Just moments ago, Abel had strutted with arrogance and displayed unrestrained aggression. But now, as he left with hunched shoulders and a drooping expression, he resembled nothing more than a defeated, tail-between-his-legs mutt.
Fleur watched him disappear from sight, then turned to Moriarty with a knowing smile at the corner of her lips. Her voice was tinged with amusement as she explained.
"Moriarty, your strength has spread across the entire French magical aristocracy. The young masters and noble daughters from those pure-blooded families have clearly been warned by their elders: do not provoke you."
Her eyes glittered with admiration and gratitude. Moriarty's power had cast a protective shadow over her — with it, Abel wouldn't dare to pester her again.
Roman and Maxi both nodded in sudden understanding. "Ah, so that's what it is," Roman said with a grin.
Their eyes lit up with excitement. Roman turned to Peru, eyes burning with challenge. "Now that Mr. Moriarty's reputation precedes him even here in France, I suggest you pray to Merlin you don't end up facing us. Or you'll find yourself shipped back home before you've even unpacked your luggage here at Hyprosai."
Peru scoffed. "Those are exactly the words I had prepared for you, Roman. If our teams clash, be prepared to cry from the beating I'll give you."
With that last jab, Peru turned and led the French team away.
Moriarty turned toward Fleur, an eyebrow raised. "That Abel mentioned Lockhart. What's the issue? Are the French pure-bloods upset with him?"
Fleur nodded softly, her silver-blonde hair catching the light. "The French pure-bloods have always been... strategic. They believe Mr. Lockhart is a showman — all flair, no substance."
She paused, her brows drawing slightly together with frustration. "But I don't see it that way. Mr. Lockhart is a brilliant novelist. His works are enchanting — I've read every single one."
As she spoke, she glanced at Moriarty hesitantly, worried that her admiration might be misunderstood. She quickly added, "Of course, I only became interested after reading In Eastern Tibet with Slytherin. That book drew me in. It was captivating. That's when I started paying attention to him…"
Fleur's eyes searched Moriarty's face, looking for a response. But Moriarty's mind had already drifted to Lockhart's situation, his expression unreadable.
The truth was, Lockhart's book launch had looked successful on the surface, but in reality, it had only garnered support from French common-born wizards. The aristocratic pure-blood families remained wary — not just of Lockhart, but of Moriarty as well.
Moriarty had drawn their attention during the vampire incident, when he had publicly demonstrated his mastery of the Killing Curse. It hadn't been part of his plan — he didn't have the ability to foresee how that would change perceptions.
In hindsight, it was unfortunate.
But if blame was to be laid, Moriarty felt it should fall squarely on those damn vampires. Not on Fleur.
He smiled faintly and offered his thanks to Fleur.
Seizing the opportunity, Fleur suggested they watch the matches together.
Moriarty declined gently. "You know I'll be on the pitch myself."
Fleur flushed slightly but quickly composed herself. "Then I'll be in the stands, cheering for you — even if you're playing against France, I'll support you, Moriarty."
Her bashfulness stirred a mix of amusement and admiration in Roman and the others.
The boy with the wild, explosive hair nudged Roman's elbow. "Even a Veela, famous for her charm, is infatuated with him. What chance do you think we have?"
Roman laughed. "You're right. I might be loud, but I'm not a fool."
He slung an arm over the explosive-haired boy's shoulder. "If you're my brother, stay with me for life!"
The explosive head shoved him off with exaggerated disdain. "Sorry, don't know you."
Their antics made Fleur smile. Understanding it was time to part ways, she bid Moriarty farewell with one final glance — full of warmth and longing.
As Moriarty led the teams forward, he glanced back. Fleur stood where they had left her, her dress fluttering gently in the breeze as she watched his retreating figure.
Roman leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Captain, come on — tell the lads how you charmed the French Veela. Let us learn from your divine techniques."
Moriarty smirked. "Better not ask. You'll only end up depressed."
Though he didn't say it aloud, Moriarty had a decent grasp on Fleur's mindset.
As a Veela, Fleur was used to seeing men fall at her feet — entranced by her allure, willing to grovel beneath the hem of her gown.
And yet, here stood one man who had remained unaffected by her magic — Moriarty.
His immunity frustrated Fleur... and drew her in all the more.
Moriarty, however, was disinterested in dwelling on Fleur's affections.
He lifted his chin and nodded toward a group of players loitering outside the hotel. "Maxi, who are those players?"
Maxi squinted. "Let's see… Ah, that's the Polish team. I heard there's been some unrest in Poland recently."
"Unrest?"
Maxi grew serious. "Someone found the Saints' emblem — the one with the Deathly Hallows — on a key at the Polish port that connects to Canada."
Moriarty's eyes glinted. "The symbol of the Saints… Deathly Hallows… Grindelwald. So, those shadows creep into our tournament as well?"
No one answered. No one wanted to invoke memories of the war.
Roman quickly changed the subject and pointed to the sky. "Look, sir — those two flying over the runway? That bizarre jersey belongs to the Transylvanian team. Sound familiar?"
He gave Moriarty a sly wink.
Moriarty smiled knowingly. "The Transylvanian Feint. Jericho used it on our keeper, remember?"
Maxi let out a whistle. "So Jericho has leveled up, huh? I'm glad. He's grown a lot."
But explosive-head cut in with a grin. "Transylvania isn't just famous for that trick. They were one of the finalists in the first-ever Quidditch World Cup — the other being Flanders."
Moriarty nodded. "That was the game with all 700 Quidditch fouls recorded, wasn't it?"
Lilith's summary of the Quidditch Laws had included that chaotic match. It had sparked an uproar and left a permanent legacy.
The explosive head gaped at Moriarty. "Incredible. You truly know everything, sir!"
Moriarty waved it off with modesty. "There are other teams worth watching — Norway, Brazil, Germany. All strong contenders."
Roman sighed. "True. They haven't won a Cup yet, but they're always in the semifinals — makes them tough rivals."
"This year's Bulgarian team is terrifying," Maxi added. "Especially Krum. He became famous when he was still a boy."
"I know him," Moriarty said, a sly light in his eye. "He's one of my past opponents. My defeated opponents."
Everyone gaped.
During the All-European Wizarding Duel, Moriarty had taken first place. Charlie had been runner-up. Viktor Krum had placed third.
From that day on, Moriarty had kept a close eye on Krum.
The explosive-head clasped his hands and whispered like a preacher. "If I were Krum, I'd skip all public appearances and just pray every day: 'Oh Merlin, please don't let me meet Moriarty!'"
His mock-devotion had everyone howling with laughter.
With spirits high, the group entered the hotel and settled into the accommodations prepared for the British national team.
Three days later, Moriarty led the British squad to the main Hypro Stadium to confirm their participation in the 421st Quidditch World Cup.
One key change had tongues wagging: Roman Reigns was no longer the captain. Moriarty had taken his place.
Word spread like wildfire. Every team — all 14 others — learned of the change.
Moriarty, in turn, reviewed the competing teams: France, Bulgaria, Canada, Germany, Brazil, Norway, Poland, Transylvania — and also Scotland, Eastern Ying, Australia, Mexico, Peru, and Turkey.
Among the names on the Eastern Ying roster, one stood out to Moriarty — Magician.
The moment he saw it, the system issued a new quest.
---
Ding Dong~
Host has entered the Quidditch World Cup. Main Mission unlocked:
Win the World Cup with a record of four straight victories!
Mission Objective: Defeat the Eastern Ying team!
Mission Duration: Until end of the World Cup
Reward: 100,000 points + Elemental Magic Level +3
Penalty for Failure: None
---
Moriarty accepted the task and reviewed the recent developments carefully.
He sat in a chair facing the sea, wind tousling his hair, and eyes as deep and untamed as the crashing waves before him.
"Magician. The Dongying Team. The Bingyue Necklace. Eternal Life... What secrets are you hiding?"