72. Small Skip.

Third year passed without anything extraordinary happening—just a few small dates in Hogsmeade with Hermione and the other girls. With no escaped Sirius Black or rogue Dementors, the year was relatively uneventful.

Sirius remained as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus continued teaching History of Magic, and even Slughorn stayed on as Potions Master.

---

Over a year later – Quidditch World Cup.

"10,000 Galleons on Ireland to win against Bulgaria, but Krum catches the Snitch. Final score: 170-160," I declared, placing my bet at the Goblin Betting Tent.

The goblin in charge quickly ran the calculations and smirked, thinking he had an easy payday. "Odds are 1:25."

After signing the contract, I pocketed my copy. The betting tent was run by Gringotts, ensuring legitimacy—no risk of getting scammed. They accepted bets on almost everything, even offering loans to desperate gamblers.

Of course, woe be to those who couldn't pay their debts. Cough, Bagman, cough.

As for losing? I wasn't worried. I already knew the outcome from the story.

Exiting the tent, I rejoined my group—Yue, Rachel, Serenity, Hermione, Harry, Sirius, and Remus.

Luna, as expected, was off in Sweden with her father, still chasing Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

"You know you shouldn't be gambling," Hermione scolded, arms crossed as she eyed me suspiciously.

I smirked, tucking away the contract. "It was just a couple Galleons."

If she knew I had just wagered nearly £50,000 in gold, she would have lost her mind. Not that I was ever short on money—transmuting gold bars from scrap metal ensured that.

"Eh, let the kid throw around some pocket money. Even I bet 100 Galleons on Bulgaria winning!" Sirius grinned.

Poor sucker.

"Let's find our seats before it gets too crowded," Remus suggested, wisely steering the conversation away.

Remus looked far healthier these days, with well-fitted clothes and a fuller frame. Having a stable job and a rent-free home for most of the year certainly helped.

I idly wondered what changes would happen tonight. No Barty Crouch Jr. No Lucius Malfoy. Would there still be a Death Eater riot?

We made our way to the Top Box, courtesy of the Ministry. They were still compensating Sirius for his wrongful imprisonment without a trial.

None of us were particularly obsessed with Quidditch, but Harry invited us, and seeing as he was one of my only true male friends, I couldn't refuse. Plus, the opportunity to make some money and maybe toast a few Death Eaters was tempting.

---

Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were also in the Top Box, along with the Weasley family. Surprisingly, Draco had never developed a serious rivalry with Harry. Perhaps it was due to not being snubbed constantly, or maybe the loss of his father and godfather had forced some early maturity. He was still a pompous brat but slightly more tolerable.

"Oi, mate! You made it!" Ron greeted Harry enthusiastically, then glanced at me. "Thought you were gonna be late—the game's about to start! Can you believe we get to see Viktor Krum?"

"Talk about celebrity crushes," Yue teased.

"W-what? No!" Ron sputtered.

He never won verbal battles against Yue, Rachel, or me. I came from an era of Xbox lobbies—I could roast him so hard Molly wouldn't recognize him.

Yue had a special talent for poking at people until they exploded.

Ignoring the teasing, I turned to the twins. "Gred, Forge, how's business?"

"Booming!"

"We've just finished a few new products…"

"Guaranteed to be all the rage at Hogwarts!"

After investing in their shop, I provided some ideas—some stolen from their own future success and others just for fun. My personal favorite was an enchanted banana peel that always slid directly under someone's foot.

The twins, discovering that Sirius and Remus were Marauders, had escalated their pranking game to an art form. The castle had never seen such chaos.

We chatted until the mascots appeared—leprechauns for Ireland and Veela for Bulgaria.

The Veela began their hypnotic dance, instantly ensnaring most of the male audience. Ron's jaw went slack, his ears turning bright red. Even Harry looked a little dazed, though he had the sense to glance away occasionally.

Sirius nudged Remus. "Still as susceptible as ever?"

Remus snorted. "Unlike some, I have self-control."

I rolled my eyes. "You lot act like you've never seen a pretty woman before."

Rachel huffed in amusement. "To be fair, they haven't seen Veela before."

Hermione, unimpressed, crossed her arms. "It's ridiculous how easily they affect people. If they weren't using magic, they wouldn't be half as mesmerizing."

Yue chuckled. "Magic or not, they do have a certain appeal."

They looked like supermodels—tall, blonde, curvy.

Serenity, as expected, remained completely unaffected, watching with mild disinterest.

The Veela's performance ended, and the leprechauns took over, showering the crowd with golden coins. Naturally, Ron scrambled to grab as many as he could, nearly toppling a small child in his enthusiasm.

"Ron, those aren't real gold!" Hermione scolded.

Fred and George examined a few, then laughed. "Brilliant! Vanish after a few hours!"

"We need to figure out how to replicate this," Fred mused. "Imagine vanishing underwear!"

"Or backpacks for pranks!" George added.

Before long, the match began. The Irish team played with seamless coordination, while Bulgaria relied heavily on Krum's raw talent.

Despite not being a Quidditch fanatic, I could appreciate the skill on display. The sheer speed and precision of the players were impressive.

"He's going for it!" someone shouted.

Krum dove, accelerating toward the Snitch near the Irish goalpost. The Irish Seeker was on his tail, but Krum was too fast, too experienced. He caught the Snitch in a breathtaking display of skill.

Final score: 170-160.

I smirked. "Well, that's a nice payout."

Sirius groaned, slumping back. "Merlin's beard, I should've bet on Ireland instead."

Rachel glanced at me. "So, how much did you win?"

"Around 250,000 Galleons."

Hermione choked. "How much did you bet?!"

Everyone stared in shock.

"Just 10,000 Galleons."

"10,000 Galleons?! Do you know how much that is?! How do you even have that kind of money?!"

I waved off her concerns. "Relax, Hermione. It's just pocket change."

Harry chuckled. "It's his money, and he won, didn't he?"

I leaned back, grinning. "Besides, a little extra cash never hurts."

Hermione muttered about irresponsible men while I scanned the crowd, watching the celebrations.

"Time to go get my winnings."