Three minutes later, the news of England's clean sheet against Bulgaria reverberated throughout Hypro.
Five minutes later, wails echoed from the underground exchange in the gambling rings. The gambling war between the Foley and Flint families went completely mad!
Ten minutes later, all the major wizarding newspapers released explosive headlines: the British team had clean-sheeted the Bulgarian team.
The Daily Prophet: "British Team Breaks into the Semi-Finals – Moriarty Outshines Viktor Krum!"
The Quibbler: "Secrets of the World Cup Uncovered! The Real Reason Moriarty Won – Krum's Hidden Weakness?"
Witch Weekly: "Forever Shining Rush Rush Series: Moriarty Obliterates Bulgaria!"
Think: "Back-to-Back Clean Sheets! Who Can Stop Moriarty Now?"
Even the traditionally anti-British Paris Times had to acknowledge Moriarty's brilliance—albeit begrudgingly, and the headline was still laced with sarcasm.
The article quickly shifted from belittling the Bulgarian team to bizarrely praising the French team. It claimed France's early match against Britain helped every other team "learn how to deal with high-speed brooms," calling it a "valuable sacrifice" and "pioneering contribution!"
Wizards reading the article immediately recognized it as a thinly veiled attempt at downplaying Britain's victory. One by one, they crumpled the paper and tossed it away.
Even French fans were outraged. Mr. Delacour, patriarch of the Delacour family, publicly stated he would cancel his subscription to the Paris Times.
"If Paris Times continues with this biased reporting, The Idea will soon surpass it," he declared.
In summary, the British team stormed into the semi-finals with back-to-back clean sheets. Through two dominating matches, Moriarty established himself as a prodigy—a true Quidditch tactician and powerhouse.
Two weeks later, the second semi-final match began. Moriarty, along with the starting lineup, arrived to watch the game.
The stands were bursting with excited spectators. Moriarty scanned the stands for a place to sit when a soft but clear voice called out to him.
"Mr. Moriarty? Up here~!"
He looked up. Fleur Delacour was waving at him from the upper stands, her eyes twinkling with a mix of confidence and charm.
"I saved you seats!" she said, loudly enough to draw attention. The nearby wizards turned to look at her, and Fleur blushed under the sudden spotlight.
Her nervous charm ability flared uncontrollably, an automatic defense of her Veela bloodline. Her allure affected nearly every male wizard within earshot—except Moriarty, who remained completely unaffected, as always.
This was both confusing and disheartening for Fleur.
Over the last two weeks, she had buried herself in research, reading up on the Final Four teams, trying to discover weaknesses to share with Moriarty.
Her motivations were simple—she wanted to help him win.
Moriarty led the team up to the upper stands. Fleur gestured to a row of empty seats. "Poland and Peru are evenly matched, so either one could be Britain's next opponent. I figured you'd come to watch, so I reserved seats—seven in total. Please, sit."
Roman and the others looked to Moriarty for approval. With a nod from him, they sat down, laughing, pulling out omnioculars to get a better view.
Fleur leaned toward Moriarty. She pulled a small silver pouch from her jean pocket—she was wearing tight, pale blue jeans that subtly emphasized her long legs.
She expanded the pouch with a wandless Undetectable Extension Charm, and from within she pulled out a violet-covered notebook.
"This is for you. It's all the latest scouting info on the remaining teams," Fleur said, emphasizing the word latest with pride.
Moriarty raised an eyebrow and flipped through the pages, curiosity lighting his usually stoic expression.
"And what are your conclusions?" he asked.
Fleur smiled, tilted her head, and traced circles on the floor with her foot playfully. "Some top-secret intel—like Maxi from Team USA. He's currently in talks with Nimbus Corp about purchasing seven Nimbus 1990S."
Moriarty's tone sharpened. "How do you know that?"
"Easy," Fleur said cheerfully. "I posed as a fangirl, went to the US team's training grounds, got autographs, flirted a little—then, during casual chat, the players spilled the beans."
"I see," Moriarty said slowly, a glint of unease darkening his eyes.
Fleur didn't notice his shifting demeanor. "I even got a signed team photo!"
But Moriarty's thoughts had spiraled. He realized Fleur was using her Veela charm to gather information—seducing opponents, even unintentionally.
He remembered Fleur's self-conscious expressions, how she'd said she wanted to help. But this... this wasn't help. It was espionage cloaked in affection.
Fleur, sensing something wrong, looked up hesitantly.
"Moriarty?" she asked softly. "Are you... are you angry with me?"
She bit her lip. Her heart thudded with dread. Was she just a shallow beauty in Moriarty's eyes? A tool?
Before either could say more, the whistle blew. The Poland vs. Peru match had begun, drawing cheers from the audience.
Moriarty gently pulled Fleur by the arm, leading her to her seat. They sat and watched silently.
Throughout the game, Fleur remained distracted, confused, and emotionally scattered. She barely registered the final whistle.
Only when Moriarty stood and addressed his team did she jolt upright.
"Back to the conference room," he said to Roman and the others. "I have a feeling Poland is going to be our next opponent."
"What?" Fleur gasped. "Poland won?"
Moriarty didn't reply. He strode away.
Roman glanced back at Fleur several times, feeling conflicted. She had helped, and they should thank her. But Moriarty's grim expression told them to hold their tongues.
"Honestly," Roman whispered to the spiky-haired Beater, "If the captain allowed it, Miss Fleur would make a perfect wife."
"Are you daft?" the Beater rolled his eyes. "Don't forget Tonks from the Hogwarts Dream Team. We're not touching that mess."
The British team disappeared into the distance. Fleur watched Moriarty's back vanish, two silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
Back in the strategy room, Moriarty and his team began breaking down Poland's tactics. Over the course of the week, each player developed countermeasures.
With careful planning, they were confident they could beat Poland.
But something still felt off to Moriarty.
Maxi had mentioned that a Deathly Hallows symbol was seen during Poland's match with Canada. Moriarty had brushed it off at the time. But now...
He flipped through Fleur's notebook absentmindedly—until a photo slipped out and caught his attention.
It was a magically animated photo of a man laughing loudly in a bar, surrounded by women. He wore Polish Quidditch robes.
Moriarty squinted and identified him: Gabriel, the Polish Chaser.
His robes had slipped off his shoulder, revealing a pendant hanging from his neck.
It was unmistakable: a triangle enclosing a circle, with a vertical line through the center.
The Deathly Hallows symbol.
Moriarty's eyes narrowed. So that was it.
It wasn't that the Saints had infiltrated Poland.
Poland's players were Saints.
The implications hit him like a Bludger to the chest.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Roman Reigns and the others barged in, pale-faced and shaken.
Moriarty looked at them grimly. "You all look like you saw a Lethifold. What happened?"
"Captain…" Roman's voice quivered. "Team USA… lost!"
Moriarty's expression turned icy. "Where's Maxi? Who caught the Snitch?"
Roman shook his head. "Maxi… The Snitch was caught by the Japanese team. By that Seeker… Tezukamura."
Moriarty's glare deepened.
"They had Nimbus 1990S!" Roman burst out. "Seven of them! They should've wiped the floor with Dongying, but instead—they got destroyed!"
Moriarty shot out of his seat and marched toward the exit. Red Nose followed, breathless, explaining the carnage.
"In the third semi-final match, the Japanese team shocked everyone with a massive upset over the Americans!
Final score: 300 to 60. A total crushing.
Even with their Nimbus 1990S brooms, Team USA was routed. It was as if the Japanese team knew their every move.
Their star player—the Magician—scored 24 goals by himself!
And the Snitch? Caught by Seeker Kogoro Tezukamura.
Maxi fell off his broom during the last chase and is now in a coma…"
Red Nose fell silent.
Moriarty came to a dead stop.
His words came out like a curse.
"Dong. Ying. Team!"