Raindrops pattered heavily on the leaves, trickling down the slender branches. The small trees swayed, as if echoing the rhythm.
A man gently stroked the tree's crown, and the corner of his lips curled into a satisfied yet icy smile.
His entire body was cloaked in a pitch-black raincoat, only a portion of his face was visible—his full appearance could not be seen clearly.
Surrounding him were countless towering trees, like silent giant sentinels—or a tightly sealed prison.
The man seemed to speak, but his words were inaudible. One could only see his lips moving. The only sound was the crackling of rain pounding against the puddle-filled ground, sending up ring after ring of ripples.
Suddenly, a tree root, thick as a python, slammed down onto the earth with a loud splat, sending water flying in all directions. The shock made one instinctively take a step back.
And in that moment—like the ground had suddenly vanished—an intense sensation of weightlessness struck.
Wade jolted awake.
He was lying in bed, and his heart was still pounding from the sensation of falling out of control.
It took him a few seconds to realize that the sound of rain hadn't just existed in his dream—it was still pattering in his ears.
A whole night had passed, and yet the rain hadn't stopped.
He reached out with his palm, and golden characters shimmered into the air, displaying the current time:
[07:05]
Seven in the morning. Kreacher should've prepared breakfast by now. Is the match over yet, and are Lupin and the others back?
Still mulling over these thoughts, Wade got up and dressed. His mind involuntarily replayed the strange dream he'd had just before waking.
A rainy night. Giant trees. A wizard in black robes.
Maybe it was just "daytime thoughts turning into nighttime dreams"?
Wade glanced absentmindedly at his desk and noticed that the book he'd been reading before bed—Quidditch World Cup Through History—was still lying open. The page displayed a simple black-and-white illustration, strikingly similar to the scene from his dream.
Beside it, in bold black letters, was the chapter title:
[The Attack of the Killer Forest]
…
"Young Master Wade is awake! Kreacher has already prepared breakfast!"
Kreacher greeted him eagerly and, once Wade reached the table, he even pulled out a chair for him.
Wade looked at the long, empty table and asked, "They aren't back yet?"
"Master, young master Harry, and Mr. Lupin haven't come back yet, because the match still isn't over," Kreacher replied. "Kreacher already sent breakfast to them. Young Master Wade should eat now!"
Wade nodded and didn't ask further.
After breakfast, he stepped out of the tent and saw that the camp was still quiet. Only a few Ministry workers were patrolling, and some parents with young children were preparing breakfast.
Most kids hadn't stayed up through the night to watch the match. Their parents had likely taken them back to the tents early to rest. In truth, even aside from the game, camping out like this was fun in its own way.
The sky was still overcast, with a thick blanket of gray clouds hanging low. Fine threads of rain fell like a curtain of needles, creating bursts of pearl-like droplets on the ground.
Those children were wearing raincoats, laughing and splashing in the mud as they jumped around—like a bunch of snorting little piglets.
Wade stood outside for a while. Instead of returning to the tent to continue reading, he began walking toward the stadium.
—Not because he was curious about the outcome of the match; he already knew that Bulgaria's team was bound to win.
Wade just wanted to see how the players of both teams were holding up after playing through an entire night of rain. Were the spectators still as enthusiastic as before?
As he walked past tent after tent, he suddenly came to a halt in front of one made from stitched-together animal hides.
Remembering how paranoid he'd been the night before, Wade couldn't help but laugh at himself a little. On impulse, he walked over to check out the little tree that had startled him.
But the spot next to the tent was now completely empty.
Wade froze for a moment. He glanced at the brown-gray animal tail hanging by the entrance and the uniquely hand-sewn patterns. He confirmed—this was definitely the place he had passed the previous night.
He lowered his gaze and saw a small muddy pit beside the tent, which was now filled with rainwater and its surface was rippling in rings.
The scene was eerily similar to the one in his dream.
But who would be so bored as to pull up a tree in the middle of the campsite?
Wade looked around and saw the light smoke rising in the drizzle from scattered cooking fires, and felt a bit speechless.
—Maybe someone got up early to cook and couldn't be bothered to go to the forest for firewood, so they just took whatever was nearby?
Though in theory, trees like that shouldn't be good for burning, magic had a way of making the impossible happen.
Wade took one last glance at the bluish-gray forest not far away, then turned and headed toward the stadium.
At the entrance, the staff checking tickets leaned sleepily against the wall. Without a close inspection, they just waved him through.
He climbed the stairs and pushed open the box door, and found two adults looking completely drained—only Harry still seemed full of energy.
"You're just in time, Wade," Harry said excitedly. "The visibility's gotten better—I think they'll catch the Snitch and end the match really soon!"
—Really? Because to me, they look like they're about to drop dead.
Wade glanced at the athletes, whose faces were pale and bluish. He asked, "You've been watching the match all night? Didn't sleep at all?"
"What? Of course not!"
Harry replied without hesitation, with eyes glued to his binoculars, focusing intently on the two Seekers—especially Bulgaria's Viktor Krum.
The 18-year-old player had demonstrated phenomenal flying skills and a tenacity that was borderline frightening. Even though he hadn't caught the Snitch yet, he had already become Harry's idol.
"What about you, Wade?" Sirius yawned and asked, "Did you sleep well last night?"
"Pretty good. Slept straight through till morning—and even had a weird dream about a Killer Forest," Wade replied casually.
"A Killer Forest?" Harry, still busy but intrigued, tilted his head slightly to listen. "What's that?"
"That was the most infamous Quidditch World Cup match in history."
Surprisingly, Sirius knew all about it. He perked up a bit and eagerly started sharing with Harry:
"About two hundred years ago—I think it was the finals between Romania and New Spain—there was this hot-tempered Romanian player. He had conflicts with his teammates, the referee, and even the opposing team. When it became clear his team was going to lose, he outright colluded with a Dark wizard and cursed the entire forest," Sirius said.
Lupin also knew the story and added, "According to the records, the trees in the forest suddenly came to life and surged toward the stadium, trampling everything in their path. Countless people were injured or killed. That player who cast the curse wasn't spared either—he was killed by a vicious spruce."
Harry stared blankly for a while, imagining the horrifying scene of giant trees charging into the crowd in a massacre, and momentarily forgot about the match.
He muttered, "...And you guys just call that 'hot-tempered'?"
Wade asked curiously, "What kind of spell did he use? It must've been incredibly powerful."
"Who knows?" Sirius shrugged. "A curse that dangerous was probably declared forbidden immediately. The Ministry of Magic would've sealed off all related materials, just to prevent any fool from trying to imitate it."
—Right. Probably sealed, not destroyed.
That thought crossed Wade's mind instinctively.
By the 19th century, large-scale witch hunts had ended, with only occasional persecution remaining in remote areas.
Still, the Ministry would've preserved the spell—just in case another large-scale war broke out and wizards found themselves at a severe disadvantage. In that case, forests around the world could become the wizarding world's "soldiers."
The only problem is… these "soldiers" don't seem to distinguish between friend and foe—they might take out wizards too.
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