Tver set his thoughts aside and gave Bagman a surprised look.
He had heard before that Ludo Bagman didn't have the best reputation, but he hadn't expected him to see the Ministry's shifting currents so clearly.
"By the way, want to place a bet?" Bagman said with enthusiasm. "I'll wager ten Galleons that no matter when Fudge steps down, Barty will never get a shot at becoming Minister!"
He pulled out his money pouch, though Tver could tell at a glance that there were barely any coins left inside.
Whether he was genuinely broke or had already gambled it all away was anyone's guess…
Well, that certainly explained his reputation.
In the end, the bet never happened. For one thing, only a few people here actually understood the Ministry's situation. And for another—
The match was about to begin.
"It's time. Let's go!" Sirius said.
He had changed into a dark green robe, giving him the air of someone tempered by age yet still carrying a hint of youthful vitality. No one looking at him now would guess he had spent twelve years in Azkaban.
The Weasley family stood up at once, excitement written all over their faces.
Bagman, meanwhile, remembered that he was the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and still had work to do at the stadium. He hastily said his goodbyes, stepped outside, and Apparated away before the door had even closed, completely ignoring the Ministry's request to limit magic use at the campsite.
There was hardly any need to close the door anyway, because Ginny walked in just then, carrying a pile of souvenirs along with Harry, the other two, and the Weasley twins.
Harry was grinning so widely it looked as though his smile had been permanently fixed in place.
"Sirius, I bought you a pair of Omnioculars, and some scarves—"
"All right, son," Mr. Weasley cut him off. "Let's hand out the gifts after we're settled in the box."
Led by him, Tver followed the crowd toward the other side of the forest, where the stadium stood.
Night had already fallen, but bright lanterns floated above the treetops, lighting the path ahead. Laughter and chatter filled the air as people clutched their purchases and excitedly discussed their expectations for the match.
Everyone around them was the same, turning what should have been a quiet forest into a roaring crowd, punctuated now and then by bursts of spirited singing.
Even though Tver preferred peace and quiet, he didn't mind the liveliness.
Every occasion had its own atmosphere. There was no need to force everything to bend to personal preferences.
After nearly twenty minutes of walking, they finally reached one of the stadium entrances, where a Ministry witch stood checking tickets.
Sirius and Mr. Weasley immediately produced theirs. When it was Tver's turn, he awkwardly patted his empty pockets.
He had remembered to ask Sirius for tickets, but seemed to have forgotten to take his own…
Just then, Cynthia emerged from inside the stadium.
"I was about to go back to the tents to look for you. I didn't expect you to arrive so early," she said, handing a ticket straight to the witch. "This one's his."
The witch didn't even glance at it before stepping aside.
"First-class seating. Just keep heading up, that's the Top Box."
"My staff member," Cynthia explained under her breath, then greeted Mr. Weasley with practiced familiarity.
That surprised Tver even more than the fact he'd forgotten his own ticket.
"When did you get so close with Mr. Weasley?"
While everyone continued upward, Tver and Cynthia fell back a step to talk quietly.
"I'm on good terms with plenty of people at the Ministry," Cynthia said, clearly pleased with herself. "To make things easier, I've already gone through and met the old hands in every department, plus the new ones with potential."
"Marvolio's approach is to win people over. Mine is to make as many connections as possible. Maybe the friendships aren't deep, but when the time comes, the two methods will complement each other. Whatever you want to push through the Ministry, there'll be a whole crowd ready to follow your lead."
"Tsk, tsk," Tver said with a laugh. "You two work so hard you're making me look like I never do anything."
Cynthia's eyes curved into crescents.
"That's because you handle the key moments. The easier it looks for you, the smoother things are going for us, isn't that a good thing?"
"What things?" Fudge, with Marvolio behind him, had appeared at their backs without warning.
"The cause of maintaining world peace," Tver said with a smile.
Ever since the business with Sirius Black and the anti-werewolf law, Fudge had long since filed Tver and Cynthia under "Dumbledore's side." At this point, putting on a show of friendliness would've been too fake.
Of course, Tver didn't mind keeping up a polite surface.
Fudge choked on it for a second. There was a flicker of displeasure in his eyes, but he didn't let it show.
"Then I won't interrupt your discussion. I'll see you in the box later."
The smile fell from his face the instant he turned away, and he took Marvolio down toward the entrance.
"He seems more mature," Cynthia said.
"No," Tver replied, taking his eyes off Fudge's back. "He's just turning into a proper politician."
"Come on. They're probably already in the box."
The Top Box didn't actually have an amazing view. The players spent most of their time flying around the middle and upper portions of the stadium. Still, it was more comfortable than most seats.
After all, most of the stands didn't come with soft, gilded chairs.
There weren't many seats in the box, only a little over twenty, arranged in two rows.
The Weasleys alone took six. Add Sirius, Harry, Hermione, plus Tver and Cynthia, and then the Malfoys—three of them—and already half the seats belonged to Tver's side.
And that was without counting the pure-bloods Lucius was about to bring along…
The Malfoys seemed to be doing much better these days, dressed in lavish robes. The outer cloak was still unmistakably wizarding, but the clothes underneath… Tver couldn't shake the feeling that the fashionable cut looked more like something out of muggle luxury.
"I've heard Lucius is getting quite interested in the muggle world," Cynthia said, amused. "He's been trying out muggle life, even going around outside disguised as one."
"Ever since he realized he'd have to cut ties with his Death Eater identity, he's been studying how to blend into our side, so he can keep his standing among pure-blood families."
Tver couldn't help but chuckle as he greeted Lucius.
Lucius had been about to pull a sour face when he first saw the Weasleys. The moment he spotted Tver behind them, though, his expression flipped at once into a pleasant smile, leaving Mr. Weasley staring in confusion.
He'd come prepared for a round of cold sarcasm with Lucius.
Since nothing came of it, he simply led the children to find seats.
Over the next half hour, people drifted into the box one after another. From what Tver remembered, most were either from pure-blood families, the Ministry's upper levels, or both.
None of them were from the pure-blood group Tver intended to have Barty arrest.
Which made sense. They weren't as extreme as the lot in Azkaban, but they weren't much better either.
People like that shared one thing in common: in peacetime, their influence would never be enough to land Top Box tickets.
That was exactly why Tver could deal with them without a twinge of guilt.
They were useless, they loved stirring up trouble, and they still wanted someone else to feed them. As if.
Some of the pure-bloods coming in seemed to realize Lucius was their boss, and Tver was Lucius's boss.
But it wasn't something they could say out loud. So they sat stiffly in their seats, forcing rigid smiles at everyone on Tver's side.
The Weasleys and Sirius and the others felt the oddness too, and little by little they fell quiet.
In a stadium roaring with noise, this single box somehow turned into the quietest place of all…