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"This way of talking to people is exhausting."
After watching Carrow and the others leave, Ron quietly complained.
The moment he finished, Draco's sharp voice sounded.
"Oh, little Ronnie, was your dream not to become Minister for Magic? If you cannot even endure this much socializing, what Minister are you planning to become?"
Ron dreamed of becoming Minister for Magic. As his worst best friend, Draco knew that very well.
"You should know that without Brother D, many of those people would not even have been people we were qualified to greet."
"Even Fudge is better than you in this regard."
The earlier words had not stirred Ron much in his half-lazy state, but the last sentence was an insult.
Ron's eyes gradually sharpened.
Worse than Fudge? Who was he insulting?
"Even the young heir of the Malfoy family?"
Ron shot back, unconvinced.
He had expected Draco to become embarrassed and angry. Instead, the blond boy admitted it calmly.
"Of course. Unless I become head of the Malfoy family."
Draco understood this point very clearly. That group might be young, but most of them were the youngest and most outstanding batch from their pure-blood families. If they were not already family heads, they were people about to become family heads.
As long as Draco had not become head of the Malfoy family, he would always be a child in their eyes.
Draco's honesty left Ron with no good comeback.
Looking at Ron's lifeless expression, Draco's eyes turned.
"Do you think this is over? It has only just begun. There will be at least several more rounds like this. Pansy and the others have to wait until the end."
"Damn aristocratic manners."
Ron complained with theatrical indignation.
Malfoy looked at him seriously.
"Little Ronnie, if you truly want to become Minister for Magic, you had better start adapting to this pace now."
As Draco had said, this was only the beginning. Not long after Carrow and the others left, batch after batch of important-looking wizards came to visit.
Only at the very end did Pansy and the others arrive.
Eating warm biscuits fresh from the oven, Dudley observed the vendors who occasionally Apparated down from the air and kept trying to sell World Cup souvenirs to other wizards.
Hermione could also make biscuits, but hers were crisp and fluffy, scattering the moment his teeth touched them. Dudley was still more used to Daphne's.
They had enough chew.
The main issue was that Hagrid, Dudley's largest supplier of "chew sticks," had no idea what had come over him recently. He was busy breeding different magical creatures and did not even have time to display his cooking skills.
Which meant Dudley had nothing to gnaw on.
Dudley thought that the next Wizard Card Tournament could also sell merchandise. In terms of earning money, merchandise was not much worse than physical cards.
He took a small sip of tea to cut through the richness. Excessive sweetness was one of the great features of European desserts.
Painfully sweet.
In fact, Draco's father Lucius had also come to the Quidditch World Cup. He simply was not in Campsite One. At this moment, he was in one of the least noticeable corners among all the Quidditch campsites.
He was discussing something with several people in black robes, all of whom looked like anything but proper wizards.
This was also why others distinguished Draco from his father as the younger Mr. Malfoy.
When the elder Malfoy was still alive, father and son were generally distinguished this way.
It was not only the Malfoys. The Weasleys had also come. After all, this was one of the grandest events in the world.
At that moment, a deep, resonant gong sounded from the depths of the forest. Thousands upon thousands of red and green lanterns hanging from trees burst into light at the same time, illuminating the road toward the stadium.
The Quidditch match was officially beginning.
Dudley and the others left the tent and followed the crowd toward the Quidditch stadium.
"Top Box tickets! Top Box! Mr. Draco Malfoy, please go all the way up. Keep going until you reach the very top."
The ticket-checking witch spoke respectfully and pointed upward.
On the huge blackboard in the center of the stadium, golden words kept flashing, occasionally accompanied by a picture.
Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, Gladrags Wizardwear, and the like were all advertisements.
The Quidditch World Cup was different from the Wizard Card Tournament. The match itself was not especially profitable. Like the Muggle World Cup, it relied on advertising and sponsorships.
The inside of the box was wider and more comfortable than expected.
Vendors around them sold Omnioculars, magical devices that could replay scenes and show slow-motion footage. After all, competitive sports moved quickly. A single blink could make someone miss something. Even in the highest box, anyone who wanted to see the entire match clearly needed some assistance.
Not everyone was Dudley, who could see everything clearly from across the whole stadium.
In Diagon Alley, a pair of Omnioculars would cost a little over one Galleon. Sold here at the stadium, the price was at least five or six times higher. Without ten Galleons, the vendors would not even consider it.
Ron took out his own Omnioculars and began adjusting them. He had bought them on the way.
Ron, who had grown up poor, would not waste money on something like that here.
"Do you want to meet Fudge, Romario?"
Malfoy pointed next door and suggested, "He is right beside us."
"No."
Ron shook his head decisively.
Meet Fudge? Had he eaten too much?
As Ron and Draco traded barbs, several figures appeared outside the box.
"Well, well. Look who I have found."
"Is this not Mr. Dursley?"
An extremely exaggerated voice sounded. It could only be Fudge, the person Ron and Malfoy had just been discussing.
Ron did not go to see Fudge, but the Minister had delivered himself to their door.
"Dear Minister Fudge, I am very glad to see you."
Dudley answered in the same exaggerated tone.
"What a coincidence to meet you here."
Fudge had not come alone. Several Ministry officials followed behind him.
"Mr. Dursley, allow me to introduce everyone."
Fudge pointed to the woman standing close beside him, dressed in pink.
"This is Madam Dolores Umbridge, our Senior Undersecretary."
"It is a pleasure to meet you."
Umbridge's voice was full of artificial sweetness.
It had the uncomfortable feeling of an adult woman forcing herself to sound like a little girl.
She herself clearly did not think so.
"And this gentleman is Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
The man Fudge introduced had short gray hair and was slightly balding.
"Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
This was a broad, sturdy man with short golden-blond hair, blue eyes, and a face that always looked flushed.
Anyone who did not know him might think he was a rugby player.
The Ministry did not have many departments in total, so from any angle, these people were high-ranking Ministry officials.
After hearing Fudge introduce Dudley, Bagman seemed to want to say something to him, but in the end, he did nothing.
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