"Clunk... Click... clunk..."
The strange knocking sound was so loud it disturbed even his dreams. It felt like someone was pounding his head with a hammer.
Wade suddenly jolted awake and glanced at the time—it had been less than two hours since he'd fallen asleep.
He wondered if he had a nightmare again, but then he actually heard the "clunk" sound again—very faint, completely different from the deafening sensation in his dream.
Wade could recognize that unique sound—the tapping of a wooden prosthetic leg on the floor.
Moody is here.
Given the major incident at the Quidditch World Cup campsite, it was only natural for the Greys to reach out to wizards they knew for information.
Feeling reassured, Wade lay back down on the bed. But as soon as he closed his eyes for two seconds, he sat up again.
I almost forgot—this year, Moody may not really be Moody. I have to be cautious whenever I meet him.
Wade threw on his robe, climbed out of bed, and went to the window. He saw Moody limping into the yard, while his parents stood at the door welcoming him.
He studied his neighbor carefully, and after confirming it was indeed the real Moody, he finally relaxed and went back to bed—but he couldn't fall asleep again.
Maybe his nerves, which had just tensed up so suddenly, couldn't unwind right away.
Although Moody had long retired, he knew many Aurors and had fought alongside quite a few. Even though some now considered him eccentric, no one could deny that he had always been the best Auror.
There were still many Moody admirers within the Ministry of Magic. Ron's father, Arthur Weasley, had always spoken very highly of him.
So if Moody wanted to inquire about the news, chances were good that those people wouldn't withhold much from him.
Wade snapped his fingers. After a moment, the door creaked open just slightly, and a small magic doll slipped in and climbed onto Wade's pillow.
"What does Master want?" Ari asked, looking up.
Wade placed the little magic doll in his palm and whispered, "Go eavesdrop on what Mr. Moody and my parents are talking about. Come back and report to me."
"Understood," Ari nodded. She leapt down silently and slipped out through the crack in the door.
Wade rubbed his forehead. He'd used Flame God twice in a short span and still hadn't gotten proper rest. Now even standing felt like the world was swaying.
He took out a calming potion and downed it in one go. As soon as he lay down, he sank quickly into a deep, fully relaxed sleep.
...
Ari gently closed the door behind her, then slid down the stair railing to the first floor. The Greys were just ushering Moody inside as the little doll hopped onto the table and eagerly helped serve tea.
Dobby was busy in the kitchen, and the house was filled with the aroma of beef pie.
"Look, last night's events already made it into The Daily Prophet. These reporters are faster than Golden Snitches," said Fred, holding a freshly delivered newspaper and unfolding it to show Moody.
Fiona leaned in beside him, looked at the text and black-and-white images on the newspaper, and almost instinctively read out the content:
"Dark Magic Attack at the Quidditch World Cup — Unexpected Involvement of Alliance… The Ministry of Magic confirms this was a premeditated Dark Magic curse… At least 17 dead, over 200 injured… A horrifying and vicious incident…"
"At the time of the attack, the Ministry was caught off guard and did virtually nothing… Regarding the Forest Curse incident, it's confirmed that the Ministry's intelligence network had no prior warning and failed to take any effective measures when it occurred…"
"Ministry spokeswoman Madam Umbridge stated that the attack is still under investigation, and the possibility of certain Dark Wizards staging the whole thing themselves has not been ruled out… The criminals remain at large… The Dark Wizards are still free… The Ministry's handling of the situation is deeply disappointing… A disgrace to the nation…"
"The cursed mascots cannot be restored in the short term… Bulgaria and Ireland have filed compensation claims against the British Ministry of Magic… Minister Fudge has stated he will not abandon pursuing responsibility from both parties… During the dispute, a brawl broke out…"
At that, Moody let out a cold laugh. Fred sighed helplessly and put down the newspaper.
"What? I haven't finished reading yet!"
Fiona picked up the paper and sat down to continue reading.
She soon discovered that the second half of the article was entirely about assigning blame—debating who should be held most accountable for the incident. One photo showed Fudge with a bloody nose, while a short, toad-like witch beside him was frantically hopping around, trying to wipe the blood from his face.
Perhaps the photo version of her was bolder than the real thing. Fiona saw the fat witch suddenly leapt onto Fudge and pressed a handkerchief to his nose to stop the bleeding.
She couldn't help but let out a chuckle—but then quickly frowned. What about the follow-up investigation? What is the Ministry going to do? Even if they can't catch the culprits, what precautions are being taken? Are there any public warnings?
But that was the end of the article.
Fiona flipped the page and was immediately greeted by a photo of Krum catching the Golden Snitch — the rest of the page covered Quidditch match highlights.
She flipped further—Quidditch, more Quidditch, Quidditch stars, broomstick advertisements…
Dobby snapped his fingers, and breakfast appeared on the table. He then busied himself cleaning up the kitchen.
Moody and Fred, seemingly expecting this kind of "reporting," paid no further attention.
"This was an unusual case. The Ministry was caught completely off guard," Moody said, pulling a battered flask from his coat and taking a swig. "But if you're expecting them to learn from this and do better next time—don't count on it."
Fred spoke in a low voice, "I just hope they don't release the Dementors again."
"They won't. Fudge is too busy trying to cover his own backside. He wants people to forget this incident as soon as possible," Moody sneered. "But unfortunately for him, those jackal-like reporters aren't going to let this go so easily."
"What do you think caused this incident?" Fred asked. "Was it really orchestrated by Grindelwald's followers to show off their strength?"
"Much as I hate those bastards, the papers are talking nonsense."
Moody stabbed a knife into a meat pie and said, "If Grindelwald had staged this himself, there wouldn't be a second attack. He'd have sent the cursed forest straight into the stadium, caused mass casualties, then appeared in dramatic fashion as a 'savior.' He wouldn't have let the enchanted trees be taken out quietly outside the stadium."
"But…" Fred frowned, "They got advance notice and didn't warn the Ministry. They acted on their own… Grindelwald can't possibly be some selfless saint, can he?"
"Of course not."
Moody chuckled at that, and his facial scars twisted with the motion.
"You saw that magic too, Fred. That terrifying spell—it didn't come from Grindelwald. It came from the young man standing beside him."
Moody's face darkened as he recalled the scene he'd witnessed through the Streaming mirror. He took another sip of Firewhisky with a grim expression on his face.
"In fact, I heard a theory before… a rumor…"
"They say Grindelwald has chosen an heir…"
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