"Bulgaria wins!"
Ludo Bagman, with a stern face, solemnly announced, "Krum caught the Golden Snitch... His final flying maneuver was unimaginably brilliant. This Seeker, participating in the World Cup for the first ti, showcased astonishing talent..."
His tone seed out of sync with the cheering atmosphere in the stadium, but nobody cared about that. Only Bagman himself felt heartbroken while announcing the end of the semifinals with an amplifying spell.
Before the match, he had been touting Bulgaria’s high odds of winning, but his heart held a completely opposite view.
Bagman was once a professional player for the Wimborne Hornets, and even now he liked to wear their team uniform. His proudest identity was as a Quidditch player, not the head of the Ministry of Magic’s Magic Gas and Sports Departnt.
In short, Bagman was very confident in his judgnt. He believed that a young player like Krum, who was only eighteen, would definitely lack the psychological quality needed for such a big match, and had little chance of winning the semifinals. Yet he indeed won.
As Bagman calculated the money he lost this ti, his mind buzzed, and he almost stumbled while walking down the stairs.
So were happy while others were sad. In a box a few levels away, Trelawney was calculating her gambling winnings, unable to close her mouth from smiling.
She pulled up her wide, colorful scarf to cover her mouth, silently laughed for a while, then controlled her expression and said in a dreamy, ethereal tone:
"This is the guidance of destiny. My Celestial Eye had already foreseen this mont... Ah, let see, let see the shadow under the moon..."
Everyone in the box stared at this "great" prophet with awe, only one or two people looking up at the sun rising above the clouds with puzzled expressions.
Trelawney spoke whatever ca to mind, not caring if it was appropriate for the occasion. She had already confird the results and only needed to embellish them.
"I see... a shattered tower, a great upheaval approaching... I hear the cawing of crows and the roaring of black dogs..."
Trelawney trembled violently, extending her slender arms as if trying to touch so invisible presence in the air.
The won beside her widened their eyes, holding their breath, not daring to disturb her divination.
Suddenly, Trelawney shook violently, collapsing into the armchair, covering her eyes as if she had seen sothing unspeakable.
After a long while, a round-faced witch quietly asked, "What happened, Professor Trelawney, is it..."
— Is Grindelwald about to attack the United Kingdom?
She was about to ask but hadn’t voiced it when she saw Trelawney lower her hands, her gaze sweeping around the people with a look of pitiful sympathy.
"Poor souls, you will one day understand... Fate never lies..."
"What did you see, Professor?" another older woman asked, her voice trembling.
Trelawney gave a mysterious smile and said, "I saw the end, and I also saw the result of the final..."
The crowd was silent for a mont.
She spoke so seriously, as if the end of the world was coming, but it was just the outco of the final?
They all felt a bit speechless, but realizing that others had not believed Trelawney before and missed the chance to make money, they thought that Trelawney’s unique way of expressing things might indeed have its rits.
"Want to bet with again?" Trelawney, with an ethereal gaze, stared into the distance and said, "You may doubt, but fate only favors its true believers..."
The group hesitated no longer and pulled out their money bags, soon piling the table with Golden Galleons.
...
The crowd flowed out of the stadium like a tide. The match had lasted nearly fifteen hours, leaving most of the audience who stayed to the end utterly exhausted.
As a result, many people Disapparated right from the stands. Vid and his group, having had a warm breakfast, felt relatively refreshed and stayed in the box a little longer, waiting for the crowd to clear before heading back to camp.
As they descended the stairs, they happened to see the back of the Bulgaria Team ahead of them. The once impressive Krum now walked at the back of the team with an obvious duck-footed gait, his deanor gloomy and shoulders slightly slouched.
He looked far from impressive now, sowhat lackluster, and his walking was sluggish.
However, Harry, seeing his idol, was overjoyed with "ten-level filters," waved enthusiastically, and shouted, "Vid... look, it’s Krum!"
Krum... Krum... Krum...
The boy’s excited voice echoed in the passageway, causing all the team mbers to stop and look back instinctively.
The few of them had probably just taken so dicine for colds. Their once blue and white faces were flushed, and long wisps of smoke rose from their ears, making them look silly both in expression and gaze.
Harry: "..."
Krum nodded toward the young fan but did not speak, whereas another player waved and smiled, and the group continued on together.
"Let’s go," Sirius said, patting Harry on the shoulder.
Harry walked silently for a while, and after exiting the stadium, seed to recover from the impact earlier. He leaned next to Vid with so regret and said:
"I actually forgot to bring a quill... Do you think next ti we et, he might give an autograph?"
"Who?" Vid distractedly asked.
"Who else could it be? Of course, Victor Krum!" Harry emphasized, "One of the best Seekers in the world!"
"You could exchange autographs with him," Vid suggested half-heartedly, "You’re Harry Potter! Maybe he wants your autograph, too!"
"Really?" Harry said worriedly, "But I’m not like him, he has real skills... And he left without saying a word just now..."
"Maybe he was in a hurry to rest and didn’t see your face," Vid said. "Be confident. When you reach his age, maybe you’ll join the national team as well."
Harry fell into another round of contemplation, muttering words like "Seeker," "Auror," "World Cup," clearly troubled by his future career choices.
Vid unconsciously glanced at the fur tent, seeing a tall, wild-man-like figure erge from it, holding a small tin can.
A large cauldron hung over a fire pit, with water boiling inside it. The man pinched so black substance from the tin and sprinkled it into the cauldron, seemingly putting great care into his cooking.
Vid smiled and walked past.
In the distant forest, giant trees swayed, their leaves producing a "shh shh shh" sound, like a low whisper.
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