Sherlock's voice finally woke Harry.
At that moment, he also noticed that the enchanting music accompanying the performance had stopped.
Harry blinked in confusion, then discovered in shock that one of his legs was propped against the box's wall, giving the impression he was about to leap into the stadium.
Not far beside him, Ron had frozen in what looked like a diving position from a springboard.
Of course, they weren't the only ones who had lost their composure.
Behind them, Draco Malfoy was being firmly restrained by Lucius and Narcissa, still struggling desperately.
"Let me go! I want her—I want her now!"
Narcissa frowned, pointed her wand, and Draco immediately shuddered and slumped backward. Lucius caught him.
Similar scenes played out throughout the box, with the victims mostly young male wizards around Harry and Ron's age.
The adults appeared much more composed. Though their faces showed lingering satisfaction, none had done anything improper.
Compared to this small box, the atmosphere in the stadium was even more intense.
Angry roars filled the venue as people refused to let the Veela leave.
At this moment, Harry's thoughts aligned with theirs.
Of course he had to support the Bulgarian team!
Bulgaria had the Veela!
That was justice!
What was the Irish team anyway? They could go play with themselves!
He even wondered why he was wearing a large green shamrock on his chest.
Compared to Harry, Ron's behavior was even more extreme.
He was tearing at the shamrocks on his hat in a daze.
Bill, Charlie, and the twins were all quietly laughing.
Percy and Ginny looked at Ron with undisguised contempt.
Driven by lust—he'll never achieve greatness!
Just then, Mr. Weasley, as their father, couldn't watch anymore. Smiling, he leaned over and snatched the hat from Ron's hands.
"Don't do that, Ron," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "Wait until the Irish team's performance is over, and you'll need it."
"Hmm?"
Ron seemed not to have recovered from that state yet.
He grunted, staring slack-jawed at the Veela.
Though by now they had lined up on the other side of the field.
Hermione and Ginny together reached out to pull Harry back to his seat.
Hermione made a loud tutting sound. "Oh my, how could you act like this too!"
Ginny said, "But those are Veela, Hermione. Harry did quite well—look at Ron."
"But didn't Sherlock remain completely unaffected?" Hermione countered.
During the Veela's dance, Hermione had been watching everyone she knew in the box.
Especially Sherlock, because she was afraid he might do something like Harry and Ron.
Fortunately, from start to finish, Sherlock had watched the Veela's dance with an appreciative gaze.
When the performance ended, he remained steady as a mountain, completely unmoved.
The Weasley twins had been tempted, but after Bill and Charlie pulled them back, they quickly regained their senses.
Most surprising was Percy, whose performance was almost comparable to Sherlock's.
Throughout the whole process, he had frowned at the scene, managing to control himself and avoid making a fool of himself.
It was truly impressive.
Hearing Hermione's words, Ginny blurted out.
"Oh, how can Harry compare to Sherlock? Sherlock isn't even human!"
"Pfft~!"
"Sorry, Sherlock!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Ginny realized something was wrong and quickly apologized, but everyone had already burst out laughing.
Her face flushed red as she anxiously explained to Sherlock.
"Sherlock, you know what I mean! I—I didn't mean it that way! I mean... you're not like a human, no, I mean... you're not an ordinary person..."
Watching Ginny turn bright red with anxiety, Sherlock smiled faintly.
"Stay calm, Miss Weasley. As you said, I certainly understand what you're trying to express.
However, I must correct you—facing the Veela's ability to bewitch men requires not only sufficient willpower but also adequate mental preparation.
So don't be too harsh on Harry and Ron. This is their first time seeing Veela, and such a reaction without mental preparation is quite natural."
"Sherlock, thank you..." Harry said somewhat sheepishly.
"Thank you? Harry, I'm not making excuses for you," Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, I think you should have done better."
"Huh?"
Harry, who had just been secretly pleased that Sherlock had become so understanding, was immediately stunned.
"From the moment you saw them, you should have realized that your willpower couldn't resist them, and you should have made some defensive preparations.
Ron too—that posture just now was truly terrible."
Harry: "..."
Ron: "..."
Ginny, who had been flustered, couldn't help but laugh as she watched Sherlock lecture Harry and Ron, and she no longer felt as tense as before.
This small interlude diluted both Harry and Ron's willingness to "sacrifice themselves for justice," and the awkward situation of Ginny's unconscious blurt that "Sherlock isn't human."
Just then, Ludo Bagman's voice, resonant as a bell, rang out at just the right moment.
"Now—everyone raise your wands in the air! Let's welcome the mascot of the Irish National Team!"
As soon as he finished speaking, with a whoosh, a huge green and gold object flew into the stadium.
It was like a great comet that flew around the arena once, then split into two smaller comets, each rushing toward a set of goal posts.
At the same time, a rainbow arch suddenly appeared over the entire field, connecting the two glowing spheres.
When the rainbow faded, the glowing spheres merged again, forming a giant, dazzling shamrock.
The shamrock rose high into the air and began circling above the stands.
If it had been just that, it would have been fine.
But the next moment, something came clattering down from above.
Without exaggeration, it was like golden rain, like pearls falling from a broken string.
Coins! Gold Galleons!
"Wow—amazing!"
The Weasley twins and Ron cheered together.
The shamrock circled above their heads, constantly showering down huge gold coins that landed on their heads and seats.
With his excellent eyesight, Sherlock had already noticed that the giant shamrock was actually composed of countless little men.
Each little man wore a red vest, had a small beard, and carried a small golden or green lamp.
"They're Irish leprechauns!"
Mr. Weasley once again served as narrator, shouting over the cheers.
People in the stadium cheered loudly while scrambling chaotically—or diving under their seats to pick up coins.
At this moment, the dissatisfaction brought by the Veela's departure was finally completely washed away.
When he saw Ron happily grabbing a handful of gold coins, Sherlock smiled faintly.
"Money and beauty—humanity's eternal pursuits."
Hermione laughed. "Sherlock, that sounds a bit vulgar!"
Sirius, who was nearby, lowered his binoculars and teased.
"How about changing it to—career and love?"
Hermione's face immediately turned red.
She muttered something and turned her head away.
Next, the giant shamrock disappeared, and the leprechauns that composed it slowly descended to the field.
They ended up face to face with Bulgaria's Veela.
The stadium stood between them, creating a sense of confrontation at high noon.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the mascot performances have concluded. Now please give a warm welcome to—the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!"
Next, Ludo Bagman began introducing the Bulgarian players one by one.
Each time a name was called, the Bulgarian supporters cheered loudly.
When it came to the seventh name, before Bagman could speak, thunderous cheers erupted throughout the venue.
When Bagman loudly announced "Let's welcome—Viktor Krum," the intense cheering seemed about to overturn the entire stadium.
"It's him, it's him, it's him!"
Ron in the box also shouted loudly and began following Krum with his Omnioculars.
Although they had seen photos at the Bulgarian tent, everyone was still somewhat surprised when they saw him appear on the field in person.
He was dark and thin with a large hooked nose and two thick black eyebrows.
Combined with that quality Hermione had once called gloomy, he looked like an enormous eagle.
"Can you believe he's only eighteen!" Ron couldn't help saying to Sherlock and Harry beside him.
Clearly, although he supported Ireland, he was also a fervent fan of Krum.
After the Bulgarian team entered, naturally came the Irish team.
They also won cheers from the entire audience.
Of course, these cheers couldn't compare to Krum's.
However, their broomsticks attracted everyone's attention.
Firebolts! Seven of them!
At this moment, Harry suddenly remembered something from a year ago.
Back then in Diagon Alley, when he first saw the Firebolt.
The manager of Quality Quidditch Supplies had walked out of the shop and announced loudly to all onlookers.
"The Irish International Club has just placed an order for seven of these beauties—don't miss this, folks, these are the hot commodity of this World Cup!"
A year later, he was actually seeing them at the World Cup finals.
What a perfectly planted seed that had been!
Then Ludo Bagman called out.
"And our referee today, who has flown all the way from Egypt, the widely supported Chairman of the International Association of Quidditch. Hassan Mostafa!"
Cheers rose again as a short, skinny wizard in pure gold robes matching the stadium colors strode onto the field.
He had a large beard very characteristic of the Middle East region.
Those in the box needed Omnioculars to see a silver whistle protruding from beneath his beard.
Mostafa had a large wooden crate tucked under one arm and his referee's broomstick under the other.
He set the crate on the ground and gestured for both team captains to walk to the center of the field and shake hands.
The Bulgarian captain and the Irish captain walked to the center of the field together, staring at each other as they extended their right hands.
Nothing dramatic happened during this.
After a very normal handshake ritual concluded, referee Mostafa made a move that caused the entire audience to gasp.
He suddenly lifted his foot and kicked open the wooden crate he'd just set down.
The next moment, four balls shot into the air.
They were the bright red Quaffle, two black Bludgers, and the tiny, winged Golden Snitch.
Even with Harry's excellent dynamic vision, he only caught a glimpse of the Golden Snitch as it flew out of the crate before losing track of it completely.
Mostafa's action instantly made the entire audience feel as if they were igniting.
Harry was also excited—world-class matches were truly different!
Look, even the referee was so distinctive.
Then Mostafa mounted his broomstick while blowing the silver whistle.
The next moment, fifteen broomsticks rose into the air together.
The match officially began!
Sherlock didn't use the Omnioculars at first.
Even so, he could feel the excitement of this match.
As expected of the Wizarding world's highest-level sports competition finals—it truly didn't disappoint.
Whether it was the Irish players on Firebolts or the Bulgarian players with their superstar Krum, both teams' speeds were unbelievably fast.
Because the Chasers kept passing the Quaffle back and forth, commentator Ludo Bagman could only manage to call out their names, unable to describe what they were actually doing.
For players with longer names like "Dimitrov" or "Ivanova," he couldn't even finish their names before the Quaffle had already reached the next person's hands.
High-difficulty moves from Hogwarts Quidditch matches were executed effortlessly by these world-class players, as if they were nothing.
Sherlock turned to look at Harry and found this young protégé completely immersed in the match.
He pressed the Omnioculars tightly against his glasses, pushing them into his nose bridge.
Watching him twist the slow-motion knob on the right side of the Omnioculars and occasionally press the play analysis button on top, Sherlock chuckled softly and picked up his own Omnioculars.
The tool's purpose was finally being realized.
For instance, when three Irish Chasers flew close together, the middle player slightly ahead, all three advancing toward Bulgarian players.
Purple explanatory text immediately flashed across the lens.
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