Free Web NovelVeratia Grindelwald, having glimpsed a fragment of the future, naturally knew what was to come. She was perfectly aware of old Barty's fate.
Veratia, devoid of moral qualms, cared little about how old Barty would meet his end. After all, they were strangers, and what's more, Barty harbored a subtle, barely concealed hostility toward her.
The most critical reason, however, was that old Barty stood in the way of Sirius Black's progress—a pivotal piece of Veratia's grand plan.
Those who blocked her path…
Others, however, were oblivious to all this. Their attention was wholly captured by Ludo Bagman's earlier announcement of a "major event" soon to unfold at Hogwarts.
Children are naturally curious, even the older ones of sixteen or seventeen, and the Weasley twins were no exception. Their gossip-hungry hearts were practically bursting.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred asked immediately. "What were they talking about?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley said with a smile.
"It's confidential," Percy declared solemnly. "It won't be revealed until the Ministry decides to make it public. Mr. Crouch is right to keep it under wraps."
"Oh, shut up, Weatherby," Fred said, rolling his eyes.
Percy took a deep breath, ready to scold Fred, only to find that his brother had already slipped away.
From a short distance, Fred turned back, joining George in making faces at Percy.
This infuriated Percy, but he was helpless against his younger brothers.
That evening, Veratia, as expected, stayed in the tent.
Following the principle of not spreading bad influences or setting a poor example, everyone was initially assigned their own tent.
Veratia shot Harry a suggestive glance, but his attention was entirely drawn to the commotion outside.
Around nine o'clock, Harry, bored in bed and about to turn in, was startled when Veratia quietly slipped into his tent.
"Miss me?" she asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.
But she quickly noticed Harry's steady breathing—he was already asleep.
"Harry? Harry?" She nudged him gently.
No response.
As the old saying goes, you can't wake someone pretending to sleep.
Veratia reached out and pinched Harry's nose.
"Hahaha…" Harry burst out laughing, sitting up. He'd been faking it, curious to see how she'd react.
"Hmph." Veratia narrowed her eyes, tugging at both of Harry's cheeks.
Harry flailed his arms, unable to break free, and in a counterattack, grabbed at Veratia's vulnerable spot.
Caught off guard, Veratia froze.
She hadn't expected Harry to be so bold, so rude, so… utterly shameless!
They locked in a stalemate until Harry gave a slight squeeze.
"Eek!" Veratia yelped, swatting away Harry's wandering hands.
"I—uh," Harry stammered, holding up his hands. "Would you believe me if I said I grabbed the wrong spot?"
His fingers still twitched in the air, as if savoring the moment.
"Pfft!" Veratia spat at him. "You think I'd believe that? You little rogue—you've been completely corrupted by that woman, Cassandra!"
"Corrupted him how, exactly?" Cassandra's voice cut in from nearby. Veratia, arms crossed, turned to see her standing there.
"Who else but you?" Veratia shot back warily. "Who else could it be?"
"Isn't this exactly what you wanted?" Cassandra said with a casual wave of her hand. "And let's get one thing straight, Potter's corruption is your doing, not mine. Got it?"
With that, she leaned down toward Harry.
"Looks like I've come at a bad time. I'll return when this Grindelwald woman leaves Britain. Hopefully, she won't teach you anything… unsavory."
With those words, Cassandra vanished from the tent.
Teach Harry something unsavory?
Veratia had been about to leave, but Cassandra's taunt made her reconsider.
She turned to Harry, her gaze glinting with mischief, like a predator eyeing its prey.
"What… what are you going to do?" Harry asked, swallowing hard.
"Heh." Veratia stepped closer, her demeanor positively villainous.
She yanked off Harry's blanket and said with a sly smile, "What am I going to do? Why, teach you a few things adults ought to know, Harry~"
The next morning, Harry emerged from the tent to a chorus of laughter.
The Weasley twins, in particular, were practically rolling on the ground with glee.
Harry's lips were swollen like sausages. If Hermione hadn't quickly handed him a mirror, he wouldn't have even noticed his predicament.
"Merlin's beard, did you kiss a beehive?" the twins teased, gasping for breath between laughs.
Harry, unbothered, joined in their laughter.
Thankfully, a salve was on hand to quickly reduce the swelling.
"That's your lesson," Veratia mouthed silently.
Harry's eyes lingered on her glossy lips, a spark of longing flickering within him.
"There's still some time before the World Cup starts," Fred said, lounging in a chair with his legs crossed. "Should we do something, or just sit around? I mean, as…"
He was cut off as George tugged at his sleeve.
"As proper spectators," George corrected, "we should scope out the grounds. Or, better yet, meet some of the players beforehand. What do you think?"
As he spoke, George shot Fred a pointed look where Mrs. Weasley couldn't see, clearly warning him: Are you out of your mind? Mum's right here, and you're about to blab about Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?
Luckily, Mrs. Weasley's attention was elsewhere, and George's quick intervention kept their secret safe.
"I'm coming with you!" Ron said, jumping up. "Let's go—I want Krum's autograph!"
"Let's all go," Harry added, standing. "I've got nothing else to do, and you lot might need me."
He winked at Fred and George, who grinned, catching his meaning instantly. They stood, ready to head out with him.
Halfway out, George suddenly seemed to remember something and dashed back.
As they walked, Fred slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and whispered, "What's up, Sausage Lips? Got something to share?"
"Just bored," Harry replied quietly. "Figured I'd tag along and find something to do. Let me guess—you're planning to sell those Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes that'd make your mum furious, right?"
"Nothing gets past you," Fred said with a cheeky grin. "Just don't tell Mum, alright? And definitely don't let Percy know. You know how he is…"
"Speaking of which…" Ron popped up behind Harry. "Fred, you wouldn't want Mum finding out you're peddling Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, would you?"
Fred gave a kingly smirk, pulling Ron into a headlock. "George!" he called to his brother, who was just emerging from the tent. "Look at this guy, trying to blackmail me! What should we do with him?"
"Do?" George replied with a wicked grin, pulling a fake wand from his pocket and waving it toward Ron's… sensitive areas. "How about we shove it in little Ronnie's eye? Oh, I mean the other one…"
"No!" Ron squirmed frantically, unable to escape his brothers' grip.
After some playful roughhousing, they beckoned the group to move on.
Only Ron, Harry, and the ever-lively Charlie joined them.
Bill had some personal matters to attend to and had gone off on his own.
As for Veratia, after breakfast, she returned to the Austrian Ministry's tent, "borrowing" Cassandra along the way.
Cassandra, though visibly reluctant, followed her.
They strolled through the misty campsite, weaving between long rows of tents.
Most tents looked ordinary, their owners clearly trying to blend in with Muggle designs. Some, however, went overboard, adding chimneys, bell pulls, or weather vanes, making them look absurdly out of place.
Others were unmistakably magical.
In the center of the camp stood a particularly ostentatious tent, draped in striped silk like a miniature palace, with live peacocks tethered at the entrance.
Further along, they spotted a tent shaped like a four-story building, complete with turrets.
Another had a front garden with a birdbath, sundial, and fountain.
Harry saw Draco emerge from one such tent, waving at him.
"Well, Harry?" Draco said, showing off to his group. "This is our tent. Check out that birdbath—it's for the peacocks. Did you know they're filthy? Their tail feathers alone could shed two pounds of dust. I'm not kidding—the water in that bath turns pitch black. It's disgusting…"
"And yet you still keep peacocks," Ron quipped. "Maybe deep down, you like that filthy feeling, eh, Malfoy?"
"Shut up, Weasley!"
The retort didn't come from Draco but from the Weasley twins, who said it in perfect unison.
Draco doubled over laughing, delighted that the twins had voiced his thoughts.
"So, what are you lot up to?" Draco asked curiously. "The copycat—Ron, Harry… and who's this? No need to guess, definitely a Weasley, but I haven't met you."
"This is my second-eldest brother, Charlie," Ron introduced. "Charlie, this is Draco Malfoy. He's… not too insufferable."
"Hey!" Draco protested, but Ron's opinion didn't budge.
After a brief chat, Narcissa called Draco back, apparently because he'd forgotten something.
"See you later," Draco said. "I'm meeting my dad to see some Quidditch players soon. Want to come?"
"Sure, but we've got to offload these two's trinkets first," Harry replied.
They agreed on a meeting time, and Draco disappeared into the tent.
"Let's go," Fred said.
They wandered through the tents, taking in the sights with keen interest.
It was morning, the sun still a warm orange, and the campers were starting to stir.
Families with young children were up first—kids don't sleep much, after all.
A toddler, about two years old, squatted outside a pyramid-shaped tent, gleefully poking a slug with a wand. The slug swelled to the size of a sausage. freёwebnoѵel.com
As they passed, the boy's mother rushed out of the tent.
"How many times have I told you, Kevin? Don't—touch—your—dad's—wand—oh!"
She stepped on the engorged slug, which burst with a loud pop.
Even as they walked away, her shouts echoed through the quiet air, mixed with the boy's wails: "You squashed my bug! You squashed my bug!"
"You two were just like that as kids," Charlie said to the snickering twins. "Absolute terrors, always playing dirty and acting innocent. Mum stopped believing you eventually."
"Ha!" the twins said in unison.
They continued on, occasionally spotting adult wizards emerging from tents to start breakfast.
Some sneakily glanced around before lighting fires with their wands. Others struck matches with skeptical looks, as if doubting they'd work.
"So, what's the plan?" Ron asked Fred and George. "How are you going to sell these wands? I mean, will anyone actually buy them?"
He held up one of the twins' fake wands, so realistic it was indistinguishable from the real thing.
"You don't know until you try," the twins said with matching grins.
But by noon, despite their efforts, no one had bought a single wand.
Reluctantly, they decided to split up to cover more ground, each taking a few samples.
Harry got five wands and decided to try his luck near the Austrian Ministry's tent.
He donned his cloak—selling fake wands wasn't exactly something to advertise openly.
"Wands—selling wands!" he called softly.
A few steps later, someone stopped him.
"Hey, wand seller?"
Harry turned to see a middle-aged wizard.
In an instant, Harry pegged him as a dark wizard.
"Your wands…" The wizard glanced around cautiously, ensuring no Aurors were nearby, then asked in a hushed, almost conspiratorial tone, like some shady West Coast dealer, "How much for your wands?"
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze
