Chapter 364: Ten Galleon Bet
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
If there was one thing that brought joy to the magical community of the British Isles, it would be the magical sport of Quidditch. If someone went out looking, they would find a Quidditch fan before they exited their home street. The singular sport had grown the level of religion in the lives of people who loved to play, talk, and watch the sport with more passion than any other thing in their lives.
The sport was almost like a drug. People couldn't get enough of high-speed flying, high chances of collisions, and the guaranteed promise of thrill and excitement. International matches with national teams were events that the people were extremely attached to and felt a lot about— but they weren't enough; people wanted more Quidditch.
To remedy that almost insatiable demand, regional Quidditch leagues were started— not only giving the people a chance to enjoy more Quidditch but also allowing more players a chance to play and make a living out of it. And such a pressing need was met, it was bound to make money, and when things made money, people who owned them wanted to make money. So, the business of regional leagues and sports teams grew to the point that they became household names.
People would gather up in the stadium every game to support their teams and have an evening of Quidditch fun full of screaming, shouting, booze, and stadium food. Even in Hogwarts, people would follow the game through commentary on the magical radio— every game night, people would gather in the common room to tune in and have a jolly communal time.
And today, Quinn had come to one such game. He sat down at his chair in the VIP box situated inside the stadium's prime location with his big glass of iced tea. He was at the optimal height and could see the action without straining his neck.
Unlike most people in this country, Quinn wasn't a big fan of the game. He had only been to a couple games in his life, and while the energy of the people in the stadium was enjoyable and a unique experience when using Legilimency on the people, the game itself didn't excite Quinn.
But today was a special occasion.
Today, at The British and Irish Quidditch League, Puddlemore United vs. Appleby Arrows— Eddie Carmichael was making his professional debut as part of the Puddlemore United, flying since 1163, the oldest club in the existence of English Quidditch.
Quinn couldn't keep the smile off his face. Eddie wasn't supposed to debut today. A young athlete like Eddie, who didn't have any prior professional experience, wouldn't play in the top league; instead, they build up experience in a secondary league playing in a junior team owned by the club; when he showed results, he would be called up to play on the big scene.
But Eddie was Eddie. Quinn didn't know what he did, but Eddie had somehow convinced the management to let him play in a game. In a sport where a team only had seven players, it was a considerable risk to replace one regular out with a fresh-out-of-school rookie. But Eddie had done it.
"Puddlemore must be really desperate to have a kid play. They've been falling the past years today; they're going to be wiped out by the fucking Arrows," said someone sitting beside Quinn in the VIP booth.
Puddlemore United had been a successful franchise for centuries; even now, it was standing at number two in the season rankings. Unfortunately, the team failed to show results where it mattered the most. The club had entered a long championship drought that didn't look like it wanted to end. The oldest team had already dropped down to number three on the rankings of the most championships won by a club. Because the team was still strong and successful, the loyal long-time fans supported it wholeheartedly, but it had seen a slight dip in attracting a younger, newer fresh blood who supported the team.
Quinn stared at the old man and raised his index finger, lying flat against the armrest, and silently and sneakily cast a spell. The old man would feel thirsty no matter how much he drank for the next twenty-four hours.
A loud horn marked the entrance of the players. Quinn got up and leaned against the railings to see as Puddlemore United came flying out, dressed in navy blues emblazoned with two crossed golden bulrushes. His smile turned toothy when he spotted Eddie, flying behind everyone else but was applying what he had learned to create a positive first impression.
Or the version of the positive first impression that Eddie believed in. . . as just after the first whistle of the game, he showed another team's Chaser in an attempt to get to the Quaffle.
'Well, that's the image he wants,' smiled Quinn.
Quinn felt someone take a seat beside him. He looked away from the game to glance at the man briefly. For a second, his mind didn't pick up who he was looking at, and he turned back to the game, but then it hit, and he turned to look at the man properly.
The man seemed to notice Quinn's gaze and look at him.
"Good evening," said the man and then introduced himself. "Rufus Scrimgeour, Auror, and an Arrows fan. I think they're going to beat Puddlemore today."
Quinn shook Scrimgeour's hand as he replied, "Quinn West, Puddlemore fan. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scrimgeour. I disagree with you; I think Puddlemore will run Arrows down."
". . . Oh? Why is that?"
"Because my friend is playing in the game, and he's very talented."
"Your friend?"
"Eddie Carmichael."
"The young Chaser making his debut? You think a rookie will be good enough to meaningfully contribute to the game?"
"A rookie. . . maybe not. But Eddie is the perfect mixture of talent and hard work. He's special. Give him a couple years, and he would be outscoring every other team in the league and beyond. And today's going to mark the start of it."
"Hmm. . . even if your friend stays in the secondary league for a couple years, he will still need a couple more to come up to speed with the top talent, and if he is what you say he is, it will be a couple more years before he gets to the summit."
"Secondary league?" Quinn smirked. "There's no way Eddie will go down to a secondary league," he pointed at the field, "he is having the taste of what the top professional scene is, and after that taste, he will refuse to have anything inferior. This chance he created for himself, he will grab on to it and never let go."
Above the field, Eddie flew with the ball and threw it past the goalkeeper's fingertips into the goal hoops, marking Eddie's first professional goal.
"So, Mr. West," Scrimgeour continued the conversation, but on a different note. "How are you doing these days? Have you been fine after your abduction event?"
Quinn sipped on his iced tea through the straw before speaking, "Thank you for asking, Mr. Scrimgeour; I'm thankfully fine," there was no use hiding that he didn't know who Scrimgeour was, "I have to thank you for bringing my abductors to justice. Your department did a very swift job handling my case."
"We strive to handle every case with care and urgency. . . I heard your grandfather is busy these days. How is he doing these days?"
"And I heard that you guys are going to war with the Death Eaters. Why don't you tell me how's the going on?"
Scrimgeour slowly turned to Quinn and gave him a slow stern observing look. "How did you know that?"
"People at my status are privy to some privileges, Mr. Scrimgeour. But I have to say, I'm loving the direction all of you're going. It brings me great confidence in the ability of DMLE to protect us."
Scrimgeour dropped the look and sighed, "It's not complete yet."
"You mean the lethal sanctions?"
"Yes, the lethal sanctions."
The Minister of Magic and DMLE couldn't just sanction lethal actions against a specific group of people. Such measures had to go through Wizengamot for approval. The last time lethal sanctions were ordered, it was on Death Eaters during the previous wars, spearheaded by Barty Crouch Senior.
"Do you think you can replicate what Barty Crouch Senior achieved?" asked Quinn.
"Right now, I wish nothing more than that to happen."
"You will need support for that. The Dark Faction will oppose you. A portion of the Light Faction will oppose you. The Grey Faction may or may not support you. If you want this to happen in the current political landscape, you'll need a lot of support."
"Are you implying something?"
The crowd screamed in cheers, and the two Seekers chased after the snitch. Quinn and Scrimgeour watched the game for a bit before returning to the conversation.
"I might be. I can help you gain the support you need."
"I suppose you can."
"Yes, I can. I can give access to my grandfather, and something tells me that he will be interested in listening to what you have to say."
"Will George West really support our action?"
"That depends on you. If you can keep your point in front of him clearly and convincingly, there's no reason he won't support you. . . but don't expect anything other than political support. If you try overreach for stuff, he will shut you down, so be careful what you ask for."
"I will keep that in mind."
"I'm glad that you understand," said Quinn with his eyes on the game. "Things will turn much worse from here on out, won't it."
"It will. . . who knows, this might be the last Quidditch game we get to see in person."
Quinn sighed, "Eddie will be pissed if that happens."
". . . That's what you take from that?"
"That's what I take from it. Now, Mr. Scrimgeour, I would love to talk to you, but I would like to watch the game. It's the reason I came here. No small talk from me."
"I would also like that."
"Puddlemore is going to win."
"I bet Arrows are going to win."
"Ten galleons."
"Just ten?" asked the Head of DMLE with the very lucrative pay package. "I was thinking more like a hundred."
"It's not the money that makes the betting fun. Money will make a difference if the amount makes a difference for us. It's the bragging rights and the satisfaction of living that makes it fun. If you want to bet money, how about we bet a half a year of your salary— that'd be appropriate."
"Bragging rights and satisfaction it will be."
"And ten galleons."
It was Puddlemore who won at the end of the game by the capture of the snitch. . . and by the points scored by the Chasers, including Eddie, who put on impressive numbers for a rookie. After a week, it was announced that Eddie won't be going to the secondary league and would be placed as a reserve for the Puddlemore United to be brought off the bench in the later parts of the game.
Quinn won his ten galleons and the bragging rights of beating the Head of DMLE in a bet. Though Scrimgeour was the one who left with the most gained that day.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Quinn West - MC - One of the sweetest ten galleons I ever got.
Rufus Scrimgeour - Head of DMLE - Already preparing for the meeting.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - [Written on May 07, 2022] I'm sorry for the typos that have been happening in the past few chapters. It's just that I get sleepy after dinner, but I can't afford to sleep because I have to write— so I end up dozing off while writing, and that's when the typos happen.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
FictionOnlyReader
FictionOnlyReader Just like always,
Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.
Thx
Chapter 365: Wizengamot Shock
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Like many magical household buildings owned by old pureblood families, the Crouch House was situated in the countryside, away from the nearest non-magical villages: built on privately owned vast lands by those families, keeping them away from what they deemed unwanted.
Voldemort stared outside at the property's front yard from one of the windows, which had twin gardens on the sides of a paved footpath that stretched from the manor's doors and the estate's gate. When he had arrived at the estate, the gardens were lush with vibrant flowers and rich grass spread, well-maintained thanks to the house-elf whose name he couldn't bother to ask, but now, the same garden had wilted away after the caretaker's death.
The door behind him creaked open, but he didn't look away from the window. "Is everything ready, Augustus?" he asked.
"Yes, My Lord," said Augustus Rockwood. "The preparations are done; the teams are ready to move at your order."
Voldemort hummed. "Have you prepared well for today, Rockwood? Your role is going to be very important today. You might end up meeting old friends."
"Please be assured. My old friends won't be creating a problem today. Most of them don't know how to wield a wand in a duel. The ones who do know, I'm ready to handle them."
Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries, to be put crudely, were researchers who spent most of their time in labs, hunched over their research. While the Unspeakables were making substantial discoveries in magic, many of them weren't proficient in dueling. However, there was a section of Unspeakables that researched dueling arts, and those Unspeakables were one of the real dangers inside the Ministry. After all, Augustus Rockwood was one of the Unspeakables who studied the dueling domain focused on weaponizing magic.
"Did you know I was asked to join the Department of Mysteries when I was young?" said Voldemort. Rockwood wasn't surprised, given he knew how Unspeakables recruited, but he was highly intrigued by the image of the Dark Lord being asked to join the Unspeakables or even possibly working in the gallows of the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort continued, "I refused them that day. I wanted to travel and learn magic instead of being stuck in a cubicle doing mundane tasks so that my supposed superiors could focus on their research, or worse, waste their and, especially my time, doing nothing."
Rookwood knew what Voldemort was talking about. He had done his share of grunt work before being able to focus on his choice of research. And he couldn't even imagine Voldemort doing the same grunt work.
"When does the Wizengamot session start?" asked Voldemort.
"In about an hour, My Lord," replied Rockwood.
"The bill for the usage of lethal action against my Death Eaters," said Voldemort, quoting the topic of the Wizengamot discussion. "I still remember you telling how many problems it had caused our tropes the last time around. I should've killed Bartemius Senior before he caused those pesky problems. I made the mistake of not doing so last time. But this time. . . this time let us make them aware of what they are about to face."
"If I may speak something, My Lord."
Voldemort hummed, which Rockwood took as a signal to continue.
"If we proceed with this, then wouldn't that sway the vote in favor of the implementation of lethal action. . . that would create problems, especially with Robards and Scrimgeour leading the current DMLE. Even Bones has her origin in the DMLE; she would be more perceptible to suggestions against us."
"How do you think the vote would go if we don't proceed today?" asked Voldemort.
"According to what Rivers have gathered, the bill is going to pass today," Rockwood said. Rivers Lock, the resident Spymaster, had felt around the Ministry using his network of Novellus Accionites and had concluded that today was going to be passed. ". . . He also said there are rumors of George West endorsing the bill."
"Then you should realize that whatever we do today isn't going to make a difference. And if there isn't going to be any difference, why not make the best out of the situation," Voldemort turned to Rockwood and continued, "Gather everyone; I'll address them before we leave. If everyone else wants war, let us give them one."
.
- (Scene Break) -
.
"If everyone could take their seats, we can get started with this meeting," said Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
He roamed his eye over the circular room, looking at those who had inherited their family seats, those who had been elected, and those who had received them as part of their Ministerial designations. He looked at those people divided into the three major factions— Dark, Light, and Grey— and one minor faction of the Minister's circle.
Dumbledore's eyes stayed with the Minister's circle. It wasn't common in the Wizengamot and the British Isles political scene that the Ministers had their own faction. Almost every time, the Minister was backed by one or two major factions, representing part of the nation's populace. The last Minister, Cornelius Fudge, was first supported by the Light faction in his first term and the Dark Faction in his second. But Amelia Bones was an outlier in the way that she didn't belong to any of the factions— she had support from parts of both Light and Grey factions but didn't exclusively support either. Her true influence came from her work and tenure in the DMLE. She had been so competent and done such good work during a period when DMLE was having trouble finding applicants who passed the Auror and Hit Wizard standards, keeping the reputations of her department so clean and successful that her approval ratings had been off the roof with the populace even without the explicit support of any political factions.
"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared her throat, "members of Wizengamot, today we have gathered here to discuss a bill proposed by Minister Bones in conjunction with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I'm sure all the concerned individuals already have a copy of the draft and have had the time to go through them to gain an understanding of what it entails. Now, I would give the floor to Head of DMLE Rufus Scrimgeour to place the bill in front of the Wizengamot."
Amidst the buzzing chatter, footsteps echoed as Scrimgeour walked to the room's well. All eyes followed the man who looked poised; one look at the man, one could tell that this was what an Auror was supposed to be. Scrimgeour walked to the table in the center and placed some documents in the middle, and the man took his time to set up as if the other didn't exist.
"Members of Wizengamot," he started, "today we have gathered here to discuss a solution to the problem that ails our country and every person that lives within it," he turned to the Dark faction as he said the last part. "It's not a secret that the Dark Lord," he said, and the people straightened up, "and his Death Eaters have risen again. They have gotten back to their terrorizing ways of the war days. In the past few months, DMLE has apprehended many Death Eaters, who have been sentenced to Azkaban, but not a single time have the Death Eaters not tried to rescue their compatriots— going as far as to attack Auror guards escorting the prisoners. There have been many more incidents in which the DMLE suspects were caused by the Death Eaters. And, just recently, the Death Eaters directly attacked the Ministry itself by sending an explosive to the Ministry that everyone knows caused much damage. In that one incident, they not only threatened everyone's lives in the headquarters and so many important documents but also risked breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, which would've not only endangered the lives of wizardkind in our country but worldwide."
When the population of one country found out about the magical population, then it was just a matter of time before the other countries would find out about it. It would spread like a pandemic, and the lives of so many people would be risked without them anything. It would bring judgment upon the magicals of the British Isles, and in those times of turmoil, no one would be willing to help them.
"So, on behalf of the Minister's Office and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I propose that lethal action be allowed against the Death Eaters. Like the last war, I propose that the Unforgiveables be allowed to be used against the Death Eaters, and if in a situation of concern, Aurors and Hit Wizards be allowed to execute the Death Eaters."
There was a heaviness in the air. A lot of chatter rose up within the room, making people.
Dumbledore raised his wand to the air and shot harmless explosions, making people quiet up. "If anyone wants to question Department Head Scrimgeour, please raise your hand," he said.
It seemed that a lot of people had questions as hands were raised from all the questions.
There was a reason why Dumbledore had stuck to the Chief Warlock position for such a long time without letting anyone have the chance to replace him. Chief Warlock was responsible for facilitating any discussion that happened in Wizengamot, and it was completely up to Dumbledore who he chose to give a chance to speak and in what order. For a big part, he got to decide how the discussion could go.
Right now, if he allowed someone from the Dark Faction first, the tone of the conversation would turn to one of an offensive questioning, trying to undermine the bill with the aim of scrapping the entire thing. But at the same time, if he handed it to the Grey Faction, Dumbledore was sure they would engage in a conversation supporting the bill, as discord at this scale was terrible for business.
And if he was to give a chance to the Light Faction. . . . Dumbledore glanced towards where the Light Faction sat with complicated looks in his eyes. Ever since he had revealed the truth about Harry's situation, he had lost the trust of some influential members of the faction, and with it, a lot of people who didn't know the truth but were followers of said influential people. He wasn't sure what would happen if he gave a chance by the Light Faction.
As he contemplated who to give a chance, a sudden tremor went through the room. It was so violent that many people shifted off their seats, and entire rows of chairs moved by several inches. Even Dumbledore had to grab onto his chair to not fall off because of the violent shaking.
Dumbledore even heard someone, presumably, an Auror, shout, "Again?!"
Dumbledore's eyes went straight to the Dark Faction members, and he started to scour the people looking for people who were acting strange. He noticed people who were acting strangely calm in this current situation, especially when there had been a similar incident very recently.
He clutched his wand and let the magic flow as the Legilimency mind magic shot through like an arrow from a taut bow, piercing through the embarrassingly weak defense of the people who acted strangely. Dumbledore started to rife through their memories, and that's when he found the reason behind the sudden shock.
He immediately stood up in shock and at once rushed towards the door out of the Wizengamot room. Before he exited, he spoke in a commanding voice,
"With me."
And even those who were at odds with Dumbledore knew he was serious and not to doubt his orders.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
Quinn West - MC - Me not here. It's been happening a lot.
Albus Dumbledore - Chief Warlock - Likes to be in influential positions.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - We are starting soon.
.
-*-*-*-*-*-
.
If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
CREATORS' THOUGHTS
FictionOnlyReader
FictionOnlyReader
Just like always,
Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.
Thx
Weekly Power Status
200+ Power
Ranking 
30 Power
stone 
Paragraph comment