Chapter 178 — Conversation in the Box
---
"Would you feel better if I told you those gold coins were conjured by the Irish leprechauns using magic?" Malfoy looked at Pansy with amusement. Her little money-lover personality made him feel lighter.
"What's the difference? They're still gold coins," Pansy said gloomily.
"Since they were made with magic, the coins will disappear when the time limit is up," Malfoy explained patiently.
"Then why are they so eager to pick them up now?" Pansy pointed casually. Several people wearing hats with clover patterns bent down frantically. Some even crawled under their seats to grab the coins. "If the coins are fake, why would anyone bother picking them up?"
"That's because they're as stupid as you."
Malfoy lightly tapped Pansy on the forehead. The movement was gentle, like a breeze, but it still made a few strands of hair on her forehead flutter messily.
"Don't hit my head! If I become stupid, it'll be because you hit me," Pansy complained. She quickly tidied her hair, though her tone was no longer as gloomy as before.
Now that she looked at the crowd scrambling for the coins, she suddenly felt much better.
Thinking that those people had worked so hard only to end up with nothing after the coins vanished made her feel strangely comforted.
"Besides, are you here to watch the match or pick up gold coins?" Malfoy continued.
Before he could finish, he felt Pansy shaking his shoulder vigorously. Her face was flushed with excitement and her attention had already shifted elsewhere.
"Draco, look!"
Malfoy immediately turned toward the pitch.
The rain of gold coins had nearly stopped. It was time for the national teams to enter.
The giant clover disappeared, and the leprechauns slowly descended onto the field opposite the Veela. They sat cross-legged, ready to watch the match.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! Let me introduce—Dimitrov!"
A figure dressed in red shot out from an entrance below the stadium, riding a broomstick. He flew so fast that he looked like a streak of lightning.
Thunderous applause erupted from the Bulgarian supporters.
"Ivanova!"
Another figure in a bright red robe soared into the air.
"Zograf! Levski! Vokanov! Volkov! And finally—Krum!"
Viktor Krum was dark and thin, with grayish-yellow skin, a large hooked nose, and thick black eyebrows that made him look like a giant eagle. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen—and still a student.
"And now, please welcome the Irish National Quidditch Team!" Bagman shouted.
"Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! And… Lynch!"
Seven green figures streaked across the sky toward the arena. Their broomsticks were Firebolts, and their names were embroidered across their backs in silver thread.
"And our referee today, the highly respected president of the International Quidditch Federation, Hassan Mustafa, who has flown all the way from Egypt!"
"You talk too much," Pansy muttered impatiently, though her eyes never left the field.
Around the stadium, spectators suddenly waved their flags in perfect unison, as if the movement had been rehearsed thousands of times.
The flags shifted and rearranged themselves, forming a giant image of Krum catching the Golden Snitch, like thousands of tiny squares assembling together.
Then the image changed again, and Krum in the flag actually began to smile.
"That's amazing!"
On the other side of the stadium, the Weasley family watched eagerly.
Ron shouted excitedly as he stared at Krum with admiration. The Bulgarian Seeker was his idol, and Ron dreamed of flying across the pitch like that one day.
Harry felt the same excitement. Even Hermione, who usually wasn't very interested in sports, was caught up in the atmosphere.
"Come on! Catch the Snitch!" Fred and George yelled, cheering enthusiastically for their bet.
Then they looked at each other and added quickly:
"But not too soon!"
"Ah-ha-ha—they're off!" Bagman shouted.
"Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
Bagman's rapid commentary marked the official start of the match.
The players from both teams shot back and forth across the sky, leaving nothing but afterimages behind them. The Firebolt broomsticks demonstrated their incredible speed in the hands of the professional players.
"Come on!"
When people became absorbed in the game, they stopped paying attention to anything around them.
Pansy was no exception.
She was so focused on the match that she didn't even notice the person sitting beside her quietly leave his seat.
---
Barty Crouch Jr. felt that his mind was gradually becoming clearer.
He was desperately trying to break free from the Imperius Curse.
His consciousness was still hazy. He only remembered that he seemed to be watching a Quidditch match—but where was he now? A private box, or the stands?
The roaring cheers from the stadium rolled over him like thunder, making his head spin even more.
"Master, please stop! Please watch the match quietly and don't cause trouble for the master! This is the rare opportunity the master gave you!"
Winky looked anxiously at Barty Crouch Jr., who was struggling violently.
"Oh?"
At that moment, Winky suddenly heard a young man's voice filled with curiosity.
"What a strange house-elf. Are you talking to the air?"
Malfoy asked knowingly.
He had already slipped into the private box belonging to Barty Crouch, the acting head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
The box was empty.
Only a few purple chairs trimmed with gold stood scattered around.
Barty Crouch himself was far too busy to enjoy the Quidditch World Cup Final. He had briefly appeared during the opening ceremony and then hurried away.
Perhaps that was the source of his son's resentment.
Crouch devoted himself completely to work, neglected his family, and was extremely strict. Yet he never knew that he had always been proud of his son, often boasting to colleagues about how brilliant Barty had been at school.
But their lack of communication led to tragedy.
Before Barty Jr. was imprisoned, father and son might still have reconciled.
After Barty Jr.'s mother died in order to save him, however, there was no longer any chance for reconciliation.
Winky froze for a moment before forcing herself to speak calmly.
"Winky was only talking to herself. Winky has a mental problem. Please ignore Winky's nonsense."
"Really?" Malfoy said, pretending to accept the explanation.
"I came here to ask Uncle Crouch for help. The ticket inspector told me this is his box. Since he isn't here, I'll just wait here. There's an empty seat anyway."
As he spoke, Malfoy walked toward the chair where Barty Jr. sat hidden beneath an Invisibility Cloak.
"Hm? Why is this chair shaking?"
Although the seat appeared empty, it trembled violently.
"Interesting."
Malfoy stepped closer.
As if he could see through the invisible fabric, he reached out and grabbed it.
The Invisibility Cloak was pulled away, revealing Barty Crouch Jr.
Without the cloak covering him, it lost its magic and fell to the floor as a piece of shimmering silver cloth.
"Well… look what I found."
Malfoy's wand was already pressed against Barty Jr.'s temple.
If he wished, he could kill the man instantly.
"Oh no! Winky made a terrible mistake!"
Winky cried in horror.
"Winky failed the master! The young master has been discovered!"
Her entire body trembled violently. Fear and guilt filled her large eyes.
Perhaps her master would punish her…
Perhaps he would even give her clothes.
The thought alone caused Winky to faint on the polished wooden floor.
Barty Crouch Jr. ignored Malfoy's threat.
He struggled to stand up, exhausted from fighting the Imperius Curse for so long.
"Tell me," Malfoy said calmly, "what do you believe in? Your answer will decide your fate."
"Has my father finally lost patience with me?" Barty Jr. laughed wildly.
"Did he send such a young Auror to judge me? Tell me—are you an Auror?"
He laughed even harder.
"Since you asked, I'll answer. My faith is loyalty to my master. The great Dark Lord has only temporarily lost his power. My master will rise again."
"Very good."
Malfoy nodded.
"It seems Bertha Jorkins wasn't lying."
He lowered his wand.
"You're still loyal. That's good. Now we can continue talking."
"As a sign of sincerity, I'll introduce myself first."
"My name is Draco Malfoy. You may know my father."
"Oh," Barty Jr. sneered.
"The traitor's son."
He still remembered Lucius's testimony during the trials—how Lucius had claimed he acted under the Imperius Curse and escaped punishment.
"Really?" Malfoy replied calmly.
"Yet the 'traitor's son' came here to find you. Otherwise you'd still be a mindless puppet under your father's control."
Barty Jr. fell silent.
He wasn't convinced yet—but he was thinking.
"What should I do then?"
Suddenly he grabbed Malfoy's shoulders.
"You found me."
"Don't worry," Malfoy said calmly.
"We still have plenty of time."
"What we lack now… is the right opportunity."
Inside, Malfoy felt relieved.
The most important step had succeeded.
He had gained Barty Crouch Jr.'s trust.
"We should leave," Barty Jr. suddenly said, glancing around nervously.
"My father might return at any moment."