Quidditch World Cup Begins

The morning sky was painted in hues of orange and gold as Ezekiel Cassian Malverne arrived at the Quidditch World Cup stadium with the England National Team.

Even with all his experiences in professional Quidditch, the sight of the massive enchanted stadium took his breath away. Towering stands stretched hundreds of feet into the air, with hundreds of thousands of witches and wizards filling the seats. Floating banners of various national teams flapped in the wind, their colors shimmering under the bright sun.

"Bloody hell," Roger Davies muttered beside him, his blue eyes wide in awe. "I knew it would be big, but this is insane."

Ezekiel smirked. "Welcome to the real stage."

As they walked toward the England team's private tent, Ezekiel could already feel the pressure. Reporters scrambled to take pictures, and whispers spread through the crowd.

"That's Ezekiel Malverne! The youngest player in England's history!"

"He's playing alongside Roger Davies—England's best Chaser duo!"

"They say Malverne's Quidditch IQ is insane—he sees plays before they even happen."

He ignored the attention, keeping his expression cool and composed. He was here to win, not to entertain the press.

Daphne, wearing a stylish black dress with emerald accents, stood near their private spectator box, waving. Beside her was Fleur Delacour, dressed elegantly in French colors, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight.

"Try not to show off too much, mon amour," Fleur teased as Ezekiel passed by.

"No promises," he smirked.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Just win, Ez. That's all that matters."

He gave her a nod before heading inside the England team's locker room.

---

Inside the England team's tent, Ezekiel went through his pre-match routine, stretching and checking his broom. The atmosphere was tense yet electrifying.

Just as he was about to finish adjusting his gloves, the flap of the tent was pushed open, and a group of players entered.

The Bulgarian National Team.

Leading them was none other than Viktor Krum—Bulgaria's star Seeker, already known worldwide for his unparalleled skill in catching the Snitch.

Krum's dark eyes scanned the room before landing on Ezekiel. His expression remained neutral, but there was an unmistakable spark of recognition.

"Malverne."

Ezekiel stood, meeting his gaze. "Krum."

For a moment, the room was silent. The two youngest prodigies in the Quidditch world were now standing face-to-face.

Krum finally spoke in his thick Bulgarian accent. "I have seen your games. You are good."

Ezekiel smirked. "You're not so bad yourself."

One of Bulgaria's Chasers scoffed. "England won't stand a chance. You may be a pro, Malverne, but this is the World Cup."

Roger stepped forward. "Guess we'll just have to see on the pitch, won't we?"

Krum simply nodded. "We will see."

With that, the Bulgarians left, leaving a thick air of tension behind them.

Roger let out a low whistle. "Well, that was intense. Think they're worried about us?"

Ezekiel chuckled. "They should be."

---

As the sun began to set, the World Cup's opening ceremony commenced. The stadium erupted in cheers as teams were introduced, each receiving thunderous applause from their home fans.

Ireland, France, Brazil, Japan, the USA, Bulgaria, and England—the world's top teams stood in formation, their flags flying high.

Fireworks exploded overhead, and Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge gave a grand speech, praising the international unity of the event.

"And now—let the Quidditch World Cup... BEGIN!"

The crowd roared.

Tomorrow, Ezekiel would take the skies.

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