"Mm…"
Strictly speaking, Sirius really didn't want to greet them. He disliked the Malfoy family too much and felt no affection for his sister.
But things couldn't always be taken so rigidly. For example, the Malfoys—though they hadn't declared it openly—had quietly shifted their allegiance to Dumbledore. Which meant that, at present, the Malfoy family and he could be considered… allies.
With that relationship in mind, even if he didn't want to greet them, he had to.
Sirius pursed his lips awkwardly and gave a small nod.
Lucius, seeing Sirius silent, didn't embarrass himself further. He simply led his family to their seats.
Kasen, meanwhile, extinguished his gossip-loving spirit, smoothed his eye mask back down, and resumed his attempt at self-imposed hibernation.
Soon, another familiar sound drifted over—Percy loudly showering praises on an official named Barty Crouch, even though Crouch himself didn't seem to be present at all…
Kasen frowned in confusion.
Strictly speaking, Barty Crouch was supposed to be one of Fudge's political rivals. True, the rivalry hadn't yet reached a deadly serious stage, but whether it was in the competition for Minister or other issues—even Sirius's overturned conviction—those were all friction points between the two men.
So why was Percy, as Fudge's assistant, loudly praising Barty Crouch at this moment? Didn't he know the relationship between those two?
Or was there no senior in the Ministry to remind him?
Nobody knew…
What Kasen did know was that the mascots' opening performance for the two countries was extremely… sexy—ehm—enthusiastic.
The younger wizards in the box—Harry, Neville, Ron, and Draco—were nearly ready to dive headfirst over the railing.
Draco had his father's stern instructions drilled into him, but the other three weren't so lucky. Hermione was scolding them nonstop: "Can't you show a little dignity? Be more like Professor Kasen… Professor Kasen?" Halfway through, she turned toward Kasen's sofa.
But the sofa where Kasen should have been, sleeping with his eye mask on, was empty. Instead, Hermione spotted him draped over the railing, backside sticking up, his entire upper body leaning precariously forward as he ogled the departing Veela.
Lupin and Sirius were no better—both of them had their rears in the air as they leaned over in the same position.
Strictly speaking… men like Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Malfoy, and even Fudge couldn't act so freely. They were all married, after all, and couldn't carry on like Kasen and his fellow bachelors, boldly galloping off on their own—recklessly gawking at Veela without restraint.
Well, perhaps not all. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom were probably too decent for such things, and Malfoy, suspected of being thoroughly henpecked, likely wouldn't dare either.
But Fudge, as Minister of Magic, high in office and full of authority… who knew what colorful games he played behind closed doors?
Kasen snorted at the thought, shaking his head as he let out a few dismissive hums before flopping back onto the sofa to curl up again.
After all, everyone had an eye for beauty. Appreciating the world's loveliness could only help world peace.
But the next performance… Irish Leprechauns… was better slept through.
After all, he needed plenty of energy at night to deal with all sorts of unexpected situations.
Yes… that's exactly it… right!
As the noise in the stadium grew louder and louder, Kasen found that this "alternative background sound" had nothing to do with sleep at all. Unable to figure out how one was even supposed to watch a Quidditch match, he couldn't sit still anymore. He stood up, left the box, and went off to see if there were any snack stalls—he could play the role of gourmet and help "sample" a few things.
All in all, the stadium had no shortage of vendors. One after another, they were wedged between rows of seats, stuffing fistfuls of Galleons into their pockets.
Kasen spotted a sausage stand and walked over, spending a single Galleon on seven sausages. It wasn't that he planned to share them with his companions—he fully intended to eat all seven himself.
Leaning against a railing, he munched on the sausages while staring up at what looked to him like ordinary flies fighting in the sky, utterly confused. Compared to that, even the background chatter of the surrounding fans was more entertaining than the match.
For example, right behind him, the sausage vendor had a small wizard—eight or nine years old—strapped to his back.
The boy's clear, bright eyes followed the tiny black dots flitting across the sky one after another.
But the seating here wasn't exactly great.
Tilting his head back until his neck ached, the child could only see half the match. The other half was blocked by cement structures, the giant magical screen in the center of the sky… and, of course, the backs of people's heads.
Once again, as his favorite player flew with the ball right behind the big screen, the little wizard let out a long, miserable sigh.
"Mmm~"
Kasen chuckled as he looked at the little wizard. "Can't see clearly?"
The boy pouted and nodded.
"There's a box up there. If your father agrees, you can watch from there—there's still an empty seat." Kasen said.
"Really?" The little wizard's eyes lit up, his pout vanishing as he clung to his father like an octopus, starting an intense "negotiation."
The negotiation quickly ended in the boy's favor. He hopped down from his father's back and looked expectantly at Kasen.
"Just head straight up. Once you find the box, ask for Kasenhis's seat—just sit there." Kasen said, still munching on his sausage.
"Thank you!" the boy piped crisply, then ran off toward the box seats.
Kasen only shrugged and continued eating his sausages. With his head tilted back, he still couldn't make sense of the rules at all.
Well, not entirely—at least he could understand the score.
For instance, the current score was: Bulgaria, 10 points; Ireland, 170.
But soon—though he had no idea what had just happened—Bulgaria suddenly gained 150 points, and then the match was over.
"Oh… that was a bit fast." Kasen shrugged. He returned to the box, planning to leave with Lupin and the others back to the campsite, only to find reporters from the Daily Prophet already there conducting interviews.
One reporter quickly spotted Kasen and immediately shoved a magical camera in front of his face.
"Professor Kasenhis, what are your thoughts on the Bulgarian team having the best Seeker of the season, yet still missing the championship?"
Kasen shrugged helplessly. What could he say? He didn't even understand the basic rules of Quidditch.
But then he noticed the little wizard he had given the seat to earlier. The boy was still pouting and nodding sadly, clearly upset over Bulgaria's loss. Yet when he lifted his head and saw Kasen, he still managed to squeeze out a smile.
"Mmhm…"
"Professor Kasen?" the reporter pressed again.
"Oh? I'm building up the mood." Kasen snapped back to attention, cleared his throat, and then drew in a deep breath.
"Geneva! Refund!"
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