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Fudge and the others did not stay long in the VIP box before leaving. As the host, and as Minister for Magic of the country that liked to style itself as one of the centers of wizarding civilization, he still had to go onstage and preside over the opening ceremony.
Very soon, the match officially opened: the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup.
Bulgaria and Ireland would compete for first place.
The first to appear were not the players from either team, but the two teams' mascots.
A neat scarlet formation moved across the pitch. Thunderous cheers immediately erupted from the stands, especially from the wizards. Quite a few looked as if they wanted to rush onto the field.
Because Bulgaria's mascots were very different.
They were Veela. A full hundred Veela glided onto the pitch, making the entire stadium boil over.
This half-human race carried a natural magical allure. Even when they did nothing, the charm around them pulled attention toward the pitch.
The effect reached its peak when the Veela began dancing.
Male wizards stared blankly downward.
Ron's eyes, for instance, had gone completely fixed. His legs moved toward the edge of the box without his control. Even Harry was not much better.
In the entire box, only Hermione and Dudley were unaffected.
It was not because Dudley was indifferent to women. It was because in his eyes, the Veela looked like harpies. More accurately, harpies with bird beaks.
If he could still react to that, his tastes would have to be very strange indeed.
"Clear-headed!"
Dudley waved his wand. The chill that rose through the others' minds restored their clarity.
"Where did your Occlumency practice go?"
Hearing that, several of them immediately turned their heads away. Then their eyes began losing focus.
Occlumency was also a good way to resist charm effects.
'It is said that when male wizards see Veela, their minds go blank and become wrapped in extreme joy.'
Watching the Veela below with a calm expression, Dudley thought about their traits.
If a wizard stayed with a Veela, would he no longer fear Dementors?
Or if Veela were used as an aid for practicing the Patronus Charm, would efficiency improve?
The dance soon ended. The Veela left the field one after another, and angry roars broke out from the stands. Clearly, the male wizards were unwilling to let them leave.
But they quieted down very quickly, because Ireland's mascots had appeared.
Leprechauns.
At the same time, glittering golden rain began falling from the sky.
They were gold coins.
At that moment, the crowd went wild again.
Beauty and money.
Both teams were playing little tricks.
Unfortunately, the beauty was false and the money was false.
Next, the two teams entered the field. When Krum appeared, cheers rang out again across the stadium. Clearly, this player was extremely popular.
"The Snitch is behind you."
"Too slow. Now it is beneath you."
"Left railing. Left."
Sitting in the stands, Dudley could completely keep up with the Golden Snitch flying everywhere. The others could not. Sorry, that included Krum.
If Dudley joined a competitive game like this, no one else would need to play.
Ireland's fundamentals were very solid, and their team coordination was far above Bulgaria's. They scored several goals almost with crushing momentum, and the score quickly opened to several dozen points against zero. Bulgaria was being beaten from start to finish.
If Bulgaria wanted to win, they could only rely on Krum catching the Golden Snitch and ending the match.
And he had to do it quickly.
A Snitch was only worth one hundred and fifty points. If the gap between the two teams exceeded one hundred and fifty points, catching it would still mean losing.
Halfway through the match, the mascots of both teams began fighting.
The Veela revealed their true forms one after another, making the wizards who had been entranced earlier shake their heads repeatedly.
The score had also reached ten to one hundred.
The two teams were clearly not on the same level. The gap was too large.
Dudley very much suspected that Bulgaria had reached the final because their semifinal opponents had been careless.
In the end, Krum caught the Golden Snitch with superb skill, but it was already useless. The gap between the two sides had exceeded one hundred and fifty points.
Amid endless sighs, the Quidditch World Cup ended.
Night.
The wizards who had watched the match returned to their tents. They gathered in groups, called friends over, talked loudly, boasted freely, and drank in great gulps. They were thoroughly enjoying themselves.
However, alcohol numbed the nerves. Even wizards were not exempt from that.
Alcohol also made people reckless. Most violent crowd incidents began after too much drink.
Too much drink led to trouble. Alcohol numbed the nerves and magnified the darker parts of human nature.
Most importantly, there were one hundred thousand wizards here, and not every wizard had the same character.
Mocking laughter, wild laughter, and shouting rang into the sky.
Drunken wizards staggered around but insisted on moving forward, though no one knew where they intended to go. Some simply lay on the ground and snored. Some hugged trees and did things better left undescribed.
And some wizards...
Cries rang through the wizarding campsite.
Four struggling figures floated in the air, their bodies being tugged and twisted into strange shapes.
They were the Muggle campsite managers from the second campsite, a family of four caught by drunken wizards.
The wizards laughed wildly. The Muggles screamed wildly.
What could be more exciting, more amusing, than tormenting Muggles?
People often turned violence toward those weaker than themselves.
The youngest Muggle being tortured by the wizards was only five or six years old. He was the child of the second campsite's manager. At this moment, his body spun like a top, his head lolling weakly to one side. He showed no reaction at all, looking as if he had lost consciousness, his life or death unknown.
Even with all this noise, it did not draw any wizard's attention. Or rather, the wizards inside the tents heard it, but they chose silence.
No wizard would clash with a crowd of drunkards for the sake of a few Muggles.
Especially not when there were so many of them.
More and more wizards joined the group tormenting the Muggles. They wore hoods over their heads and masks over their faces, as if afraid someone might recognize them.
What was the Ministry, which should have been maintaining order, doing at this moment?
Minister Fudge was lying in his tent, sleeping soundly, as if he had no idea what was happening outside.
Senior Undersecretary Umbridge was drinking coffee and admiring the cats on her wall.
Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, was counting Galleons in his room.
In fact, among one hundred thousand wizards, Fudge was not the only Minister for Magic present.
None of them stepped forward.
It was like that old warning: first they came for the neighbors, and I said nothing. Then they came for friends, and I stayed silent. When they came for family, I still did not stand up. And now it is my turn.
The frenzied wizards set fire to the tents around them.
This was a planned attack.
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