The Ferris wheel crested its highest point just as the first stars began to prick the sky.
Below them, Thorpe Park glowed—paths traced in gold and neon, rides pulsing with light, laughter drifting upward in softened echoes.
From this height, the chaos of the day beca sothing gentler, almost orderly, a living constellation of joy.
Cassius rested his arms along the safety bar, gaze distant.
Ginny leaned forward between the seats. "Alright," she said quietly, "admit it."
He glanced sideways.
"You enjoyed today."
Cassius huffed a soft breath. "I did not dislike it."
His attempts to appear tsundere like his father did not go over to well, with all the girls looking at him and smiling a smile of knowing.
"That's a yes," Ginny declared, satisfied.
For the remainder of the ride, they all sat in relative silence just enjoying the day that was, for what it was.
The wheel turned.
For Cassius, the noise in his head—calculations, contingencies, futures—finally stilled.
And then, inevitably, reality returned.
Three days later, a cream-colored envelope arrived at Grimmauld Place, bearing the seal of the Ministry of Magic.
Cassius recognized the crest instantly.
Departnt of Magical Gas and Sports.
He broke the seal with practiced calm.
Mr. Cassius Snape,You are hereby requested to attend a formal consultation regarding the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.
Your presence is required.— Ludo Bagman
Cassius exhaled slowly.
"So it begins," he murmured.
The Ministry atrium buzzed with its usual orchestrated chaos—witches and wizards darting between fireplaces, enchanted mos flitting overhead, the golden statue gleaming impassively above it all.
Cassius walked alone.
Sirius of course wanted to go with him, but he denied the request, this was sothing personal and well its not like his contract was up for renegotiation, or anything he would just be receiving new robes to show Britains prominence, along with a speech about how this wasn't just quidditch but a matter of national pride and showing the glory of Britains magical society.
He wore simple robes, dark and unadorned, registered like always seeing as he was a visitor to the ministry.
Despite his age, no one stopped him as he walked into one of the many magical elevators.
A few stared.
So whispered.
By now, the Ministry knew his na, his face was afterall the posterboy of British magical sport right now.
The lift deposited him at Level Seven.
Departnt of Magical Gas and Sports exploded with color and noise—banners of various teams draped along the walls, enchanted posters replaying famous goals, animated mascots arguing loudly in corners.
Ludo Bagman spotted him instantly.
"Cassius!" Bagman bood, striding forward with arms wide. "There he is! Britain's golden snitch-snatcher himself!"
Cassius inclined his head politely. "You asked to see ."
"Yes, yes—straight to business," Bagman said, already steering him toward a conference room. "This is… ah… rather important."
Inside, the atmosphere shifted.
The room was large, circular, dominated by a floating projection of a Quidditch pitch surrounded by sixteen hovering flags.
Britain. Ireland. Bulgaria. Brazil. Japan. Egypt. Canada. France. Germany. Australia. Peru. Uganda. Romania. Spain. Norway. South Africa.
Sixteen teams.
At the table sat a collection of officials—analysts, coaches, Unspeakables seconded for "statistical consultation," and one grim-faced wizard Cassius recognized from the Wizengamot.
The door closed.
Bagman's grin faded—just slightly.
"Right," he said. "Let's not dance around it."
The poster shifted.
Britain's team roster appeared.
Every position filled.
Every statistic listed.
Then highlighted as the only one in gold—
Seeker: Cassius Snape
A silence fell.
Bagman clasped his hands. "I'll be blunt. Without you, Britain doesn't make it past the first match."
Cassius didn't react outwardly, though inwardly he noted the phrasing.
Not 'unlikely.'
Not 'difficult.'
Doesn't.
One of the analysts leaned forward, adjusting her spectacles. "We've run the numbers, even divination experts showed your absence would spell disaster for Britain in the tournant."
"But it's not all bad news..." Bagman carried on with a light tone, and a chuckle. "However with you being present... victory is all but assured."
Cassius raised an eyebrow.
There wasn't just a chance of victory, they had declared victory was assured, in the end Cassius had no reason to deny them that fact.
His Aeriuesbolt supre was the fastest broom in the world, while his rigourous training both on the pitch and off made sure his instincts and senses were at their peak.
The grim-faced wizard snorted. "You catch the Snitch faster than anyone alive. Including professionals with decades on you."
Bagman nodded eagerly. "You're our hope, the ans to bringing the cup ho to Britain for the first ti in years kid."
Cassius folded his hands behind his back. "So you called here, to tell that not only you, but the whole nation want to pin their hopes on winning on my shoulders?"
"No," Bagman said quickly. "We're telling you we already have."
Again he didnt refuse though ntally he thanked the gods he was ntally aged, otherwise the pressure as a child would surely crush him.
Instead as the discussion advanced Cassius found out that the bracket had already been created and all teams were aware of their first round opponents.
For Cassius and Britain, their first round opponent was Egypt.
...
The tournant was rough, unlike muggle sports with multi-ga best of X eliminations.
This was a single chance elimination, sudden death type of play.
Given the nature of the gas, and the fact they could go on for days to possibly weeks, the single ga structure made sense, though getting more chances to advance would be nice for fans.
But for Cassius he was more focused on the other teams listed for the contest.
Bulgaria—with Krum.
Ireland—disciplined, relentless.
Brazil—unpredictable flyers.
Japan—precision formations.
Every match would be lethal, as the pride of nations would be up for grabs.
But for Cassius, this sport was just another ans to get his na out there to the world, earning him prestige on the world stage, not just as a Genius level child duelist, but also as a force to be reckoned with on a broom.
Once his plans advanced enough to have him rise up as the figurehead, and hidden secret leader of the Magical revolution, more would be inclined to join his cause, than if he beca imfamous and followed the path of Voldemort trying to gain supporters and followers through fear alone.
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