"I swear this thing looks cooler than the Marauder's Map. When did you even draw it?" Sirius asked.
"It draws itself. Doesn't need me to do anything." Kasen's casual reply left both Lupin and Sirius in stunned silence.
But the two quickly let go of that odd sense of defeat. After all, losing to Kasen in the field of alchemy wasn't really a problem—easy enough to accept.
They all gathered around the map, each armed with a thick pencil, scribbling up and down, left and right, until the once-clean map was covered in messy markings.
At last, they put their pencils down, and Kasen pulled out a small flask to wet his throat.
Of course, for wizards who had mastered Apparition, knowing exact locations didn't matter that much—after all, there weren't any large-scale Anti-Apparition Jinxes…
He suddenly stopped mid-thought. Who said there weren't any?
Didn't he have one sitting right there in his office?
Sure, it couldn't cover the entire camp, but when the time came, he could just charge up an Ender Pearl and stand before those troublemaking Death Eaters. He could guarantee it—three seconds, seventy percent of them dead.
Just then, as the group was still huddled inside the little tent studying, Mr. Weasley's voice called from outside: "Hey, you three, come on out—we're heading to the stadium!"
They quickly got up and went outside. Harry and the other young wizards seemed to have been rounded up as well, their arms weighed down with big and small bags, loaded with all sorts of things.
"All here? Then let's set off." Mr. Weasley waved the thick stack of first-class tickets in his hand and led the way into the small grove.
After walking for a while—not too long, not too short—they finally emerged into the sunlight again, and there before them stood a massive stadium.
Mr. Weasley and Sirius handed over the tickets to the ticket inspector, while Kasen and the others stood idly by until the process was done.
Once the checking was finished, they all headed toward the box seats.
Inside the box, everyone found their places. Kasen curled up on a sofa, pulled out a makeshift eye mask he had stitched together from wool, and decided to enjoy a good nap to the background noise of Quidditch.
Unfortunately, before he could even hear the long-awaited backdrop of Quidditch cheers, a familiar, round-bellied-sounding voice reached his ears.
Puzzled, he lifted his eye mask and looked toward the source of the sound.
At the same time, Cornelius Fudge noticed him.
Kasen felt a wave of awkwardness, while Fudge, on instinct, shivered.
Very quickly, though, one pulled the mask back on, and the other hurriedly turned his head away. And when Fudge turned his head back again, he spotted Percy standing stiffly nearby—clearly wanting to speak to him, but unable to find the chance.
"Oh… I just noticed you, Bill! You graduated with good marks, otherwise you wouldn't be my assistant now." Fudge patted Percy's shoulder as he spoke.
"Er…" Percy's awkwardness lasted only a moment before he quickly recovered, adjusting himself into the proper posture. He bent his back at just the right angle, clasped Fudge's hand with both of his own, and said: "Good day, Minister. I'm Percy Weasley."
"Pfft.. cough.. cough.."
The Weasley twins, already forced down onto the sofa by Mrs. Weasley's iron grip, couldn't help puffing out their cheeks after hearing that ridiculous exchange. If their mother hadn't still been watching them like a hawk, they probably would've burst out laughing on the spot.
On the other side, Ron was also doing his best to shrink his presence. Earlier, when Fudge had asked him which family he belonged to, Ron had given a slick, high-EQ answer—and definitely hadn't told the truth. (Remember Ron's lie from back then?)
At the time, he'd congratulated himself for his quick wit.
But after all his careful scheming, fate still had him bump into the man today of all days.
"Uh… Hermione, Neville, scoot a little closer to me." Ron used a subtle bit of magic to slide their sofa nearer. Harry, curious, was just about to walk over and ask what was going on when he saw Ron's head shaking wildly behind Hermione's back—like an electric toothbrush on overdrive—while his eyes were frantically signaling him.
Perplexed, Harry followed the direction of Ron's frantic glances and saw Fudge striding toward him, all smiles. Then came the barrage of ordinary parent-like questions, one after another.
The only flaw was that the hand Fudge clapped on his shoulder was completely devoid of warmth.
It was only then that Harry realized why Ron had been shaking his head so desperately.
He glanced past Fudge at Percy, who stood tall and stiff behind him like a knightly statue. Harry couldn't help wondering: with a younger brother like Ron "assisting" him like this, just how interesting Percy's future career in the Ministry of Magic was going to be.
Meanwhile, Kasen, still wearing his eye mask and unable to drift into sleep, was jolted again by a fresh commotion. With a look like he wanted to die, he lifted one edge of the mask, pirate-style, so only one eye showed.
And then he spotted three familiar figures.
Well—truthfully, only one was really familiar; the other two were more like acquaintances.
The Malfoy family—Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa.
Sirius pressed his lips together. Today was the first time he had seen Narcissa, his sister, since leaving Azkaban.
Unfortunately, in this matter he was nothing like a Gryffindor. He just sat stiffly on the sofa, his neck rigid, head locked in place, staring at Narcissa.
Narcissa, however, had none of Sirius's inner turmoil.
She still held her head high, her eyes glinting faintly as she walked toward him. Then she noticed Kasen sitting beside Sirius, pirate-style, with only one eye peeking out from under his mask.
So Kasen lifted his hat from his head as a gesture of respect reserved for allies… after all, though his brain wasn't asleep yet, his body just about was, and managing to lift his hat at all was already giving plenty of face.
Sirius, meanwhile, let out a quiet sigh of relief. Clearly, he thought Narcissa being here had nothing to do with him. And if that was the case, then facing a sister with whom he shared no affection—only blood—was something he could handle.
The very next moment, however, Narcissa turned to Sirius and said, "Siri, you've suffered a lot."
Sirius felt a stab of strangeness. Words this sentimental should never have come from his pure-blood supremacist sister. Honestly, it would've made more sense if Kreacher had said it to him—but Narcissa?
"I'm glad to see you reborn." Lucius, having just finished exchanging pleasantries with Fudge, came over with Draco. He first nodded to Kasen, who was watching with one eye like a spectator, then turned to Sirius and said this simple line.
And that, at least, Sirius could accept. Coming from a pure-blood supremacist, any hint of emotion in the words would have felt wrong.
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