The information Hermione brought was indeed quite valuable.
Especially Harry Potter's godfather—he was certainly someone worth looking into...
"The key point is to find out exactly what happened during the time Potter disappeared."
"What key point?"
Astoria had just stepped out of the tent when she heard the low murmur beside her.
Turning her head, she saw Draco Malfoy, who had also just come out, standing in the sunlight.
She had to admit, with his pale blond hair and refined bearing, he was the most flawless boy she had ever seen. At least among their peers, Astoria couldn't think of anyone who could match him.
Handsome looks, strong talent, and a status most wizards could only envy.
But what truly made hearts race was that occasional, gentle warmth he showed.
It was no wonder so many girls at Hogwarts liked him.
Even that know-it-all from Gryffindor had started approaching him on her own.
Still... what exactly was their relationship?
If she remembered correctly, that Weasley girl had been standing outside alone last night, shivering in the cold for quite a while...
Just as Astoria was wondering what might have happened, Draco stretched slightly and said, "The timing's perfect. If you're ready, we should head out."
"Huh? Just the two of us?"
It sounded as though she meant to ask about his parents, but her gaze drifted unmistakably toward Draco's tent.
The meaning behind that look was easy to understand.
"Don't bother looking. There's no one inside, and it's not what you think."
"I... I wasn't thinking anything!"
"I didn't say you were."
"..."
Astoria's expression froze. Then, perhaps because he'd hit the mark—or maybe just from embarrassment—she shot Draco an indignant glare, cheeks slightly red.
Was that really something you could say so casually to a girl?
And to think she'd just been admiring how perfect he was... clearly something was wrong with her.
...
As Draco led Astoria through the other camps, he noticed many scenes he hadn't caught the night before.
Along the way, adult wizards occasionally emerged from their tents and began preparing breakfast in the open areas outside. It seemed that tents enchanted with the Undetectable Extension Charm were actually quite rare—most were as small and cramped as they looked from the outside.
A few wizards stood nearby, eyeing the matches in their hands with open suspicion, as if doubting that such Muggle tools could truly start a fire. It made one wonder whether those matches had been left behind by the Muggles who'd used the tents before.
Further along, three African wizards sat together, deep in conversation. They wore long white robes covered in intricate patterns Draco couldn't quite decipher.
Nearby, a group of middle-aged American wizards were gathered around their tent, above which hung a large banner that gleamed brightly even under the sun. The words "Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" were emblazoned across it in bold letters.
Wizards from all over the world had gathered here, each group carrying the colors and style of their homeland. And despite all those differences, there was one thing they shared—every face reflected the same excitement and anticipation.
Because today was the Quidditch World Cup.
...
After making their way through the various camps, Draco and Astoria could finally see the crowds streaming in from all directions, converging toward the massive stadium ahead.
That was their destination—the place where today's Quidditch World Cup champion would be decided.
Green and red.
The colors of the Irish and Bulgarian national teams, and the dominant hues of the entire stadium.
Player photos were displayed along the outer walls, capturing moments from past matches—wizards frozen mid-flight with their brooms and Quaffles.
Draco and Astoria stopped before one of these giant images, apparently of the team's star player.
Still half-asleep and not particularly interested in Quidditch, Astoria blurted out without thinking, "If it weren't for the setting, I'd swear this was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. And honestly, that so-called star doesn't fly nearly as gracefully as you do, Draco."
"...Ahem. We should get going."
Astoria had no idea how her comment had angered the nearby wizards. Draco quickly stepped forward, blocking their view of her, and subtly drew his wand from under his robes, warning off the few who looked ready to start trouble.
If not for that and his clearly noble air, they might not have gotten away so easily.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."
Realizing what she'd done, Astoria stuck out her tongue in a small, embarrassed gesture before clasping her hands together and giving Draco a playful wink. Only then did she seem to remember where they were—and how dangerous it was to offend Quidditch fans. Even in the wizarding world, there was no one more troublesome to provoke.
Draco brushed the dust off his robe and glanced at her, thinking that this girl might be a bit lacking in common sense—or maybe just... scatterbrained. Especially right after waking up.
"Anyway, let's head inside. Mother and the others should already be there."
"Hmm... but shouldn't we bring something to eat? I heard professional matches last all day. It probably won't end until evening, right?"
"No need."
"Wait for me!"
Draco, realizing that staying any longer would mean drowning in more of her questions, sighed and walked off toward the stadium entrance.
Astoria, still wondering if she could somehow order food during the match, hurried after him.
At that same moment, a pair of eyes followed the two of them from afar before slowly shifting away.
Draco suddenly turned, sensing something—but all he caught was a glimpse of a black-robed figure disappearing into the crowd.