Roman and his party rode broomsticks, following Moriarty as they flew toward Hyprosay.
Hyprosay, often dubbed the "Capital of Floating Waves," boasted a stadium worthy of its name—entirely constructed by the sea.
The main stadium shimmered white under the sun, shaped like a swan in mid-flight, its staggered roof texture mimicking a Canadian maple leaf, a subtle homage to the host nation.
To the left of the main arena stretched a broad runway for players to test their flight skills, land safely, and warm up before matches.
Lining this expansive area were wizarding hotels, hospitals, restaurants, and sporting goods shops—an enchanting district akin to a seaside Diagon Alley.
The beach, kissed by sunlight, was crowded with witches and wizards lounging on enchanted sunbeds, basking in the golden rays and chatting animatedly.
The stands within the main stadium were a marvel of magical engineering. They extended and retracted like drawers through charms embedded into their structure.
When active, the lower tier slid forward, extending towards the pitch, while hidden sections rose in unison to form a complete viewing platform. When dormant, they retracted seamlessly, vanishing into the stadium walls.
What captivated most spectators, however, was the architectural break between the middle and upper stands—a deliberate gap that revealed the endless blue of the Pacific Ocean.
Moriarty flew silently above the runway. As he gazed westward at the vast ocean, his senses sharpened. The rhythmic rise and fall of the waves resonated with the magical theory of water elements, deepening his comprehension.
"System, check my elemental level," Moriarty instructed silently.
The system responded crisply:
"Host status: Level 43 Magician (Water), Level 25 Elementary Wizard (Wind)."
"And my current points and number of lottery draws?" Moriarty asked, noting the system hadn't issued a main quest in a while.
"Total accumulated points: 400,800 (main quests), 65,000 (random tasks). Combined: 465,800 points. Lottery draws available: 13.
Wishing the host continued success in becoming the mastermind behind the scenes."
"System, initiate a draw," Moriarty commanded. With the World Cup on the horizon, there was no room for hesitation—he needed certainty.
A gentle chime rang out:
"Ding—rewards obtained:
A toy car.
An old blanket once used by Bellatrix Lestrange.
Elemental Magic level increased by one (host may choose to upgrade either Water or Wind).
Voldemort's Magical Transformation Notes (1).
A vial of Living Hell Potion.
A large bottle of beauty potion.
A copy of Enchant Your Cheese.
Forbidden Eastern Black Magic: Summon Blood Crow.
Patronus Charm (Status: Cannot learn, cannot use).
A Mantra.
A piece of blank parchment.
Three alchemical ingredients: corn candle, blue shell, amethyst.
A bouquet of daffodils that never wilt.**
"All rewards have been transferred to system inventory."
"This draw had logic," Moriarty mused, spinning his wand as a flicker of flame ignited in his palm. With calm precision, he incinerated the toy car, the worn blanket, and the empty parchment. He had no patience for such frivolities.
A blanket used by Bellatrix Lestrange?
Bella...
Once a radiant Black daughter, now a madwoman drunk on blood and screams.
If the blanket had belonged to Narcissa, perhaps Moriarty might have reluctantly kept it. Perhaps.
With the undesirables purged, the remaining items were noteworthy.
The elemental upgrade was the most valuable. Without hesitation, Moriarty applied it to water magic—his new level: 44.
Then there was the Mantra—ancient, complex, and powerful. The Marauder's Map once eluded him due to such a spell, and now he held its essence in his hands.
Voldemort's Magical Transformation Notes—a treasure trove. Dumbledore had once hinted at the terrible dark transformations Tom Riddle had endured to become the noseless specter of fear known as Lord Voldemort.
Moriarty was curious about the precise arcane manipulations, the anatomical distortions, and the sacrificial rites involved in such transformations.
And finally, the Patronus Charm—once again marked unusable.
"System, this is the second time I've received the Patronus Charm, both times marked 'cannot learn' and 'cannot use.' Explain." Moriarty demanded, eyes narrowing.
The system's response was devoid of emotion:
"The host lacks sufficient positive emotional memory. The Patronus Charm requires the caster to conjure a strong, happy memory. Host's emotional data reveals no such memory."
Moriarty fell silent.
Stone-cold silence.
His heart, shaped by years of brutal training and life-or-death combat in a prior life, had little room for joy or sentiment.
Even here, in this magical world, he wore a constant mask, manipulating pure-bloods, seducing danger, and orchestrating wars behind the scenes. Diana's warmth, Tonks' affection, the triumphs against Fudge, the unity of the Hogwarts Army—these were sweet victories, yet none pierced deep enough to evoke happiness.
"Who," Moriarty wondered, "can leave a mark on a heart that forgot how to feel?"
Yet, the system's follow-up stirred interest.
"Due to the host's unique status, the system has altered the Patronus Charm effect. The host may now summon two Patronuses. Future draws may unlock more."
"I see," Moriarty said quietly. "So the third time I draw it, I'll gain a third Patronus?"
"Correct."
This development pleased Moriarty. He turned his gaze downward as Maxey flew beside him and gestured downward.
"Mr. Moriarty, it's our turn to land," Maxey called, signaling to his teammates.
Down below, Canadian Ministry officials waved them in. Within a minute, both national teams landed smoothly and dismounted, strolling toward the nearby hotel complex.
"Over there," Maxey pointed to sunbathers. "That's the Canadian national team—the host team this year."
"No doubt they'll walk straight to the finals," Moriarty said with a sardonic grin. It had been his suggestion, after all.
Maxey smirked in agreement. "Exactly."
He gestured again. "And that restaurant group? That's the Bulgarian team."
Roman chimed in, his voice carrying a trace of amusement. "I heard their Seeker is only thirteen years old. That's just a year older than you, sir!"
"A thirteen-year-old Seeker from Bulgaria?"
A name clicked in Moriarty's mind. "Victor Krum?"
"Yes! That's him!" Roman confirmed. "Did his name already spread to England?"
"No," Moriarty replied coolly. "And it won't. Not while I'm around. His fame will stay in Bulgaria."
The players chuckled. The arrogance in Moriarty's voice wasn't questioned—it was earned.
"Maxey, who else is here?" Moriarty inquired. In truth, all fifteen national teams were his rivals.
Maxey scanned the area. "Look at that group over there—those flamboyant, energetic types? That's the French team."
Roman and a few others snorted. "Figures. Only French wizards would prance around in silk robes at a tournament."
"They're all about romance and flair," Maxey said, laughing. "Even their robes have perfume charms."
The laughter turned rowdy, apparently loud enough for a nearby French wizard to overhear.
A tall boy with long, curly hair under a white Muggle T-shirt—clearly French—strolled by. Moriarty noted his sneer.
"Hey, Sister Fleur!" the boy called. "Come look! The British and American teams—together! Sworn enemies hugging it out?"
He scoffed loudly. "No wonder they dared challenge Minister Vonweh Capet. With American backing, of course Lockhart strutted into Paris like a peacock!"
At the mention of "Lockhart," Moriarty's steps halted.
JOIN MY PATREON TO READ 150+ CHAPTERS BEFORE PUBLIC RELEASE OR PURCHASE FOR LIFETIME ACCESS! WE ARE CURRENTLY ON VOL 3 CHAPTER 115
👉 Patreon.com/HACKDWORLD