Chapter 452: Divergence

Fred and George expressed their strong dissatisfaction with Kyle's "preferential treatment," insisting that they were old enough to try the aged Firewhiskey. Kyle, however, continued to ignore them.

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when Bill lay sprawled on the floor, fast asleep, that the twins went quiet. They exchanged a look, shrugged, and nonchalantly resumed sipping their juice. They'd watched Bill go from drinking to nodding off, and then simply sink to the floor as if he'd come over just to take a nap on Kyle's carpet. The whole process had been remarkably seamless, without even a pause, as if Bill had choreographed it.

Charlie, meanwhile, was handling his drink just fine. As a dragon keeper, he was no stranger to strong spirits and had more experience pacing himself.

He took a cautious sip of his Firewhiskey and glanced over at Bill. "Does he think he's drinking ale?" he scoffed, amused at his brother's lack of restraint.

Much like Fred and George never missed a chance to poke fun at Percy, Charlie and Bill had a similar sibling tradition. The difference was that Bill was generally sharper and could hold his own, always finding a way to retaliate. But right now, he was out cold, leaving Charlie to enjoy a small victory and a second sip of Firewhiskey.

Kyle brought out more candy and snacks, which included an assortment of treats he'd received as gifts. Everyone began snacking and chatting idly.

At first, the conversation was lighthearted. Charlie shared tales from the Romanian dragon reserve, like the time a few reckless wizards tried to steal a dragon egg, only to be chased off by a roaring mother dragon, leaving them so terrified they'd begged the dragon keepers for help. He also mentioned the excitement whenever a dragon laid a new clutch of eggs. These weren't the kinds of stories found in textbooks, and Kyle and the others listened, captivated.

In exchange, Kyle shared some of his own Hogwarts stories. Charlie was fascinated by his account of Professor Trelawney's dramatic predictions in third year, the Basilisk incident, and the time Dementors had stormed the Quidditch Pitch in his fourth year. It was hard for him to believe all that had actually happened.

"When I was at school, Hogwarts was never this exciting," Charlie laughed, shaking his head.

Charlie was especially intrigued by the Basilisk. As a dragon keeper, he shared Hagrid's passion for dangerous, large Magical Creatures and had become increasingly interested in anything as formidable as a Basilisk.

"I'd love to see a Basilisk one day," he said wistfully.

Fred and George quickly waved their hands to dissuade him. The Basilisk was a deadly creature that could kill with a single look. When they'd first heard Ron was involved in the incident, they'd been so shaken they'd nearly collapsed with worry—thankfully, it had turned out to be a false alarm. They didn't think curiosity was worth risking one's life.

Fortunately, Charlie was only speaking in general terms. After all, you couldn't just decide to go and see a Basilisk.

Charlie put down his cup, stuffed a large piece of buttered toffee into his mouth, and shifted to another topic.

"Kyle, I heard from Fred that your Hufflepuffs have won the Quidditch Cup four years in a row?"

"Oh, it's all just luck! We only won because everyone else was being nice—it's really not worth mentioning, really," Kyle replied, modestly waving his hands.

Fred and George looked slightly agitated, their jaws clenching. If Kyle hadn't been grinning so obviously, they might have actually believed him.

Charlie glanced at them, puzzled. "Didn't you say Harry got a Firebolt? And you still lost?"

Fred and George took a resentful sip of their juice, looking resolute.

"We'll definitely win next year!" Fred said firmly.

"You Hufflepuffs won't win five years in a row!" George added.

"Well, you'll have to work hard, then, because it's going to be very difficult to take the Cup from us next year," Kyle replied with a mischievous smile, raising an eyebrow.

Charlie opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but then held back and changed the subject instead.

"Kyle, who do you think will win the World Cup this year?"

"Ireland, of course," Kyle said without hesitation.

"No," Charlie shook his head. "I think it'll be Bulgaria. They've got their lineup complete this year with Viktor Krum, and they'll definitely be a top contender."

"Ha, only a Seeker would root for Bulgaria," Kyle shot back, playfully. "Quidditch is a seven-player sport. A talented Seeker is important, but the Chasers are the real core of the team."

"Oh?" Charlie sat up straighter. "Why do you say that?"

"It's simple. Everyone's focused on Bulgaria adding Krum, but no one's noticed that they replaced one of their veteran Chasers. The reason they gave in The Daily Quidditch was that he was too old to work well with Krum. Ridiculous! A Chaser just needs to score points—he doesn't need to be perfectly in sync with the Seeker. Can't he just toss a Quaffle over to Krum?"

Kyle snorted. "Believe it or not, they're going to end up with their faces in the mud this tournament, unless Krum manages to catch the Snitch before they fall 150 points behind. Only then will Bulgaria stand a chance."

Fred and George nodded in agreement. They shared Kyle's perspective, especially after their own match against Hufflepuff. They now understood all too well the importance of Chasers scoring consistently. If the score gap becomes too wide, even the best Seeker can't save the game. At best, the Seeker can only delay the inevitable—but without enough scoring strength, it's useless to prolong the game.

"No, I still believe Bulgaria will win," Charlie insisted. "Ivanova is a very skilled Chaser, and Dimitrov, though young, has already made a name for himself in international matches. He's as talented as Krum."

"You can't mean Dimitrov, the one Moran beat three times in a row during the qualifiers," Kyle said with a grin.

Charlie blushed slightly but still stood his ground, firmly insisting that the Bulgarian team would come out on top.

But with a one-against-three disadvantage in the room, it was hard to keep up the debate. Eventually, Charlie hoisted Bill—who was still sound asleep—over his shoulder and prepared to head back to The Burrow. Bill's long ponytail trailed on the floor, helping to sweep up a few crumbs on the way out.

"That poor Seeker," Fred chuckled once Charlie had left. He and George exchanged victorious high fives, grinning.

They had chosen not to return with Charlie—mostly because Percy was home on a day off and had been holed up in his room all morning, writing a report on leaking cauldrons and forbidding any noise. They'd barely been up a few hours and had already been scolded several times. It was much quieter here.