Chapter 277. Three Pieces of News
After a brief two-day stay at 12 Grimmauld Place, Adrian Wesson and his group returned to Privet Drive.
Sirius Black had more or less achieved his aim—his relationship with Harry had improved quite a bit; at least they no longer felt like strangers.
Harry had more or less accepted the fact that he had a godfather.
As soon as Wesson got back to his lodgings, he immediately handed Slytherin's locket to the Tree of Wisdom for purification.
As the shard of Lord Voldemort's soul was absorbed by the Tree of Wisdom, its growth had already passed the halfway mark. As for extracting the soul's power, that would still take some time.
18 August.
Early morning, breakfast time.
Wesson's owl brought two copies of the Daily Prophet.
One was Wesson's; the other was Hermione's.
"Oh, I forgot to cancel my subscription." Hermione looked a bit annoyed as she held both papers—they didn't need two copies of the same newspaper.
Holding a slice of toast thickly spread with marmalade, Wesson took one from Hermione and flipped it open.
Today's Daily Prophet seemed unusually hefty, with more pages than usual.
"Night-time Gathering in Knockturn Alley: Suspected Death Eater Remnants"
"Quidditch World Cup Ticket Forgery Case: Hundreds of Fans Duped"
"Hogwarts to Host the Triwizard Tournament..."
All right, every headline was eye-catching, all of them major stories. Wesson set down his toast at once and began to read carefully.
First was the night-time gathering in Knockturn Alley—it had been reported by a passing wizard and, according to the Ministry of Magic, was indeed true; the Ministry had even dispatched Aurors for intensive patrols.
Although the Ministry usually didn't meddle much in Diagon Alley's lawless neighbour, this concerned Death Eaters, and they could not ignore it.
Death Eaters holding a gathering at a time like this? Wesson narrowed his eyes. If the report was accurate, they were certainly preparing something—very likely related to Lord Voldemort.
Next was the Quidditch World Cup. It said the Department of Magical Games and Sports had urgently recalled a portion of the tickets, and Ludo Bagman had promised a thorough investigation into loopholes.
This sent Wesson hurrying to check the tickets he had prepared—three in all: Harry's, Hermione's, and his own.
Fortunately, there was nothing wrong with them.
To be honest, wizards were even more passionate about Quidditch than Wesson had imagined; Quidditch World Cup tickets were genuinely hard to come by.
Of course, this wasn't much of a problem for him—the power of Galleons was inexhaustible.
As for the Triwizard Tournament, to tell the truth, Wesson felt the news had come a bit late; there wasn't much time left before term began. Stranger still, as a professor he hadn't been notified in advance—clearly the decision to hold the tournament had been rather hasty.
"Triwizard Tournament?" Hermione beside him had evidently noticed the same item and looked at Wesson in puzzlement. "Professor Wesson, what is that?"
Harry leaned over, curious as well.
"A very ancient magical competition," Wesson explained succinctly. "Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons—each school selects one champion to compete, and they decide who is the most outstanding."
At that, the face of Cedric Diggory suddenly floated up in Harry's mind. If one were to name the most outstanding student at Hogwarts, it ought to be him.
But for some reason, Harry had a bad feeling about it.
Wesson went on, "In fact, it isn't a friendly competition. Many champions died during the tournament. Because the death toll was so high, it was suspended for nearly two centuries."
"Then why are they holding it again?" Hermione asked, baffled.
Wesson spread his hands to show he didn't understand either—but according to the report, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation Bartemius Crouch said it was all to promote co-operation within Europe's magical community.
Mm. A very standard Ministry answer—saying nothing while sounding like something.
Just then, a strange noise came from the sitting-room fireplace. "Someone's coming," Wesson reminded them.
The next second, a flash of green swept through the grate; the green flames flared, and a figure was flung out, landing on the carpet with a thud.
"Sorry about that, Fred… or George?" Wesson stepped forward. "I forgot to tell you this fireplace is broken. It can be a bit rough."
"I'm Fred."
Grinning, Fred pushed himself up from the floor, dust still clinging to his clothes—when another odd noise came from the fireplace.
Amid a chorus of yelps and a burst of green firelight, George shot out of the grate and crashed down hard on the just-steady Fred.
The two of them immediately rolled into a heap on the carpet.
"Mm, so this one is George," Wesson observed. "Your landing form is a shade inferior to your brother's."
"You're on my nose!"
"That's still better than your foot on my face…"
The twins struggled to their feet, their legs still tangled.
"Is there something you needed?" Wesson asked with a smile.
The twins stood up straight at once.
"It's like this, Professor," Fred began. "We're off to see the Quidditch World Cup in a few days. Dad asked us to see if you'd like to come along."
"Don't worry about tickets," George added. "Dad can always get spares at the Ministry."
"Oh, we're going," Wesson nodded. "As for tickets, we've already bought ours."
The twins glanced at each other.
"What a pity," Fred said with a cheeky grin. "We could've saved you a bit of money—those tickets aren't cheap."
"Too right," Wesson agreed. "You're not wrong there—they're not cheap."
At this point, the twins had no idea that what they meant by "not cheap" was not quite the same as what Wesson meant.
After delivering the message, the twins didn't leave at once; instead, they happily chatted with Harry and Hermione about something—apparently the Triwizard Tournament.
"I'm stepping out for a bit. Harry, keep an eye on the shop," Wesson called to Harry.
"Okay, sir," Harry replied.
Although no customer had ever walked into this shop.
Wesson appeared in Diagon Alley.
As lively as ever, Diagon Alley teemed with witches and wizards, bustling to and fro. Wesson spotted quite a few familiar faces—several Hogwarts students, probably shopping for the new term or for the Quidditch World Cup.
Wesson didn't linger on the street but headed straight for the entrance to Knockturn Alley.
As he went deeper, the passers-by thinned out, then vanished entirely.
The Dark wizards who usually prowled the area seemed to have hidden themselves away.
This only made Wesson all the more certain that the Daily Prophet's report was accurate.
He made a circuit of the deserted alley and deliberately checked Borgin and Burkes. As expected, the shop door was shut tight—clearly the proprietor had no wish to do business during such a sensitive time.
An hour later, Wesson returned to Diagon Alley, concluding his trip to Knockturn Alley—aside from two patrolling Aurors, he hadn't encountered a single person.
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