Baixar aplicativo
33.48% HP: A Magical Journey [Complete] / Chapter 147: Buzzing of An Annoying Bug

Capítulo 147: Buzzing of An Annoying Bug

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

"I know I'm productive and all, but they can't just foist all of this stuff on me. I'm a busy man for magic's sake," grumbled Quinn, making his way to the dungeons.

He had just exited charms class when McGonagall cornered him out of the classroom and handed him a task.

"It's my only free break. I'm bloody booked for the rest of the day," he said, taking a turn. He could finally see his destination.

However, when he had been within an earshot of the room, he heard a voice yelling out in a tone that was as unpleasant as nails scratching against a chalkboard.

"Antidotes! You should all have prepared your recipes by now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will choose someone that will try one..."

Quinn peeked inside from the classroom's door. Snape was looking over his class. His students looked visibly uncomfortable.

'Aha... So that's how everyone looks in Snape's class, huh,' thought Quinn, feeling the vibe oozing out of the room. Quinn never felt it while in class as he was busy brewing potions and doing his homework.

He stood there and enjoyed everyone looking super uncomfortable for a few more seconds before knocking on the dungeon door, shattering the painful silence.

He entered the classroom and made his way to Snape's desk.

"Yes, Mr. West?" said Snape curtly.

"Good afternoon, Professor. I'm supposed to take Mr. Potter upstairs," said Quinn, smiling, as he turned his face towards the class. Harry was looking at him, with his sister Ivy and Hermione sitting behind him.

He turned back to look up at Snape, who stared down at him. There was no joy on his face or any delight in his eyes. The man looked like he had just come out of Azkaban.

"Potter has another hour of potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "He will accompany you when this class is finished."

"I am aware of that, sir, but he is needed upstairs," replied Quinn, matching eyes with Potion master, "All the champions are being summoned up to take photographs for the press release. From what I have been made aware of, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Couch along with the Daily Prophet team, have already arrived, so I think it's of priority that Mr. Potter gets up there."

Harry, on his seat, looked both glad and uncomfortable. He was more than happy to exit the Potion class, but he wished Quinn wouldn't have told them details. He glanced to his right to look at Ron, who was sitting with Dean Thomas.

"Very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here. I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Actually, Mr. Potter, bring your things along," interjected Quinn, directly addressing Harry. "They want to see you in your school attire, book bag and everything."

"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter- take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Quinn ignored Snape's tone and words and moved back to the door. He saw Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door.

"Now that wasn't pleasant, was it, Harry," chuckled Quinn when they were out of earshot of the classroom. "His mood was worse than usual. Did something happen?"

"... I don't know," replied Harry, looking down at the floor as he walked. "That git is always in a bad mood... ugh, why does he have to be so nasty to everyone."

"Hmm... I have no idea," answered Quinn. No way Quinn was going to explain to him that Snape pinned after his mother.

Harry looked up from the ground and turned to glance at Quinn. Out of all the students he had seen interact with Snape, Quinn was the only one who looked comfortable doing so. Other than him, no one wanted to have a prolonged conversation with Snape.

His eyes caught the badge on Quinn's robe as it turned from Krum's name to his.

"You made those."

"Hmm?" Quinn glanced at Harry and then followed his eyes to the badge on his lapel. "That I did. You like them?"

"Yeah, I saw the A.I.D. mark on the back," said Harry, putting his hand into his pocket, feeling his own badge. He looked up and then asked what he wanted to know, "But Malfoy has been distributing these, why?"

"Mr. Malfoy was the one who came up with the idea," answered Quinn, "I suggested some changes and produced them. I offered to take on the distribution, but he wanted to do it on his own. I guess he is doing fine, given that almost all students have a badge."

"Did Malfoy really come up with this?"

Quinn chuckled in reply, "I won't lie, Harry. Mr. Malfoy had come in with different motivations, but he had this badge in hand when he left, so we can say that all's well that ends well."

"If you say so," said Harry heavily as they climbed up the stairs to the ground floor. "What do they want photos for again?"

"The information about the Triwizard Tournament is going to be published in the papers and magazines. You and the other champions are going to be interviewed and photographed for the articles."

"Great," said Harry dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Harry, you're already in the tournament. Lamenting your luck and feeling down about it isn't going to do you any good. You're already chosen as a champion, so I would personally suggest that you own it. I'm sure someone must've already told you about this, but you're now representing Hogwarts. To see one of our champions looking down and unenthusiastic all the damn time isn't something you want to show to outsiders... They will look down on you and take advantage of you. I'm assuming you don't want that. If I was in your place, I wouldn't want that."

"Do you? Would you want to be in my place?" asked Harry, staring at the guy who scored the highest in the entire school, who was undefeated in dueling, who was a Prefect, who owned his own unique thing inside Hogwarts and had saved him from getting kidnapped.

"Hmm," he thought about the question before answering, "If the circumstances were different, I probably would have entered my name. I don't care much about the rewards, but I would love to have the range of freedom that a champion gets during the year. Exemption from sitting in the classes is something beneficial to someone like me."

They reached their destination, so Quinn turned to Harry and gave him one last free piece of advice, "Move on, Harry. You might not like it, but you're the Boy-Who-Lived; you will be expected to act and perform a certain way. So, pull yourself together because you have a long year in front of you."

Harry heard what Quinn was talking about, and even though he couldn't wrap his head around it immediately, he nodded.

"Good, let's go in," said Quinn, opening the door and nudging the boy-champion into the room.

They entered a reasonably small classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed away to the room's back, leaving the room's half empty; three of the desks, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and were covered in velvet fabric. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks. Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a lady they had never seen before in Hogwarts, who was wearing magenta robes.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual. He wasn't talking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur were having a conversation. Fleur looked much happier than Quinn had seen her so far; she sometimes moved her head back to let her long silver hair catch the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, approaching him.

"Ah, here he is! The fourth champion! Come in, Harry, come in… there's nothing to worry about; it's just a wand weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will arrive here in a moment—"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously, but he seemed much better than before they entered.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then, there's going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's going to write a little article about the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that little, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her light-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman but still staring at Harry. "He is the youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is- if Harry has no objection?"

"Er-" said Harry.

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers grabbed Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly firm grip, and she was about to steer him out of the room… but stopped when she glanced upon the student beside Harry.

"Quinn? Quinn West?" she gasped. Her hand released Harry's arm, and like a hawk seeing her pray, she swapped near Quinn, staring at him with a starry-eyed look.

"Hmm, yes?" Quinn looked at the woman in front of him. "Ms. Skeeter, was it? What can I do for you."

Outside, Quinn was his usual calm self, but inside, he felt like publicly clicking his tongue and making a face. He held it inside, though.

'She has recognized me? Was I photographed somewhere? Or she just remembers my face,' thought Quinn.

The one who represented the West family outside was Lia, while George and Quinn remained out of the limelight. But there were times when he and George would go to official events, which were sometimes photographed. In those events, Quinn would try his best to not get photographed, but it seemed Rita knew his face enough to recognize at first glance.

"It's so rare to see a West. I must take this chance," she harped as if others weren't there at all. "I would like to interview you before we start."

Bagman and Harry looked at Rita. They couldn't believe the woman's thick skin. She had just asked Harry for a short interview, but now she had jumped ships and targeted Quinn.

Quinn's eyes flashed for a second as he thought about his answer. After a few seconds, he answered, "I don't mind."

"Marvelous!" exclaimed Rita. She grabbed Quinn's arm and pulled him out of the room, opening another that was nearby.

"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see... ah, yes, this is nice and cozy."

It was a broom cupboard. Quinn stared at her.

"Or we can go inside that classroom," said Quinn, pointing towards a door opposite to the broom cupboard.

He didn't wait for Rita to object or reply and walked to the door, put his hand on the knob, silently unlocked it, and entered the room. Inside, he pulled out a desk and set two chairs, one on each side. He sat down and looked at Rita, who stood near the door.

"Ms. Skeeter, please, do sit. I'm sure you will want to hurry with the tournament press release starting soon," said Quinn gesturing to Rita to sit down.

The journalist didn't waste a single moment and sat down in front of Quinn with a swift speed that would put the nimblest of people to shame. She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair so that they could see what they were doing.

"You won't mind, Quinn, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally..."

Rita Skeeter's smile widened. Quinn counted three gold teeth. She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

Quinn smiled in return, leaned forward, and gently snatched the long acid-green quill out of Rita's hand.

"Wha-!" said Rita, about to ask what Quinn was doing, but her words died in her mouth when Quinn snapped the quill in half.

"I will be straight with you, Ms. Skeeter," said Quinn raising his eyes to look at Quinn. The smile on his face had changed; now, the corners of his lips were barely raised to form a very faint smile. "You will not be writing anything about me. Not a single word about Quinn West or the Wests, in general, will be published in the Daily Prophet or any other newspaper that you write for under aliases."

Rita giggled and took out another Quick-Quotes Quill of her bag. She performed the same ritual as before she began speaking.

"Testing... My name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter."

Quinn looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:

「 Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has

punctured many inflated reputations — 」

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned toward Quinn and said, "So, Quinn… What do you have to say about the life of a child of the West family?"

Quinn's eyes remained on the quill, and even though he wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake, he could make out a new sentence:

「A charming face, arrogant expression of a spoiled upbringing, a look that stares down on people as if regarding them as mere insignificant fleas —」

Quinn ignored the quill and the writing. He reached into his pockets and took out a playing card with a black and gold back and set it down on the desk.

"Ms. Skeeter. I don't care what you write about anyone. It could be as fake as your golden teeth, and I wouldn't bat an eye. As long as it isn't about my family or me, I honestly don't care. However, if you write about me, you won't enjoy what comes afterward."

He gently flipped the card, and instead of it being a number or a face card, what emerged was an image of a water beetle. Seeing the picture of the water beetle on the card made Rita freeze. Her wide, closed mouth smile cramped immediately.

"You're at the top of your game. Probably one of the most celebrated names in the business," said Quinn tapping his finger near the card. "You, at some level, have become a household name. It would be an absolute shame if all that hard work—"

The card was turned over, and instead of the black and gold back, there was a squashed water beetle with red blood in the background.

"— was crushed in an instant, turned to dust, forgotten with time as you are isolated in a dark cell with some not-so-colorful jailers... You wouldn't want that, right?"

Rita had gone stark white and very still. She, with a slight tremble in her eyes, stared at Quinn with fear evident all over. Her quill had gone limp, noiseless, with the tip just hovering over the parchment.

"... what do you want?" she asked, her fingertips white from clutching her crocodile-skin bag. If her identity as an illegal Animagus was released to the ministry, she would be hunted by the Aurors quicker than she could write her own name.

"I don't like repeating myself, Ms. Skeeter," he said, his face expressionless. "This will be the last time, so listen carefully. I don't want to see any article related to me or anyone I am connected to. If you do that, your naughty little secret will remain hidden, and if we're lucky, you and I will never see each other again. Understood?"

Rita wordlessly nodded, and Quinn waved his hand over the card for it to change back to a standard playing card.

"Let's return, shall we? I don't want to miss the ceremony." Quinn stood up, pocketed the card, and walked towards the door, but before he exited, he turned and warned, "Ms. Skeeter, if I see you fluttering around, getting your career ruined will be the last thing you will have to worry about... so be careful if you do visit Hogwarts."

Not giving her another look, Quinn exited the room towards the previous room to witness the weighing of the wands ceremony.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West - MC - Asserting control, schooling the troll.

Harry Potter - Fourth Champion - Has been having a few stressful days.

Rita Skeeter - Journalist - Water beetles are quite annoying.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

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!


PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES
FictionOnlyReader FictionOnlyReader

Just like always,

Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.

Thx

Link To Discord

https://discord.gg/w5dJ82SfMr

Capítulo 148: How A West Closes A Deal

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Glad to have put Rita Skeeter in her place, Quinn walked back into the room. He glanced to his right to see the champions sitting in chairs near the door. Turning his eyes to the front, Quinn saw the five judges; Igor Karkaroff, Olympe Maxime, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Ludo Bagman, and Albus Dumbledore sitting on a velvet-covered table.

Glancing to his left, he noticed Rita Skeeter settle herself down in a corner. He saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment. Her professionalism fascinated Quinn. It was impressive how quickly Skeeter bounced back and was back to normal. Just as he promised, Quinn didn't stop her from writing as it wasn't about him or his close ones.

He silently walked to another wall and stood close to it, choosing not to lean against it.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, from his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Quinn looked around, and with mild surprise, saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Quinn had met Ollivander once before— he was the wandmaker from whom Quinn had bought his own wand all those years ago in Diagon Alley.

'His presence sure is feeble,' thought Quinn. He overlooked the wandmaker when he entered the room.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…" he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton, and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and scrutinized it.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood... containing... Dear me..."

"A lock of hair from the head of a Veela," provided Fleur. "One of my grandmothers."

'Part Veela. Bullshit,' thought Quinn.

There were no male Veelas in existence and as such a daughter born from a Veela was a Veela and not a part-Veela like in the original works. Like her mother and grandmother, Fleur Delacour was a full Veela and not some illogical quarter-Veela as had been written by the Duchess of Magic.

"Yes," said Ollivander, "yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."

Quinn turned his gaze to Fleur's silver hair, and the fact that her hair when she grew up could be used as a component of a magical focus fascinated him much.

'House-elf blood, Veela hair, Goblin heart, Dwarf bone,' listed Quinn in his mind, 'so many intelligent and humanoid races with a part of their body that can be used as a magical focus…'

He looked down at his hand and clenched it briefly before opening it to see the blood which had been pushed back return to his palm. Human blood had some magical properties but not enough to use as a magical focus. No part of the human body had enough magical characteristics; it made him wonder how his magic would have been if he was from a different race.

'If I was a Veela, could my hair be used as an internal focus? If I was from a race connected deeper to magic than a human... how would my magic have turned out,' he thought. He shook his head. He liked himself as a human, and there was no use in thinking about his race.

Ollivander ran his fingers along with the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand-tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you are next."

Fleur sat back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm. Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a magnificent male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition... Do you take care of it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

Harry, who was among the champions, looked down at his own wand. He could see finger marks all over it. He gathered a fistful of the robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he desisted.

Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation unless I'm mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and several small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," said Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves us... Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see Quinn. He recalled the words the Ravenclaw had said to him... The fourth champion squared his shoulders, lifted his chin straight before confidently walking past Krum to Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. I remember it well."

Harry could remember it, too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday...

. . .

Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Ollivander's shop with his parents and Ivy to buy a wand. Ollivander had taken his measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop until, at last, he had found the one that suited him— one that was made of holly, measured eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand.

"Curious," he had said, "curious," and not until Harry asked what was curious had Mr. Ollivander explained that the phoenix feather in Harry's wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Voldemort's.

His parents hadn't been happy to hear that particular piece of information. They had made Ollivander show Harry some more wands, but in the end, Harry had come out of the shop with the holly, phoenix feather wand.

. . .

Harry had been forbidden to share this piece of information with anybody. And he was okay with that order, as he was very fond of his wand, and as far as Harry was concerned, its relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't be helped. However, Harry really hoped that Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. Harry had a funny feeling that Rita Skeeter might just explode with excitement if he did.

Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may—"

"Now, now, Albus," interrupted Ollivander, "we have another student among us. How about I examine his wand first before you dismiss all of us?" Ollivander turned to his right, and with a smile in his pale eyes, he said, "Mr. West, please bring your wand to me. I will check it before I leave."

Everybody in the room looked at the lone non-champion student in the room. The eyes of Bartemius Crouch Senior and Ludo Bagman widened when they heard how Ollivander addressed the boy. They almost snapped their necks from the speed they turned their heads to look at the boy who was suddenly revealed to be from the West family.

Quinn acted as if he didn't notice the looks of the others. He shook his head towards the wandmaker with a smile. "As much as I would like my wand to get examined by you, Mr. Ollivander, unfortunately, I don't have my wand with me."

Dumbledore, who had gotten up from his chair, looked at Quinn in shock and surprise. "Mr. West... you don't have your wand with you?" The headmaster couldn't believe that Quinn —Quinn West in particular— didn't have his wand with him.

Quinn shifted his robes to reveal the left side of his trousers to show that the wand holster he usually magically merged with his clothes there was missing.

"Yes, Headmaster," chuckled Quinn at Dumbledore's surprise, "as strange it might seem, today, Professor McGonagall went to me just enough that I forgot my wand holster in my bookbag. I removed it for our potions' class... as, according to Professor Snape, it isn't a place for wand waving."

He turned to Ollivander and performed a short head-bow, "I will visit you in the summer, Mr. Ollivander; we can go over my wand then."

Quinn, of course, had thought of the possibility of his wand being asked for a friendly inspection. So he had purposely left his fake wand and holster in his book bag behind in his office.

"... I see," said Dumbledore slowly. "You may go back to your lessons now— or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as classes are about to end."

Feeling that he had diverted his wand situation well, Quinn took one step forward, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er— yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

Quinn stayed put and decided to stay still and wait for the event to end, but it turned out that was a mistake.

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually, she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl.

Krum, whom Quinn would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Quinn stepped outside of the room, stretching his slightly tired legs from standing still for too long. He wanted to go to his office and resume his work, but there was one thing he wanted to accomplish; the reason he had not left after delivering Harry for the press release.

He eyed the blue-eyed, blond man with rosy skin whose once athletic build had "gone to seed." It was akin to a sack of potatoes now.

"Mr. Bagman," he called out, stepping near the ex-Quidditch athlete.

Ludovic "Ludo" Bagman turned, and his eyes widened in surprise when he came across Quinn standing behind him. The now ministry employee knew what the child represented, so even though he was tired from the lengthy session, he greeted him with a smile.

"Quinn, was it? What can I do for you?"

"Walk with me," said Quinn and, without waiting for a reply, he started walking.

Ludo blinked a couple times but fell into step with Quinn, already under the influence of Quinn's momentum and rhythm.

"Mr. Bagman, if I'm correct, you'll be part of the judging panel for the tournament, correct?"

"Ah, yes. Along with the Headmasters and Mr. Crouch."

"Hmm, and you will also be hosting said tasks, correct?"

"Er— yes."

"Be honest with me, Mr. Bagman," asked Quinn, "are you truly interested in hosting the tasks?"

"Eh? I don't understand," replied Bagman.

"The Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports shouldn't be here for the Triwizard tournament," said Quinn. Bagman expected a "no offense" from him, but it didn't come. "The tournament might sound like it comes under the jurisdiction of your department, but it doesn't. That made me wonder, what were you actually doing here? So I did some light investigation and found that you volunteered for the judging committee."

He glanced at Bagman as he said, "I found that very peculiar."

Bagman, who saw the look in Quinn's eyes, gulped, "Why… do you think so?"

"I mean, wouldn't it make anyone wonder why a Head of a Department that hasn't had a single big initiative other than the World Cup- is suddenly becoming wildly interested in the Triwizard tournament?" Quinn spoke as if telling a story. "But then everything cleared up when I found that you are in debt— nay, crushing debt from the goblins. It became so apparent why you were here."

Bagman almost tripped on his own feet when he heard Quinn. His debt had been a well-kept secret. Despite the Goblins looking for him everywhere, he had been able to keep things under a hush.

"You definitely put in some effort in getting this job, didn't you? If Mr. Crouch had been the one in charge, I presume things wouldn't have been easy for you."

A fact that not many people knew about Ludo Bagman was that he had given information about the Ministry to Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War. He had given information to the Death Eater Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood, and after the Death Eaters fell, he had been put on trial for treason.

The one who spearheaded the trial was none other than the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Senior. He had tried hard to put Bagman in Azkaban, but Ludo was cleared of all charges to Crouch's extreme annoyance. This was partly due to him being a famous Quidditch player. One witch within the jury stood up and congratulated Bagman for his rather impressive play in the previous Quidditch match, with the others cheering him. Ludo was never accused of his allegiance with Death Eaters again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ludo, pulling a smile on his face, but couldn't hide the fact of how uncomfortable he was feeling right now.

"Of course, of course, I'm sure I'm just misinformed," said Quinn, nodding. "But the fact remains that you're in soul-crushing debt and you need a way to pay it back. To do so, you need money which you are going to get by illegally betting on the tournament and stacking the odds in your favour. You'll manipulate the outcome to the best of your… ability."

Quinn suddenly stopped and fixed his eyes on Ludo Bagman, causing the man to stare into the stone-grey orbs; the thought that he was talking to a kid had exited his head ever since the start of the conversation.

"Mr. Bagman, I'm sure you realize what my family represents. I, right here and now, within a few minutes can," he snapped his fingers for a galleon to appear between his thumb and index finger, "snap your debt out of existence like it was never there. It won't take me any effort to do so, and by the time you wake up tomorrow, you could have a letter from Gringotts reading that your debt has been cleared."

Bagman's heart was beating loudly in his chest. The debt had been weighing on his head and chest ever since the Goblins had cornered after the World Cup finals. They had stunned him and stripped him down until he was completely nude to get their money back. He had been so shocked to find himself naked and in between a Death Eater raid after he got up that he decided to solve the problem by joining the judging panel and helping the Hogwarts Champion win the tournament.

When he found that Harry Potter had been chosen as the fourth champion, he thought his luck couldn't be better. Despite his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived, the fourteen-year-old champion didn't inspire much confidence in the underground betting scene. So he decided that he would help Harry Potter win the tournament and pocket the huge returns from his bettings.

"I can solve your problems," said Quinn with a depthless smile, "all you have to do is to step inside after me."

He gracefully raised his hand and pointed it to his side.

Bagman's eyes followed Quinn's hand, and he saw a door. It was just like any other classroom doors in Hogwarts but with just one difference.

"What do I have to do?" asked Bagman.

Quinn smiled and opened the door, inviting Bagman and stepping inside after him.

The standard Hogwarts door was shut with an out-of-the-ordinary flat, black plaque hanging snug against the door pane. In golden letters, the plaque read:

「773H」

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West - MC - Really stepping up his game, isn't he?

Garrick Ollivander - Wandmaker - Thinks a lot about his work.

Ludovic Bagman - Under crushing debt - Stepped into the deal of a lifetime.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

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!


PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES
FictionOnlyReader FictionOnlyReader

Just like always,

Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.

Thx

Link To Discord

https://discord.gg/w5dJ82SfMr

Load failed, please RETRY

Status de energia semanal

Capítulos de desbloqueio em lote

Índice

Opções de exibição

Fundo

Fonte

Tamanho

Comentários do capítulo

Escreva uma avaliação Status de leitura: C147
Falha ao postar. Tente novamente
  • Qualidade de Escrita
  • Estabilidade das atualizações
  • Desenvolvimento de Histórias
  • Design de Personagens
  • Antecedentes do mundo

O escore total 0.0

Resenha postada com sucesso! Leia mais resenhas
Vote com Power Stone
Rank 200+ Ranking de Potência
Stone 61 Pedra de Poder
Denunciar conteúdo impróprio
Dica de erro

Denunciar abuso

Comentários do parágrafo

Login

tip Comentário de parágrafo

O comentário de parágrafo agora está disponível na Web! Passe o mouse sobre qualquer parágrafo e clique no ícone para adicionar seu comentário.

Além disso, você sempre pode desativá-lo/ativá-lo em Configurações.

Entendi