On the day of the Quidditch World Cup, Charlie was invited to Malfoy Manor.
The manor gates slowly opened, and Lucius Malfoy stood at the entrance, wearing a well-tailored green suit with his silver snake-headed cane resting by his side.
Narcissa wore a well-cut beige dress, her golden hair swept back, looking elegant and dignified.
Draco had also exchanged his usual robes for a grey suit, his hair combed meticulously.
To avoid being discovered by Muggles, the organizers of the Quidditch World Cup required spectators to wear Muggle attire to watch the match.
"Mr. White, welcome." Lucius smiled and extended his hand.
Charlie shook it.
"Mr. Malfoy."
"Just call me Lucius." Lucius stepped aside.
"Please, come in."
Narcissa also nodded with a smile.
Draco, unable to contain his excitement, leaned over to Charlie.
"Charlie! You're finally here, I've been waiting for ages. The Quidditch World Cup! Ireland versus Bulgaria, which team are you supporting?"
"Draco." Narcissa reminded him softly.
"Don't be too excited."
Draco coughed, trying to appear composed, but the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable.
Lucius glanced at his pocket watch.
"It's about time, we should get going."
He pulled a small golden object from his pocket and held it open in his palm.
It was an exquisite model of a Golden Snitch, its wings slightly spread, gleaming in the sunlight.
"This is a portkey; it can transport us quickly to the designated location," Lucius explained to Charlie.
Charlie nodded.
"Just reach out and touch the portkey."
The four of them formed a circle and reached out to touch the Golden Snitch simultaneously.
Charlie felt a tugging sensation behind his navel, and the scenery around him began to spin and blur.
A few seconds later, his feet touched solid ground.
It was a swampy area with humid air and soft soil.
In the distance, countless tents were pitched, with flags of various colors fluttering in the wind.
Standing in front of Charlie were two Wizards wearing crumpled suits, ties askew, hair disheveled, and deep dark circles under their eyes.
One of the Wizards saw Lucius and immediately forced a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy!"
"Good morning, Basil." Lucius replied coolly.
Basil rubbed his hands together, his manner fawning.
"Your seats are in the first row of the first section, the best view! I can take you there!"
"That would be appreciated." Lucius nodded.
Basil turned immediately to lead the way, walking quickly.
Lucius turned to Charlie with a gentle smile on his face.
"Mr. White, please forgive my presumption in arranging your seat with ours. It has the best view."
"You're too kind, Mr. Malfoy," Charlie said. "Thank you very much for the seats."
Walking ahead, Basil turned around sharply, his eyes wide.
He looked Charlie up and down, his mind racing.
Who is this? To make the Malfoy Family so courteous.
Could he also be from a noble Pure-blood Family? But is there a White surname among the Pure-blood Families?
Basil tried hard to recall all the surnames in the "Pure-blood Directory," but he couldn't remember that one.
Perhaps it's a Pure-blood Family from another country.
He asked cautiously: "May I ask... who is this?"
Lucius glanced at him.
"Mr. White is my honored guest."
Basil immediately shut his mouth, not daring to ask anything more.
It was better for him not to pry into the affairs of someone Lucius Malfoy would call an "honored guest."
After walking for twenty minutes, the view suddenly opened up.
A simple stone house appeared ahead, and behind it were tents stretching across the hills, packed densely together.
After bringing Charlie and the others there, Basil went back to continue directing newly arrived people.
A middle-aged man stood at the door of the stone house, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, his hair thinning, with a professional smile on his face.
Seeing people approaching, he immediately came forward.
"Good morning! Welcome to the Secret Forest Campsite!" the man said enthusiastically.
"I'm Roberts, the caretaker of this campsite. Do you have a reserved spot?"
Lucius's expression turned cold instantly, a trace of disgust flashing in his eyes.
He paused for a moment before speaking reluctantly: "Malfoy."
Roberts lowered his head to check the registration book in his hands.
Draco leaned over to Charlie, lowering his voice: "He's a Muggle."
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
A Muggle? How could a Wizarding event allow a Muggle to be involved in management?
Draco noticed Charlie's confusion and continued to explain in a whisper:
"The World Cup organizers chose this campsite, but it's managed by this Muggle, so we have to rent a plot of land from him to set up our tents."
"Aren't you worried he'll discover something unusual?"
"Someone will cast a spell on him."
Charlie nodded.
No wonder Lucius looked so disdainful; Pure-blood Families had always looked down on Muggles.
Roberts asked while flipping through the registration book:
"Are you holding some kind of event? I see so many people coming to rent sites. Honestly, I've never had business this good."
Lucius ignored him, but he didn't seem to mind.
A moment later, he looked up, his smile even brighter.
"Found it! Mr. Malfoy, your spot is by the woods over there, a very nice piece of land. Will you be paying now?"
Lucius, with an expressionless face, pulled a gold coin from his pocket and tossed it directly onto the table.
The Galleon shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
Roberts was stunned. Is this how extravagant they are? Paying for a campsite with gold?
At this moment, a dark shadow descended from the sky.
A Wizard in a black uniform landed in front of Roberts with swift movements.
Without a word, he flicked his wand: "Obliviate!"
Roberts's eyes instantly became vacant, his mouth slightly agape, and the Galleon in his hand dropped to the ground.
The black-robed Wizard bent down to pick up the Galleon, pulled a few pounds from his pocket, and stuffed them into Roberts's hand. Then he patted Roberts on the shoulder.
"You've already received the payment, right?"
Roberts nodded blankly.
"Yes, I've received the payment."
The black-robed Wizard turned to Lucius with a smile:
"Mr. Malfoy, sorry for the interruption. These Muggles always have little issues. This way, please."
Charlie frowned, watching the spell-bound Roberts.
Most Wizards could not hide the arrogance rooted in their bones toward other beings.
The Ministry of Magic could certainly have chosen another location for the World Cup, but it wasn't necessary; a Muggle caretaker couldn't pose a threat to Wizards anyway, and if anything unusual was noticed, they could just erase his memory.
But that had nothing to do with Charlie, so he followed the others forward.
The black-robed Wizard complained incessantly while leading the way.
"I've already cast Memory Charm on that Muggle a dozen times today; my wand is about to start smoking."
"What's even more ridiculous is Ludo Bagman; that idiot is running around everywhere, shouting about the Quidditch World Cup, as if he's afraid the Muggles won't hear."
Draco whispered: "Who is Bagman?"
"Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Lucius said coolly.
The black-robed Wizard sneered: "I really don't know how he became a Department Head. Probably because he used to play Quidditch and has a few friends in the Wizengamot."
Narcissa gave a light cough, signaling him to watch his language.
The black-robed Wizard realized then and quickly shut his mouth. He sped up, leading them to a tent.
"We've arrived at your spot, Mr. Malfoy," he said respectfully.
"If you need anything, just let me know."
Lucius nodded, and the man left immediately.
Lucius raised his hand to indicate the tent entrance.
"Mr. White, please come in."
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