The final whistle echoed through the stadium, and the scoreboard's glaring 300-0 left the crowd in stunned silence.
A few cheers erupted from the Dongying supporters, but they quickly died down, overwhelmed by the shock of the result.
Hyprosai, being the Canadian team's home ground, was packed with 40,000 Canadian wizards—almost half the total audience.
The Dongying team's clean sweep left the Canadian wizards reeling. Frustration, disbelief, sadness, even fury swirled in the air. The silence of over 40,000 voices, caught between disbelief and despair, was deafening.
The rest of the crowd—non-Canadians and neutrals—were equally stunned.
No one had dared predict such a complete domination by the Dongying team. Not a single point for Canada. It defied all logic and expectation.
Hyprosai, once roaring with excitement, now lay mute in stunned disbelief.
In the VIP stands, Moriarty exchanged a glance with Maxi.
They had both anticipated a Dongying victory, but not such a devastating blow to the Canadian side.
"The magician and Tsukamura Kogoro must have used some form of magic," Maxi hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the scoreboard. "There's no other explanation for Canada being shut out entirely."
"Agreed," Moriarty nodded coolly. "It's clear they didn't win by skill alone."
Maxi's anger burned visibly. "They dared use magic in a Quidditch World Cup semi-final. That's sacrilege!"
A die-hard Quidditch enthusiast, Maxi felt personally betrayed.
"Those cheats…" he growled, watching the Dongying players descend slowly on their brooms. "I'm filing a formal complaint! We lost disgracefully, and this won't sit well with the Ministry. My complaint will have weight!"
"Be realistic," Moriarty said with a slight sneer. He stood and began descending the stairs with the other English players, nodding at Maxi to follow. "There's only one game left—the final. Do you really think the officials will investigate the Dongying team now?"
"If they do," he continued, "the final would be postponed, and the Canadian Ministry would lose a fortune. No one will risk that."
"Even if they used unknown magic, there's no point in exposing them now. That should've been done during the match."
"Ah…" Maxi sighed heavily, the fire dimming in his eyes. "I underestimated the politics."
Moriarty gave a small shake of the head to show there were no hard feelings.
They left the stands and walked toward the main practice track. The atmosphere had changed—players no longer trained here as often, with the finals looming. Instead, families and fans were playing casual Quidditch games.
High above, laughter and shouts echoed as young witches and wizards swooped and dove for fun.
"Sir," Maxi asked suddenly, "do you love Quidditch?"
"Me?" Moriarty's voice drifted, distant and unreadable. "There are very few things I love."
"I see," Maxi smiled brightly, undeterred. "But I think you do love Quidditch, sir. If we didn't, we'd never have crossed paths here."
Moriarty glanced skyward, watching two young wizards perform barrel rolls on their brooms. Their gleeful screams pierced the calm like fireworks.
"You make a good point, Maxi," he admitted with a sigh. "Quidditch was never meant to be a tool for revenge. The Dongying team has lost its way."
"I knew it!" Maxi beamed. "You are a true Quidditch man, sir! That's exactly why I want to make a request—let me follow you."
"Why?"
"Because wherever you go, I believe you'll reach the summit," Maxi said with conviction, standing tall.
Moriarty studied him for a long moment. "Alright. Return with me to Slytherin Castle tomorrow. Hogwarts is on break, and I have matters to handle at home."
Maxi nodded eagerly, honored by the acceptance. Their conversation drifted from American Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, from the Blanche family to Jericho.
"My younger brother, he—"
A sudden scream cut through the air. "Aaaah!"
Everyone turned instinctively toward the sound.
A little girl had lost control mid-air and was plummeting from her broom.
A unified thought flashed through the crowd—Save her!
Before anyone else could react, Moriarty flicked his wand and cast a perfectly timed Arresto Momentum, slowing the girl and her broom's fall.
She landed safely and immediately burst into tears, curled on the grass. Moriarty noted her striking white hair and felt a shadow stir in his memory.
"Gabrielle!"
A voice rang out from the crowd—urgent, panicked.
Moriarty's brow furrowed. He recognized the voice—it was Fleur.
The girl on the ground was Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's younger sister.
Sure enough, Fleur pushed her way through the crowd. Gabrielle leapt into her arms.
"Sister!" she sobbed. "Sister!"
"Gabrielle…" Fleur murmured, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry… It's okay. You're safe now."
She kissed Gabrielle's head repeatedly, trembling with relief. Holding her close, she turned and disappeared into the crowd without sparing Moriarty a glance.
"Eh?" Maxi blinked. "You saved her, and she didn't even say thank you?"
"Shh," Roman whispered quickly. "That's Mr.'s family matter."
Maxi's jaw dropped. "Family?"
His eyes followed Fleur's figure, deep in thought. He opened his mouth to ask Roman for clarification, but Moriarty cut him off with a glare. Roman simply smiled and slipped into the group.
Moriarty summoned the fallen broom with a flick of his wrist and passed it to Roman.
"Return it to them."
"Yes, Captain." Roman jogged off.
He caught up with Fleur quickly. Moriarty watched from a distance as Roman handed her the broom and said something with a grin.
Fleur snatched it away angrily, turned on her heel, and walked in a different direction, showing only her proud back.
"Children," Moriarty said with a chuckle, signaling for his teammates to head back.
The next morning, Moriarty returned to England with the national team and Maxi via Floo Powder. They traveled from Hyprosai to the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the British Ministry of Magic.
Minister Fudge welcomed them personally in his office.
"Our hero returns!" he declared with exaggerated cheer, hugging the players one by one.
When he reached Maxi, he hesitated briefly, then offered a handshake. "Welcome to England, Mr. Blanche. A pleasure."
Maxi shrugged. "I'm not exactly your hero, am I?"
"Oh, but you could be," Fudge said smoothly. "If you ever decide to settle in England, the wizarding community would gladly embrace you."
He looked between Maxi and Roman. "Two top-class Seekers on one team. With a rotation between you, England would be unstoppable."
Roman scowled. "Mr. Fudge, are you suggesting I be replaced?"
The team burst into laughter.
"No, no, of course not!" Fudge raised his hands in defense. "You're our star, Mr. Roman. I merely want you to get the rest you deserve. Mr. Blanche could be your backup."
"I'm not interested," Maxi replied nonchalantly. "I'd rather face off against him in the next World Cup."
"Ah, yes. We're all admirers of Mr. Moriarty," Fudge chuckled, then turned with a reverent tone. "Sir, are you heading to Slytherin Castle directly, or stopping at Hogwarts first?"
He rubbed his hands eagerly. "Unfortunately, we can't send you directly to your castle—it's the most secure place in Britain now. No Portkey or Floo network reaches it."
"But I can get you to Dumbledore's office instantly. In fact, I replaced the Floo Powder just for you."
Maxi raised a brow at Roman as if to say, "Who is this guy? He's practically groveling."
Roman gave a helpless shrug.
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