Chapter 286. News and Apparition
That afternoon, Adrian Wesson returned home.
The Daily Prophet had been running stories about the Quidditch World Cup for days on end.
With Rita Skeeter stirring the pot, the reports grew ever more muddled:
"Shocking! Ministry Hides the Truth: Is There More Behind the Dark Mark?"
"Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman, Exposed for Financial Dealings with Dark Wizards!"
"On the Night of the Quidditch World Cup Final, a Ministry Official Was Caught in the Act with a Lover!"
The last piece even came with a photograph—two naked figures fleeing a burning tent. Of course, the key parts had been pixelated.
Adrian's mouth twitched at once. For Rita Skeeter to sniff out this sort of story amid such chaos—she really was a formidable operator.
Even more astonishing, every one of those reports was written by Rita alone.
It made him wonder if the Daily Prophet had no one else but her—a one-woman newsroom.
By contrast, the fact that Ireland had taken the Cup merited only a tiny column on the page.
And, just as he had expected, the Prophet never mentioned Crabbe by name; even the term "Death Eater" appeared only sparingly.
In the end, the culprits announced by the Ministry were merely two ordinary dark wizards—not Death Eaters at all.
As if the Dark Mark that night had been nothing more than a clumsy prank.
Obviously, the Ministry had smothered the news very effectively—so effectively that even Rita Skeeter couldn't dig up anything useful.
Adrian could only feel a bit helpless about it. He'd never expected much of the Ministry, but such a ham-fisted cover-up still exceeded his expectations.
Which raised the question:
Who started the riot, and what state was Lord Voldemort in now?
Adrian had no idea; all he could do was wait and see.
After the Quidditch World Cup, there was only a single week left before Hogwarts began.
Ever since that Killing Curse had skimmed past him, Harry felt something in himself had changed, though he couldn't say exactly what.
There was one thing he could probably predict, though: the days ahead would not be as peaceful as before…
Well, on second thought, his life had never truly been peaceful.
In any case, what he could foresee was that Lord Voldemort was on the road to a comeback. Not just him—everyone needed to be ready.
In a blink, the last week of the summer holidays slipped away.
On the fog-soaked, rainy morning of 1 September, all of Privet Drive lay under a grey curtain of drizzle.
Adrian Side-Along Apparated Harry and Hermione, who'd been staying with him, straight to King's Cross Station—on a day like this, he had no desire to be drenched like a drowned rat.
Thus, when they arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the platform was still empty, with only a few scattered figures about.
"On you get," Adrian said to the pair. "I have to get to Hogwarts by other means. Dumbledore says he has something to tell me."
"What is it?" Harry asked, curious.
"Who knows," Adrian shrugged. "The Headmaster does love his mysteries."
Harry and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express. As expected, there was hardly anyone inside; they casually chose a carriage near the back and sat down.
Hermione took out Apparition: Theory and Essentials and began reading in earnest.
"You've already started studying Apparition?" Harry was a bit surprised. "We're not old enough yet, are we?"
"I know, but it doesn't hurt to prepare," she murmured. "Like during the Quidditch World Cup… if we run into danger, Apparition might be the quickest way to get out."
Thinking of the chaos that night, Harry nodded in agreement.
"But whatever happens, you mustn't try this magic in private," he said seriously. "Leaving aside that underage Apparition is against the law and the Ministry will track you, more importantly, practising Apparition is very risky. Chances are you'll end up splinched. Imagine it—if only half of you Disapparated…"
"Seems you know quite a lot." Hermione nodded.
"In fact, I tried it once," Harry went on. "Right at the start of the summer. My teacher lent me his wand and I gave it a go."
"And?" Hermione asked, curious—Harry hadn't told her this.
Harry sighed. "It took my teacher ages to piece me back together."
"At least you're alive," Hermione said sympathetically.
Harry shrugged—this wasn't merely a matter of being alive or not. Just picture it: your upper body appearing somewhere else, and not far away stands your lower half…
It was a grisly scene.
At that moment, the compartment door was yanked open. Ron squeezed in, panting, his red hair plastered to his forehead by the rain.
"This rain is brutal," Ron grumbled as soon as he sat. "I was waving to you through the window just now—how did neither of you see me?"
He shook the water from his hair, spraying it everywhere.
Hermione edged away in distaste.
Meanwhile, the train started to move, the wheels clicking rhythmically against the rails.
"Oh, looks like I nearly missed it," Ron relaxed at the sight. "Hope George and Fred didn't get left behind."
No sooner had he spoken than the door slid open again and two identical red heads poked in.
"Our little Ronnie was worried about us~" George pretended to wipe away tears.
"How touching," said Fred, throwing an arm round Ron's shoulders and deliberately smearing rainwater on him.
Ron flushed scarlet. "Get off!"
The twins piled into the compartment, dripping from head to toe.
"Oh, right," Harry suddenly remembered something and asked the twins, "you two won a fair bit on that World Cup wager, didn't you?"
He clearly recalled the twins staking their entire savings with Ludo Bagman—thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts, and a fake wand worth five Galleons.
And they'd backed a high-odds outcome—Bulgaria to catch the Golden Snitch, but Ireland to win.
At Harry's words, the twins' faces fell at once.
"Don't bring it up!" Fred's smile vanished in an instant. "He's a swindler—Bagman never meant to pay!"
"Isn't Mr Bagman the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "How could he…?"
"We only found out later," George sighed. "He's an inveterate gambler. He's borrowed loads from the goblins, and right now he's got no time to worry about paying us back."
As he spoke, George pulled a crumpled bit of parchment from his pocket. "Look—he gave us an IOU."
Ron craned over to look. "There isn't even a date on it."
"That's the problem," Fred said helplessly, shaking his head.
Harry looked at the two of them with a stab of sympathy. They were unlikely to see that money again.
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