Compared to the wide range of leisure and entertainnt available to Muggles, wizards seem to lag far behind—or perhaps their pastis are simply more limited.
When it cos to wizarding entertainnt, the options are few: the long-standing tradition of wizard dueling, wizard chess—where the pieces’ might matters more than the player’s skill—or Quidditch, the sport every wizard grows up hearing about.
Beyond those three, there really aren’t many other familiar forms of recreation. Perhaps that’s why, whenever a world-class event takes place, it always turns into a grand and lively affair.
Among such events, the Quidditch World Cup—held every four years—is without question the largest and most celebrated of all.
This year’s final match features the Irish National Team facing off against the Bulgarian National Team for the world championship.
And fittingly, the final is being held right here in the British Isles...
...
Malfoy Manor.
“Darling, hurry and get ready. Astoria and the others are joining us to watch this year’s World Cup. What a pity Parkinson and her family went abroad—otherwise, they could have co with us.”
Hearing the reminder from downstairs, Draco set aside his book. Faintly, he could still catch the last few muttered words trailing off.
For a tournant held only once every four years, Draco—who had never experienced the World Cup before—was genuinely interested. It wasn’t every day one got to attend a world-class sporting event.
Unfortunately, Pansy, who adored Quidditch, wouldn’t be able to join him this ti. After all, if the Irish team hadn’t made it to the finals, who knew how long it would be before the next World Cup ca to Britain again? Hosting rights for Quidditch were always fiercely contested.
Draping his robe over his shoulders and tucking his wand inside, Draco made his way downstairs.
From the sound of things, Astoria had already arrived.
“I wonder how Pansy’s doing... I hope everything’s going smoothly.”
Draco was well aware of Pansy’s trip abroad—and he knew exactly why she had to go.
Truth be told, if the matter hadn’t been so important to her, there’s no way Pansy would have missed this year’s World Cup. Nor would she have left an opening for Astoria to spend ti with him instead...
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Draco caught sight of Astoria stepping into the entrance hall.
“Darling, look who’s here~”
“Good afternoon, Draco.”
Astoria greeted him with a flawless display of aristocratic grace. It was hard to imagine that beneath that polished deanor was the sa mischievous girl he knew in private. Anyone unfamiliar with her would never be able to connect the two sides.
Of course, Draco had no intention of calling her out. He could already guess the real reason behind her visit.
Because, for reasons best left unspoken, his own mother—who had a hint of a mischievous streak herself—had decided on her own to bring Astoria along to the match, without so much as informing her family.
That, clearly, suggested she had sothing in mind.
What surprised Draco even more was that the Greengrass family, who almost never attended public events, had actually agreed to it.
And so, Astoria was here...
...
“Have so pastries first. Once Lucius returns, we can head out.”
After Draco ca downstairs, Narcissa gestured for Astoria to sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies.
Though maintaining a polite smile, Draco still noticed how Astoria’s eyes lit up at the sight of the sweets.
Withdrawing his gaze from her, he looked toward his mother, puzzled by the faintly amused smile on her face.
“Where’s Father? Still busy with the World Cup organization?”
“Yes,” Narcissa replied with a sigh. “I don’t know why your father suddenly took an interest in it. He’s never even liked Quidditch.”
At that, Narcissa herself seed a bit confused. Everyone knew the task was both strenuous and thankless—coordinating the transport and accommodation of so many wizards heading to the tournant site was no easy job.
After all, it was the World Cup—a massive event drawing wizards from all over the world.
In the days leading up to the tournant, countless witches and wizards would pour into Britain. Based on past experience, even a conservative estimate put the number at over a hundred thousand attendees.
Naturally, the Ministry of Magic had been overwheld.
Just keeping order among that many wizards was enough to give the officials headaches.
In addition to keeping foreign visitors from causing disturbances in Britain, the Ministry also had to manage the logistics of their travel.
While so wizards could use Muggle transport, that option was limited. They couldn’t risk too many wizards appearing openly in the Muggle world—and most wizards wouldn’t deign to use such ans anyway.
So, beyond regulating Apparition, the Ministry also had to arrange and oversee the use of Portkeys for transport to the match grounds.
Portkeys—magical objects capable of instantly transporting people from one location to another.
Compared to Apparition, they were more stable and easier to create, though far more strictly regulated as a result.
Before one could craft a Portkey, it had to be registered and approved by the Ministry, and unauthorized use was strictly forbidden.
With the Ministry short-staffed, Lucius Malfoy had unexpectedly volunteered to assist in managing the process. That, of course, was why Draco hadn’t seen his father around the manor recently.
Just then, the heavy front doors swung open.
“Lucius, you’re back?” Narcissa called out.
“Yes,” Lucius replied, stepping inside. “Is everyone ready? It’s about ti we left. The timing should be perfect.”
The man who entered was none other than Lucius Malfoy.
Unlike the ordinary wizards—those who had to buy cheaper tickets and arrive weeks in advance to secure a spot—Draco and his family had the privilege of traveling directly to the match on ga day.
Even so, Draco couldn’t help but notice the look on his father’s face.
Lucius’s expression was far more serious than usual, as though sothing significant was about to happen...
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