When the Quidditch World Cup was first held, the International Statute of Secrecy had not yet been established. Though tensions between wizards and Muggles were beginning to rise, things had not yet escalated into outright hostility.
As a result, it was not uncommon for Muggles to accidentally stumble upon a Quidditch match and catch sight of wizards flying on broomsticks high in the sky, fiercely battling for control of the game.
When these Muggles returned home and told others about what they had seen, they were usually dismissed as dreamers or confused.
However, sometimes they left behind strange and wondrous tales among the Muggles.
Today, after several centuries of development, Quidditch has evolved into a sport governed by a complex set of rules and procedures. The planning for this match actually began about a year ago.
In the preliminary stage, each game is limited to a maximum of four hours. If no one catches the Golden Snitch by then, the winner is determined based on the score.
The semifinals are far more flexible, just like the finals—they continue until the Snitch is caught. In the past, some matches have dragged on for three to five days, so a three-day break is scheduled between games.
On the second day after Wade arrived, Hermione and the Patil twins came to the stadium. Hermione was staying in the room next to Harry's, and that evening, they all went down to a nearby creek to catch fish.
On the third day, Neville and his grandmother also arrived. This time, they were prepared to camp and brought an old-fashioned magical tent that smelled of pine resin. Wade and the others helped set it up.
Next was the match between Bulgaria and Egypt.
These two teams were not so lucky. It started raining in the evening, and by the time the match began at night, it had turned into a torrential downpour. Not even the brightest magical lights could compensate for the appalling visibility.
One of the regulations of the Quidditch World Cup is that weather-modifying spells are not allowed during matches.
People believe that weather is part of the challenge. Unless under extreme circumstances—like a volcanic eruption or hurricane—players must fight for victory even in harsh conditions.
The spectators in the stands could at least use transparent magical shields to block out the rain, but the two unfortunate teams had to wear goggles and brave the storm head-on.
In this kind of weather, just two seconds in the rain was enough to soak a person to the bone, even getting water in their mouth. Fortunately, the rules hadn't banned them from casting waterproofing and moisture-repelling charms on their goggles—but those didn't help much either.
Sheets of rain blurred the view. A shadow zipped by with a "whoosh," and not far away, two figures collided midair—it was impossible to tell which team they belonged to.
Harry squinted hard, trying to make out what was happening in the match. But Wade only had the patience to watch for about ten minutes before sitting down and opening a book.
His collection had long surpassed what he had copied from the school library. He now had countless high-quality magical books from the likes of Black, Wovilette, Grindelwald, Flamel, and others. No matter which book he opened, Wade was always engrossed.
Lupin leaned over and gently patted Wade's shoulder.
"If you're not interested in the match, I can go back to the tent with you," Lupin said softly. "It's a bit quieter over there."
He had long noticed that Wade wasn't particularly interested in Quidditch. What fascinated him more were the spectators, the atmosphere, and the chaos and charm of the camp before the match—not the game itself.
Wade thought it over, then closed his book. "I'll go back myself. You all can keep watching—I'm not a little kid, and I know my way."
"Alright then," Lupin said with a smile, not insisting. "Be careful on the way, and get some rest when you get back."
"Okay."
Wade pushed open the door at the back of the viewing box and began descending along a lantern-lit path. Occasionally, he passed by boxes from which excited, annoyed, or argumentative voices could be heard.
Aside from a few people who left the box seats to use the bathroom, the spectators did not abandon the stands because of the bad weather. The passageway was empty—at this moment, only Wade was walking back.
After all, torrential rain usually doesn't last very long. It might stop after a few dozen minutes, and the audience would still be able to enjoy the exciting match.
Wade walked to the lowest level exit, then raised his wand. The tip of the wand released a barrier resembling an umbrella, shielding him from the downpour.
The campsite was filled with tents—some as tall as buildings, some shaped like small hills, and others like overturned goblets planted in the ground. At night, they all appeared as dark, indistinct silhouettes, like countless silent monsters standing guard in the darkness.
Wade subconsciously softened his footsteps, said nothing, and quietly made his way through the maze of tents.
Suddenly, something flickered in his peripheral vision—it looked like a thin, bony child hiding behind a tent, waving at him.
Wade's scalp instantly went numb. His breath caught in his throat, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and it felt as if a cold wind swept past his back—or like a snake of ice was slithering up his spine.
After a few seconds, he slowly exhaled and inhaled, forcing himself to remain calm, then walked toward the direction of the shadow.
Of course, he could have turned around and headed straight back to his room. But Wade felt that if he didn't figure out what that strange, small shadow was, he wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully tonight.
From the outside, Wade merely paused for a moment before continuing as though unaffected.
As he drew closer, he flipped his empty palm and silently cast a wandless Lumos spell. A glowing orb floated above his hand, illuminating the area a few meters around him.
The shadow behind the tent was finally revealed—it was just a small tree, likely a young beech. Its sparse leaves and height didn't even reach Wade's chest.
Wade let out a long breath and chuckled at himself, realizing he was getting jumpy over nothing.
He stepped around the tent, which had a patchwork hide exterior and even a beast's tail hanging by the entrance, and quickened his pace on the way back.
The "splash, splash" of footsteps in puddles gradually faded, and the surroundings returned to silence, broken only by the unending sound of falling rain.
Suddenly, from the darkness, there was a soft "pop"—like a large cork being pulled from a bottle.
The young beech tree pulled its roots out of the soil, shook itself like a person stretching, then tugged its other roots free. It gave its entire body a powerful shake and its leaves unfurled as if welcoming the rare rainy weather.
Then, using its roots as feet, it began walking toward the forest not far away, scuttling sideways like a crab—light on its feet yet swift. The leaves above its head rustled like a child waving.
In the direction it was headed, a figure in a black raincoat stood under a tree, looking up at a tall spruce tree ahead.
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