— — — — — —
In yesterday's sixth-year match, Fleur crushed the competition and claimed the final spot in the championship.
It was only then that everyone realized just how terrifyingly strong the breathtaking girl from Beauxbatons really was.
Against the other contestants, Fleur didn't even have to move her feet. The only thing that made her cautious was Krum's strange black mist and Dark Magic. And to be safe, she backed off a little, then casually set the entire field on fire.
Luckily, Grindelwald fished him out of the sea of flames just in time. After all, the sheer power of that fire magic was impossible to ignore.
Even now, blackened scorch marks streaked the arena. Thankfully, Quidditch didn't depend on the grass, so it didn't affect today's game.
"..."
Krum's face, however, was just as dark as it had been yesterday.
Before yesterday's match, he'd sworn up and down to Grindelwald that he would take the championship, prove himself, and defend Durmstrang's honor. And now?
He hadn't even made it to the finals and had nearly been burned alive by that woman.
Grindelwald hadn't said a word, but that cold, indifferent look—the kind you give a piece of trash with no remaining value—was burned into Krum's memory.
They were enemies, sure, but being looked down on by his enemy hurt even more.
Today's match was his last chance to prove himself. No matter what, he had to help Durmstrang win one back from Hogwarts. He was determined to win this Quidditch game.
...
The referee for this match wasn't Madam Hooch, but Ludo Bagman, invited over from the Ministry by Crouch.
Normally, Bagman wouldn't bother with a bunch of schoolkids roughhousing in the air. But when he heard that the star player Krum would be competing—and that the match would be broadcast live across more than a dozen countries—he agreed on the spot.
Tweet!
With the shrill blast of Bagman's whistle, the match began. Hogwarts seized the Quaffle first and launched the opening attack.
"He's surprisingly nimble for a fat guy," someone muttered.
"Ohhhhh! He is Ludovic Bagman, the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."
"The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them, y'know. And he even played with the English National Quidditch team."
"Wow~"
...
Bagman darted smoothly between players on both teams, never once interfering with play, drawing plenty of admiration from the younger witches and wizards.
Amid the thunderous cheers, Roger Davies tricked the keeper and sent the Quaffle cleanly through the far-left hoop.
Durmstrang's players didn't react at all. They advanced steadily, and Wood's worries quickly proved justified.
The Weasley twins worked in perfect sync as Beaters. But Durmstrang's Beaters, though, embodied one word: brutal.
When a bat collided with a Bludger, both bent and twisted from the impact. The Bludger hurtled toward Adrian Pucey with terrifying force. He pressed himself flat against his broom just in time, but the screaming wind left him too shaken to straighten up for several seconds.
A collective gasp rose from the stands.
From there, Durmstrang leaned hard into their physical advantage, constantly looking for body checks.
And so the score gap widened fast.
Harry saw it happening and felt his anxiety spike, but Krum had him completely suppressed. He buzzed around the pitch like a headless fly.
The psychological pressure Krum put on him was overwhelming. The man was nothing but feints, darting and diving all over the field.
---
Inside the castle, in the headmaster's office, Tom watched the match through a Lume-Lens alongside Dumbledore and Grindelwald, nodding occasionally.
He wasn't actually paying attention to the game. What satisfied him was the broadcast quality: crisp, no lag, adjustable angles, smart tracking.
"Professor, I'm planning to livestream the finals next weekend too. You don't mind, right?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "There's no need to ask me about such trivial matters."
What Dumbledore meant: even if I did mind, you wouldn't listen.
"Riddle, I want two hundred Lume-Lens," Grindelwald suddenly said. "A lot of people enjoy my speeches and want to hear my views on the current state of the wizarding world. I plan to place a few in every major wizard gathering spot. It'll save everyone from having to travel all the way to Berlin or Munich."
Dumbledore felt a headache coming on. He really wanted to urge Grindelwald to show some restraint, but it was obvious this was yet another man who didn't take advice.
"Cash first, goods later," Tom replied without looking back, adjusting the viewing angle. "Fastest I can manage is summer. I'm taking over the British market first, then I'll think about expanding."
"Professor," Tom added casually, "who owns Wizard's Voice and the Daily Prophet? Introduce me sometime, will you?"
That, after all, was the real reason he'd come to see Dumbledore today.
The wizarding world did have magical radios. They were one of the few electronic devices allowed to be magically modified, and almost every wizarding household owned one. The range of programs was surprisingly broad, from straight news broadcasts to gossip shows and even beauty tips for witches.
In the original timeline, the Potterwatch station founded by Lee Jordan had become the only reliable source of real information.
"In that area," Dumbledore said, finally looking away from the screen, "Professor Flitwick will bring you some pleasant surprises."
There was a gentle, instructive tone to his voice. "Ravenclaw graduates hold key positions in many fields, Tom. Innovation is important, but I hope you'll also take their feelings into account."
"For most people, they don't want much. A stable job and a stable life matter more than anything. Even if your alchemy can solve many problems, I still hope you'll be mindful of how they feel."
"I understand," Tom replied with a nod. "Don't worry. I'm not the type to hoard everything for myself, and I'm definitely not some bloodsucking capitalist."
The arrival of the Lume-Lens was bound to hit the traditional wireless industry hard. A lot of people made their living off that system. If Tom filled every position with another batch of 'Catherines,' massive layoffs were inevitable.
That was why Dumbledore had warned him, to leave those people a way out.
And sharing a portion of the profits so most people could live and work in peace suited Tom just fine.
After all, if no one had money, how was he supposed to keep earning it back through an endless stream of new products?
A sudden groan rose from the Lume-Lens. Tom looked up to see Krum grinning as he held his right hand high, the Golden Snitch fluttering wildly in his grasp like a captured weapon. Nearby, Harry slumped in defeat. The contrast couldn't have been clearer.
It was obvious. Durmstrang had won.
Tom fell into thought. "Looks like I really should add a recording function…"
---
That evening, Tom showed up at Professor Flitwick's office carrying two ancient tomes.
The diminutive professor adored books, especially pre-medieval spell texts. Tom's gift hit the mark perfectly, and after hearing his request, Flitwick happily handed over the contact information for several students.
"Mr. Riddle, your ideas never seem to run dry," Flitwick said with a smile. "I imagine it won't be long before my office is full of all kinds of strange and wonderful live broadcasts."
Tom corrected him. "They're not my ideas. They're Muggle ideas. It's called television. Sigh~ It's already in most homes, Professor. They have live broadcasts and all sorts of bizarre programs."
Unfortunately, Hogwarts rejected all electronic devices. Otherwise, he would have dragged a couple of TVs into the Slytherin common room ages ago.
Flitwick sighed after listening. "No magic, yet their world sounds more exciting. Trains, wireless radio, even many desserts were originally inspired by Muggles."
Tom agreed completely. If you stripped away magic, wizards compared to Muggles looked like primitives. That went double for the pure-blood aristocrats hoarding massive resources while having no idea how to actually enjoy life, spending every day at endless banquets.
That was also why he'd decided to bring television to the wizarding world first. He wanted better entertainment, and a future that wouldn't be so painfully dull.
Tom genuinely looked forward to the day when wizarding films, movies, and anime became a thing.
...
After leaving the office, Tom passed plenty of lifeless students. Today's match had been a crushing defeat. Hogwarts had already fallen far behind before Krum caught the Snitch, and every player was covered in bruises by the end.
Right now, the only ones in high spirits in the castle, aside from the Durmstrang students, were Draco Malfoy and his little circle.
Suddenly, a conversation drifted into Tom's ears.
"Did you hear? That Slytherin Malfoy went to the Gryffindor common room entrance to mock Potter. He and his two big idiots got beaten black and blue."
"I really don't get him. Did he think Potter and the rest were in a bad enough mood already and wanted to offer himself up as a stress outlet?"
Tom fell silent.
He honestly couldn't tell whether Draco was genuinely that stupid, or if he just lost all brain function whenever Harry was involved.
Or maybe, just like those students guessed, he'd done it to cheer Harry up?
A chill ran down Tom's spine. Draco's sensibilities were truly terrifying. He felt so disgusted he didn't even want to go back to Slytherin common room.
Might as well go dig some graves in Azkaban instead.
Once the thought crossed his mind, Tom acted immediately. He sent Fleur a message telling her not to wait up for him tonight, nudged Grindelwald to go out and make an appearance in front of Dumbledore so suspicion wouldn't land on his own head, then quietly slipped out of the castle and vanished into the night.
.
.
.