This group of ravenous wizards immediately widened their eyes, their noses twitching incessantly like dogs as they began tracing the origin of that mysterious aroma through the air.
Before long, they locked onto their target.
There was simply no avoiding it; the open-air kitchen the house-elves had set up for Grindelwald was far too conspicuous.
What's more, their tent was situated at the highest point of the slope. Intimidated by the Dark Lord's deterrence, not a single tent dared to pitch right next to theirs—how could it not stand out?
Several wizards who couldn't cook to save their lives—even with the aid of magic—and had been starving for half the day, immediately ambled over with eager smiles.
They wanted to see if they might get lucky enough to score a free meal from Grindelwald.
However, the moment they caught sight of the old man currently preparing the ingredients, they slunk off dejectedly.
Who on earth would dare ask the First Dark Lord for a free meal???
That would be like carrying a lantern into a latrine—looking for shit.
The Weasleys and the Diggorys watched the old Dark Lord cooking with outright astonishment.
Was this really the First Dark Lord reported in The Daily Prophet—a ruthless murderer who effortlessly leveled the French Ministry of Magic and forcefully assassinated the President inside the headquarters of the MACUSA?
Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Diggory, in particular, looked at Grindelwald with rather peculiar expressions.
With the assistance of magic, Grindelwald was deftly handling over twenty dishes all at once.
This level of culinary skill was something even the two housewives conceded was superior to their own.
Before long, a lavish feast was laid out on the long dining table.
As the guests took their seats around the table, every single one of them applauded continuously. Grindelwald stood at the head of the table with a satisfied smile gracing his face.
His lips curled upward into a noticeably wider arc, especially when his eyes caught Kyle's admiring gaze.
Dumbledore, looking at the mouthwatering spread before him, did not look pleased in the slightest; instead, his face was a picture of gloom.
"Curse it," he muttered under his breath, "he managed to show off again."
Aside from a certain old bumblebee who transformed his grief and indignation into an appetite, the meal was naturally a delightful affair for both host and guests.
Even Sirius, the Diggorys, and the Weasleys—who had never met Grindelwald before and whose impression of the First Dark Lord was shaped entirely by The Daily Prophet—found their views shifted.
In their eyes, Grindelwald's image transformed from a ruthless Dark wizard into that of a kindly, friendly old grandfather next door.
At the very least, their legs no longer trembled with fear when speaking to him.
As the afternoon waned, a palpable sense of excitement spread over the campsite like a tangible cloud.
By dusk, even the quiet summer air seemed to quiver in anticipation.
As darkness settled like a curtain over the thousands of eagerly awaiting wizards, the final traces of concealment dissolved.
The Ministry of Magic seemed to bow to the inevitable, letting blatant signs of magic pop up everywhere.
Vendors appeared all over the campsite via Apparition, their presence visible everywhere.
Carrying trays and pushing carts loaded with all sorts of bizarre trinkets, they hawked their wares relentlessly to the passing crowd.
Ron, that poor old pauper, had eyes gleaming with excitement; he wanted to buy every single thing he saw.
Before long, his hands were piled high with completely useless souvenirs, the most conspicuous of which was a bright green, dancing shamrock hat.
Green was the representative color of Ireland, one of the teams in this Quidditch World Cup final.
And since Ron was a fan of the Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum, his souvenirs were all themed around the Bulgarian team.
Plunking the green hat onto his head with delight, Ron beamed with an excited smile and nagged his best mate, "Harry, check this hat out—pretty neat, right?"
Harry wore a smile that was awkward yet polite.
Because Cho Chang was of Chinese descent, Harry, acting as her devoted admirer, had spent plenty of time learning about the culture of that ancient Eastern nation.
He was naturally aware of what wearing a green hat signified in that country.
Should he actually break the news to poor Ron?
After giving it careful thought, Harry eventually abandoned the idea, deciding to let the poor foolish kid enjoy himself.
"Look at these!"
Spotting a pushcart stacked high with items resembling binoculars, Harry's eyes lit up, seizing the opportunity to get away from Ron, that self-satisfied fool in a green hat.
"Omnioculars," the wizard vendor pitched eagerly to Harry. "You can replay action, slow things down, and it'll flash a play-by-play breakdown of the match if you need it."
"I'll take one." Harry, the rich kid, started pulling out his money bag without even asking the price.
Seeing this, the vendor's smile grew even warmer. "Ten Galleons each."
Ron, who had just been showing off his green hat, instantly pulled a long, bitter face.
The Weasley family was doing well financially now.
Even Mrs. Weasley, who had originally planned to stay home, was willing to let Mr. Weasley buy an extra Quidditch World Cup ticket so the whole family could happily come watch the match together.
However, that didn't mean Ron's wallet was swelling at the same rate; his monthly allowance was only a few Sickles more than before.
It had taken him a long time to save up a dozen or so Galleons.
If he hadn't bought that hat, he would have had enough money for those Omnioculars right now.
"We'll take..." Kyle's voice sounded from the side. He glanced back at the massive crowd behind him—there were nearly twenty people. "Twenty of them."
He didn't bother counting.
The Weasleys didn't raise any objections to Kyle's generosity.
After all, the guy was absurdly wealthy.
Cedric went without saying; he had already consumed the Bloodline Fusion Potion provided by Kyle, which was worth thousands of Galleons. When you're up to your neck in debt, a little more doesn't hurt; he no longer cared about owing another small favor.
Beaming from ear to ear, the vendor distributed the Omnioculars to everyone behind Kyle, then took the bag of Galleons Kyle handed over.
Once they had their Omnioculars, the twins leaned in close to Kyle and pulled Cedric over as well.
After the four of them broke away from the group, Kyle could see the distinct shimmer of Galleons reflecting in George's and Fred's eyes.
"Do you guys want to make a quick fortune?" Fred asked mysteriously.
Kyle's interest was piqued instantly. "How so?"
Even though his family had more wealth than he could squander in a lifetime, who would ever say no to more Galleons?
George pulled a flyer out of his pocket and held it out in front of Kyle and Cedric.
The surrounding light was far too dim, so Kyle had to cast a Lumos just to read the font printed on the flyer.
Printed prominently in oversized lettering across the flyer was: London Crown Casino...
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