properly."

The campsite grew noisier as the night deepened. Irish fans sang, Bulgarian fans quarreled, and the sound of clinking wine cups drifted from tents in the pure-blood area. Ministry of Magic employees ran back and forth in the distance; nobody wanted to be a party-pooper on the night of the victory and defeat.

Allen Potter returned to the small temporary tent and did not sleep. He arranged the three sets of knuts according to the northern hay barn, the Weasley campsite, and the Malfoy tent area. Inside the Portable Space, the void adhered to the ebony box, and the cracked pocket watch remained locked tight. Peter shrank in the corner of the cage, counting the cheers outside.

At one-forty-seven, Lucius's marker moved from the Malfoy tent area to the southern path.

At one-fifty-two, the residue of the Crouch family cut off from the direction of the upper stands.

At one-fifty-nine, the knut in Draco Malfoy's cuff grew warm.

Allen Potter picked up his wand.

"Here they come."