"Master, I'm not used to you looking like this."
Wade heard a faint rustling sound from the cloak as its collar stood up.
"Don't talk nonsense," Wade said. "Make yourself look normal."
"Wouldn't it be better to be invisible?"
The cloak grumbled, then, as if dyed, it turned a plain black from top to bottom, appearing almost to blend in with the night.
Wade looked around and, spotting a fallen young student, helped her up. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine…" the girl began, then looked up and saw the young wizard's face before her. She immediately cried out, "You—you're Harry Potter!"
In the dark night, people immediately looked in their direction.
Harry had appeared on Streaming Mirror several times and was already a full-fledged global "celebrity wizard." Even students from other countries could recognize him at a glance.
Wade frowned. "It's chaotic here. Get into the forest quickly."
"O-okay."
The girl agreed, her eyes fixed on his face. Wade gave her another push, and she stumbled towards the trees.
Wade looked around and, like the other kind wizards, ran towards the most chaotic area.
However, compared to the others, his height was rather conspicuously short.
Wade had just knocked down a Leprechaun with a Stunning Spell when his arm was suddenly grabbed. He turned to look, and it was Sirius.
"Harry!" the person behind him cried out, looking worried. "What are you doing here? Never mind, come with me!"
He dragged Wade towards the forest. Wade didn't resist. He watched the other person's back, pursed his lips, and his eyes held a hint of disdain.
As the two ran past a palace-style tent, the man suddenly cried out "Ouch!" and fell, rolling into the shadows behind the tent, clutching his leg and groaning in pain on the ground.
"What's wrong?" Wade asked, standing nearby with concern.
"My leg… I think my leg is broken." He reached out, speaking with difficulty. "Help me up, Harry."
"Oh." Wade acknowledged, reaching out to pat him. Before the man could grasp it, Wade's hand retracted.
The man grabbed at empty air. He looked at Wade's serious and concerned face in confusion, wondering if what he had said was "give me five" instead of "give me a hand."
Should I say it again?
He pretended his leg was in great pain and was about to speak when he suddenly saw Wade rummage in his pocket and then hand him something.
The man looked down… Why does it look like a badge?
"What's this?" he asked instinctively, holding the badge.
"A one-way ticket," Wade said with a smile, waving his hand. "Have a pleasant journey, Mr. Troka."
Garr Troka, disguised as Sirius, looked up in astonishment. "How did you—"
Before he could finish, he felt a hook suddenly yank him from behind his navel. His feet left the ground, and he was flying!
*"Bang!"*
The Vampire landed on the ground and rolled twice. When it looked up, it saw a huge furnace ahead, with coals burning a golden-red. The heat seemed enough to singe hair.
Garr quickly scrambled backward a few steps on all fours, and the back of his head bumped into someone's leg.
He turned around and saw an old man wearing peculiar protective goggles, holding a long-necked glass bottle, looking down at him.
"…Wade?" the old man called out softly, tentatively.
"Wade Grey?"
Garr jumped, quickly looking around, expecting to see that chilling face if he turned his head.
But there was nothing.
"No?" Wawerlett mumbled disappointedly. "I thought Wade finally used the Portkey I gave him… Who are you? Young man."
"I…" Garr looked at him, his heart pounding. Just as he was about to probe the other's identity, the door was pushed open.
"*Petrificus Totalus!*"
Before he could even see the newcomer's face, a spell was cast upon him. Garr fell rigidly to the ground like a wooden board, his limbs pressed tightly against his body, unable to move, only his eyeballs still rolling around.
"I'll take this guy, Wawerlett," Antoine said, smiling as he dragged Garr by one leg towards the door. "He's a wanted criminal. Wade can't deal with him right now, so he sent him over."
"Oh, oh."
Wawerlett didn't really understand the situation, but since it wasn't Wade, he couldn't be bothered to ask more. He simply picked up the badge Garr had dropped on the floor, blew on it, and then rubbed it twice with his thumb.
"That brat, I gave him something to save his life, and he just throws it around."
The old man grumbled discontentedly, then re-cast the Portkey spell, put the badge into a small bag, wrote "Wade Grey (for)" on it, and then had an owl take it away.
Watching the grey bird fly into the distance, Wawerlett couldn't help but sigh, muttering to himself:
"It's not easy to be favored by Gellert… Wade, you must protect yourself well!"
…
Now for the other side of the story.
Wade, who had tried to reel in a big fish but accidentally caught a shrimp, continued to wander around pretending to be Harry. Meanwhile, on the other side of the camp, the real Sirius found himself in an extremely awkward situation.
Two and a half hours earlier, after the match ended and people began leaving the stadium, Sirius knew Harry was safe with the Weasleys. He quietly followed the Malfoys as they left their box.
The path was shoulder-to-shoulder with spectators, and Lucius Malfoy didn't notice at all that he was being followed.
In truth, it was hard to tail anyone in such a crowded environment. Less than five meters from the stadium exit, Sirius was separated from the family by the throngs of people, losing sight of them.
But he wasn't worried. With a slight shift of his body, a large Grim appeared in the crowded path. His Animagus transformation was incredibly skilled, and the night was dark, so no one around him noticed.
The Grim sniffed, catching a whiff of perfume in the air. Without hesitation, it strode forward, weaving between people's legs. Soon, it spotted the family's light blonde hair.
Draco Malfoy, swinging his Wand, excitedly mimicked Krum's diving maneuvers from the match.
"I thought he was going to crash and die—that perfect Wronski Feint! Genius tactics! If I could master that trick, I wouldn't lose to Potter, that Scarhead, in matches anymore!"
"And then what?" Lucius Malfoy interrupted him, sneering. "You'd accidentally break your own neck? Draco, I thought you knew—Quidditch is just a game. You don't need dangerous stunts to impress the crowd!"
"I..." Draco Malfoy said stubbornly, "I just... I just want to beat Potter! I hate losing to him!"
"Then practice your spells more!" Lucius Malfoy said unhappily. "I'd rather you achieve better results than Harry Potter, or utterly defeat him in a duel!"
Draco's pale face immediately flushed crimson.
"Your father is right, Draco." His mother, Narcissa, gently smoothed her son's wind-tousled hair with her slender fingers. "Don't risk your life for a game like this. The Quidditch World Cup isn't as important as your safety, let alone just a school match."
The Grim, hiding nearby, snorted through its nose, casting a disdainful glance at the spoiled blonde boy.
As they spoke, the group had reached a quiet passage, putting distance between themselves and the other spectators.
"Narcissa, take Draco into the forest. Don't come back until the commotion is over." Lucius then looked at his son. "Stay with your mother, don't run off, or you'll lose your allowance next term!"
Pale-faced, Narcissa's eyes showed disapproval, but she said nothing, merely nodding silently. Draco immediately pressed, "Dad, what are you going to do?"
Lucius Malfoy leaned on his cane, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"A night of revelry needs a little extra entertainment," he said. "We're going to find some Muggle... entertainment."
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