As the mascots left the field, the match was about to begin amid Ludo Bagman's booming voice.
"Let us welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!"
Under his introduction, the Bulgarian players emerged one by one, powerfully built and clad in red uniforms.
The last to appear was, of course, the most crucial position on the team—the Seeker—and Bulgaria's brightest star: Viktor Krum.
Tver watched him astride the latest model of the Firebolt. Compared to when they had last parted a few years ago, Viktor looked a little leaner now.
Or rather, his muscles were denser and more tightly honed.
His signature heavy brows and hooked nose still gave him the look of a hawk poised to strike. It was hard to believe that someone with such an aggressive presence was only eighteen years old.
"Honestly, if the two of you swapped ages, it wouldn't feel strange at all," Cynthia teased with a laugh.
To maintain a calm, nonthreatening image, Tver usually dressed far more mildly. Walking through Hogwarts, anyone who didn't know him might easily mistake him for a student.
"Maybe we should add another ten years to Viktor's age," Tver replied, equally unkind in his joking.
Fortunately, once the Irish team entered the pitch, the match officially began, leaving Viktor no time to notice the exchange.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the match officially begins!"
With a sharp whistle, the four game balls burst from the box, streaking through the air as players from both sides rushed to claim them.
High-level Quidditch was completely different from what Tver had seen at Hogwarts.
The sheer flying speed alone far exceeded anything the students had ever experienced.
Harry also rode a Firebolt, but as a Seeker, he rarely took part in offensive play and almost never pushed his broom to its absolute limit.
The players on the field, however, had no concept of slowing down. From start to finish, they maintained the fastest speed their brooms could possibly deliver.
So fast that all Tver could see were flashes of red and green.
"I should've bought two telescopes," he muttered quietly.
Cynthia, on the other hand, turned back with bright excitement.
"If you use the replay function, you'll miss all the best moments happening right now!"
Unlike Tver, Cynthia actually had a decent feel for Quidditch and was clearly enjoying herself.
Relying on his excellent dynamic vision, Tver was still able to grasp the general flow of the game.
Ireland's tactics were more refined and disciplined, with stronger coordination and teamwork. It could be said that, aside from the Seeker position, Ireland completely outmatched Bulgaria.
Bulgaria had reached the finals precisely because of their Seeker. Viktor always managed to catch the Golden Snitch at critical moments.
Both teams' strategies were actually quite straightforward.
Ireland aimed to build a lead of more than one hundred and fifty points before Viktor could catch the Snitch.
Bulgaria, meanwhile, focused on minimizing the score gap to buy Viktor as much time as possible to search for it.
As Ireland continued to score and rapidly widen the gap, their Seeker, Linzi, stayed glued to Viktor from start to finish, trying to interfere with him at every turn.
But a single, expertly executed Wronski Feint from Viktor sent Linzi crashing down, badly injured.
Using a sudden high-speed dive to lure the opposing Seeker downward, then pulling up sharply at the last moment, tricking the opponent into slamming toward the ground.
The maneuver bought Viktor precious time, but it also sent the tension on the pitch skyrocketing.
Physical clashes became frequent. Beaters swung their bats without restraint, hammering at opponents and drawing gasps of alarm from the crowd.
The scene gave Tver a strange sense of déjà vu, like watching an ice hockey match.
In the Muggle world, outside of Olympic events, ice hockey players were actually allowed to fight, sometimes even chosen specifically for that purpose.
Maybe Quidditch could adopt something similar. The space below the pitch was wide open. Players with grudges could be sent down there to settle things with magical duels.
Tver rubbed his chin, seriously considering the idea.
Harry shivered involuntarily, so distracted that he didn't even notice the moment when Viktor, whom he had just started to admire, was struck by a Bludger.
Perhaps the blood streaming from his injured nose fueled his fighting spirit, or perhaps he simply realized the score gap was growing too large.
Under the breathless gaze of the entire stadium, Viktor launched an even more ferocious dive than before.
Linzi noticed it at once, and the two entered another headlong plunge together.
Victory once again belonged to Viktor. He raised the Golden Snitch high in his hand and landed safely on the ground.
But defeat belonged to him as well. Bulgaria lost to Ireland with a final score of 160 to 170.
"What a shame. If Viktor's teammates had been a bit stronger, the result might have been different," Cynthia said softly, unable to hide her sympathy as she looked at Viktor's blood-smeared face.
Ever since the incident involving the teacher, Durmstrang's reputation beyond its own walls had never been particularly good.
But in recent years, Viktor Krum's rise had dramatically improved how many people viewed the school.
Bearing that reputation on his shoulders, Viktor had been careful with his words and actions from the moment he became famous, quietly working to uphold the image of both his school and his country.
Yet despite everything he had given for this match, the championship still slipped through his fingers.
Tver felt a pang of regret as well, thinking of the kid who used to trail after him so eagerly.
After the match ended, it was time for the final trophy presentation.
Even the Bulgarian team, who had finished as runners-up, were invited by Ludo Bagman to the Top Box.
After all, their Minister of Magic was present.
That Minister showed no sign of displeasure. The team making it this far had already exceeded his expectations—or rather, the expectations of Bulgaria as a whole.
Making sure everyone could hear, he praised Krum at length in English, his voice full of enthusiasm. It was the first time he had spoken English all evening.
"You can speak English?!" Fudge stared at him in shock. "Then why did you make me gesture like an idiot for so long?"
The joy of Ireland's victory vanished from his face, replaced by the irritation of having been played.
"I thought it was funny."
"Well, I suppose losing to Ireland was already enough of a surprise for you…"
Fudge glanced toward where Marvolio stood and immediately regained his confidence, turning to needle the Bulgarian Minister with thinly veiled sarcasm.
But neither the Bulgarian players nor spectators like Tver paid any attention to them.
Because—
"Panda Warlord?!" Viktor stared at Tver in astonishment, then at Cynthia beside him, who was struggling so hard not to laugh that her face had gone bright red.
"…"
"Did a Bludger knock the sense out of you too?" Tver asked flatly, looking at him without a trace of expression.