Ti did not so much pass as it jumped.
One mont Grimmauld Place still slled faintly of paint, fabric, and anticipation—and the next, Ireland unfolded beneath a wide gray sky, rolling green hills stretching to the horizon like a living tapestry.
Portkeys were never elegant.
Cassius landed with practiced ease, boots barely disturbing the grass as the air snapped back into place around him.
The girls, less accustod, staggered in varying degrees—Ginny laughing as she caught herself, Hermione already adjusting her bag, Daphne recovering her composure with almost aristocratic speed.
Luna blinked at the sky. "The clouds here feel… excited," she observed.
Cho smiled faintly. "I think that's just you Luna."
All around them, witches and wizards arrived in flashes of displaced air, laughter, shouting, flags unfurling almost imdiately.
The sound was the first thing that truly struck Cassius—not noise, but scale.
Thousands of voices, layered with accents from across the globe, blending into a constant hum of anticipation.
The Quidditch World Cup.
Not the school stands.
Not the national leagues.
This was sothing else entirely.
Ginny latched onto Cassius's arm without hesitation, grinning like she'd just won a bet.
"Right," she declared. "We're doing this properly."
Cho slid in on his other side, equally casual.
Hermione followed half a step behind, close enough that her shoulder brushed his cloak.
Daphne and Astoria flanked them neatly, while Luna drifted just behind, hands clasped behind her back like she was attending a parade.
From the outside, it was unmistakable.
Harem...
Cassius was keenly aware of it the mont the looks started.
Envy, first.
Then curiosity.
Then—occasionally—open scorn.
He ignored all of it.
They moved through the early camps where fans had already staked claims, tents blooming like strange, colorful fungi across the hills.
Flags waved—Brazil's green and gold, Bulgaria's crimson, Japan's stark white and red, Egypt's sun-and-gold sigils stitched with ancient motifs.
Britain's banners were there too.
More than a few bore his na.
Cassius did not react, his entire ti playing for Britain he'd grown used to seeing his own face on promotional materials or even in the papers.
Aurors patrolled in visible pairs, eyes sharp, hands never far from their wands.
Event organizers moved with practiced urgency, shouting directions, warding zones, checking credentials.
More than one paused mid-step when Cassius passed, recognition flickering across their faces.
Whispers followed.
"That's him."
"Thirteen, they say."
"Fastest seeker alive."
"He's that young?"
Cassius kept walking.
Ginny leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You're making people nervous."
"Good," he replied evenly.
The stadium revealed itself gradually—first as a shadow on the horizon, then as a rising mass of tal and enchantnt that seed to grow the closer they ca.
It was colossal.
Towering spires of steel and magic spiralled upward, banners snapping in the wind at impossible heights.
Enchanted supports shimred faintly, humming with contained power.
From this distance, the roar of the crowd inside was a living thing, a heartbeat that resonated through the earth.
It looked exactly as the stadium had when watching it through a screen witnessing its granduer from the fourth cinematic movie.
A monstrous cathedral to sport, rivaling the Roman Collesium itself.
Astoria stopped walking entirely. "It's… bigger than Hogwarts."
"That's because it's temporary," Hermione said softly. "They don't build like this unless they an to leave an impression. Otherwise it would take far to much effort to conceal this long term from the muggles."
Cassius studied it in silence.
Impression indeed.
As they approached the secured entrances, officials began checking credentials more thoroughly.
A Ministry witch glanced at Cassius's papers, did a double take, then straightened instantly.
"Welco," she said, voice suddenly far more respectful. "Team Britain's quarters are prepared."
Cassius inclined his head.
Behind them, a group of fans watched openly—so cheering, others muttering.
One wizard scoffed openly.
"Relying on a child," he sneered. "Pathetic."
Cassius didn't slow.
Ginny, however, shot the man a sharp grin over her shoulder. "You're welco to leave before he embarrasses your favourites."
The wizard flushed crimson.
Inside the secured grounds, the atmosphere shifted again—less chaotic, more focused.
Teams moved in disciplined clusters, robes marked with national crests, equipnt cases floating alongside them.
Cassius saw them as data points rather than rivals.
Egypt's colors stood out imdiately—white and gold, robes embroidered with protective sigils that spoke of heat, endurance, and speed.
Their seeker was older, probably in his late twenties, or early thirties, lean, eyes sharp beneath a sun-patterned helm.
Cassius t his gaze briefly.
The man nodded once, respectful.
Cassius returned it.
Never underestimate.
The girls were ushered toward the family and supporters' section, their banners carefully rolled and chard to unfurl at the right mont.
Ginny squeezed Cassius's arm once more before letting go.
"Catch it fast," she said fiercely. "Make them rember."
Hermione smiled, quieter. "Just… fly safe."
Cho t his eyes, confidence steady. "We'll be watching."
Daphne inclined her head. "Win cleanly."
Luna tilted her head. "The Snitch is already afraid of you."
Cassius exhaled slowly.
"I'll see you after," he said.
He turned away before they could say more.
The tunnel leading to the pitch was vast, lit by enchanted torches that burned without heat.
The sound of the crowd grew louder with every step, a tidal force pressing against his senses.
Other players passed him—so curious, so dismissive, so openly hostile.
None mattered.
At the edge of the tunnel, the pitch opened up in a blaze of color.
The setup for the first official match of the tournant was already completed.
As he gazed Cassius imagined the roar of the crowd, the absolute deafening buzz of excitent brought about by tens of thousands of fans who would make their way into the stadium the day after tommorow for the opening match.
Stepping onto the field.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Green grass.
Towering goalposts.
Sky stretching endlessly above.
This was not Hogwarts.
This was not Britain.
This was the world.
Taking in the sight before him, Cassius tried to keep himself grounded but was unable to resist the surge of adrenaline brought about by, by the thought of being able to compete against the wizarding world greatest players.
To get to show off his research institutes creation in his broom, all while growing the legend that is Cassius Snape for all the world to see.
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