Moriarty stepped into the grand Pentagon Office, his eyes drawn immediately to the gleaming silver-white marble floor. The sunlight pouring in from the tall windows reflected off the polished surface, casting a radiant glow that brightened the entire room.
Seated before the towering floor-to-ceiling windows was Paul Jackson, the President of the Magical Congress of the United States. Positioned behind a wide, dark ebony desk, Jackson's presence was commanding—his silhouette sharp against the light, a picture of dignity and power.
To Paul's left sat US Athletic Director James. Upon seeing Moriarty, James offered a warm and familiar smile.
Moriarty gave a slight nod in return before casting his sharp gaze around the room. His eyes swept past James' seat and surveyed the office with careful intent.
This office was the epicenter of magical governance in the United States—where hundreds of documents flowed daily, where verdicts were passed and authority reigned supreme. It was both command center and sanctum.
After examining the surroundings, Moriarty's eyes flicked back toward Paul and he commented dryly, "It seems to me the layout of this Pentagon Office mirrors that of an old-fashioned parliamentary debate room. I would wager that when American wizards constructed this office in 1982, they drew inspiration from the British House of Commons and House of Lords."
"Precisely, Mr. Moriarty," Paul Jackson replied, his sharp gaze locking onto Moriarty's. Jackson wore his semi-long hair neatly, his beard trimmed and dignified. He had a sharp, calculating intellect that revealed itself through the piercing glint in his eyes.
Rising from his chair, Paul walked toward Moriarty. "Since the seventeenth century, the Magical Congress of the United States has been relocated multiple times. With each relocation, we absorbed architectural and magical elements from across the globe—melding various cultures into our own traditions."
He extended his right hand in welcome. "Over the centuries, the British Ministry of Magic and MACUSA have shared an enduring and close relationship. So…" Paul smiled. "Welcome, Mr. Moriarty."
Moriarty grasped the offered hand with practiced diplomacy before introducing Roman and the other players. After the greetings concluded, Paul gestured toward the seats to his right, where they all sat.
"Now, to business," Paul said as he reclaimed his chair. "Director James brought me a proposal last year—a 'star-making project' you authored. Now that you've arrived in the United States, I believe it's time to launch this project."
Moriarty shared a look with James, who spoke up. "Mr. Chairman, Mr. Moriarty, the Blanche family will offer full cooperation in the execution of this endeavor."
Moriarty inclined his head.
"Since the inception of the star-making plan, I've taken extensive preparatory steps," he said coolly. "These include improving Quidditch proficiency, unifying the national team, manipulating power transitions within the British Ministry of Magic, expanding pure-blood influence, consolidating capital, and maintaining balance within the magical hierarchy."
Though Moriarty recounted his strategy calmly, Paul was stunned internally. Moriarty was no longer merely a rising figure—he was now someone to be courted, never opposed.
"Today, the entire British wizarding establishment stands behind me. It is time," Moriarty declared. "The star-making project begins."
"Outstanding," Paul said, clearly pleased. "Britain has always been the cornerstone of European magic. With your support and the Ministry's endorsement, the International Confederation of Wizards will have no cause to interfere. We act together."
Moriarty eyed Paul thoughtfully. Paul was a cautious politician, but his instincts were acute. He saw the crux of power quickly.
Though Britain and the U.S. were formidable in unison, the Quidditch World Cup was a treasure everyone wanted. In such competition, there was no telling what formidable adversaries might emerge.
Thus, the conversation between Moriarty and Paul quickly turned pragmatic and efficient. In the following two hours, they outlined a plan of action:
Paul named Moriarty and Maxi Blanche III as the primary star-making targets.
The U.S. and U.K. national team players were designated as secondary prospects.
Jericho Blanche was assigned as a follow-up candidate.
They aligned on the core of the "World Cup Big Game." Paul and James pledged to leverage the liquidity of the Jackson and Blanche families to partner with the British Foley and Flint families, expanding the financial scope of the event.
Moriarty proposed allocating 20% of the profits to entice the Canadian Ministry of Magic into the alliance. Paul and James agreed.
Paul volunteered to make the diplomatic overture himself—Canada traditionally followed America's lead in magical affairs.
Moriarty agreed readily—not out of sentiment, but to understand the finalized tournament schedule.
The Quidditch World Cup followed a structured format: qualifiers and finals.
The qualifying round, or group stage, took place in the year following the prior Cup. Any nation could register a team. These teams were placed into 16 groups and competed round-robin for points.
The top team in each group would qualify for the finals.
Roman had led the Dream Team through the group stage and secured their place in the knockout round. Moriarty arrived in Canada to finalize registration, signaling that the British team was entering the final stage.
The finals were single-elimination—commonly called the knockout round.
Teams were seeded based on their group-stage points. The top seed would play the lowest, second-highest would face second-lowest, and so on.
This theoretically enabled the strongest teams to meet only in the final.
But "theoretically" was the operative word.
In reality, influence and backroom dealings—"dark box operations"—often shaped the matchups.
The top three seeds this year were Bulgaria, Brazil, and the United States.
As the host, Canada would conveniently avoid all three in the opening knockout round.
Moriarty wanted the same privilege extended to Britain.
"We are aligned," he said, his smile slow and knowing. "This alliance must not fall in the round of sixteen. This World Cup is dominated by our three nations. As for the champion… that will be settled in the semifinals and final."
"Precisely! I'll contact Canada's Minister immediately," Paul replied enthusiastically.
As Moriarty stood to leave—citing a 'warm-up match'—he and James exchanged glances. Roman and the others rose slowly, their faces pale with revelation. Moriarty had turned their world inside out.
Even without understanding the betting, the players were shaken by what they'd witnessed—especially the mechanics of the schedule.
Many players spent their entire careers chasing the dream of top-three placement.
To Moriarty, such placements were mere bargaining chips.
"Moriarty," Roman said suddenly as they exited the building. "What is the value of glory, if it can be bought with coin and influence? Is Slytherin's pride just a mask for corruption?"
He faced Moriarty squarely, pain in his eyes.
Moriarty stopped and turned, his gaze icy. The temperature seemed to drop.
"Since when did Durmstrang breed such innocence?"
His voice was devoid of mercy. "You're a full-grown wizard in your twenties—and yet, not a competent one."
"Securing great gains with minimal cost—finding the shortest path to victory—that is power. There are many routes to glory. If you cannot grasp this before the round of sixteen, don't expect any kindness from me."
"And never speak the word Slytherin again. You haven't earned it."
With that, Moriarty walked on. James led the way, exiting the Woolworth Building. Roman followed behind, shaken, supported by his teammates.
James led Moriarty to a secluded corner of the plaza.
"Are you certain it was wise to reveal your links to Old Foley and Old Flint to Paul?" James asked cautiously.
"I revealed it deliberately," Moriarty said, eyes glittering. "I don't trust him."
"This was a test. If he cooperates, he'll gain. If he betrays us—Canada will be his grave."
James shivered slightly. Moriarty noticed, and smiled softly.
"Don't worry," he said. "The games Paul and I play will not affect our alliance."
"Now—take me to meet Maxi Blanche III," he added, his voice returning to command. "Jericho's most admired brother."