Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 310 This Quidditch World Cup final is sponsored by XY Potions!

Dylan tucked the ordinary locket into his coat pocket, his fingers still able to feel the cool texture of the metal casing.

He followed Dumbledore onto the small boat.

Dumbledore gripped the oar and slowly rowed. The oar glided across the lake, splashing water droplets that landed on the dark surface and disappeared instantly.

The two remained silent the whole way and soon returned to the shore.

Moody was leaning against a rock, his cane diagonally stuck in the ground.

He was still pressing his other hand on the previously injured area, and his complexion was better than before.

Seeing the two return, after Old Deng explained, Moody straightened up and said in a gruff voice, "So all this trouble we've gone through, dealing with the Infernals and administering potions, and in the end we still don't even have a sure thing about whether the Horcruxes are destroyed or not?"

His tone was full of resentment, clearly indicating his dissatisfaction with this fruitless trip.

Dumbledore walked over to him, patted him on the shoulder, and said calmly but methodically, "The trail isn't broken, Alastor."

“We split into three groups. I went to the Burke family to investigate, as their family has always had ties to the Death Eater circle.”

“Go to the Bursts; you’ll know them better.”

“As for Dylan,” he turned to Dylan, “you’re still young, go ask Sirius about the Black family.”

“All three families had members who joined the Death Eaters more than a decade ago. If we investigate carefully, we will definitely be able to find clues about who took the Horcrux.”

Dylan nodded, thinking to himself that the locket was now right in his hand.

Perhaps this will allow me to both complete the system achievement and naturally reconnect with Sirius.

Dumbledore's allocation was exactly what he wanted.

Who is RAB, the author of the letter left in the locket?
There's no need to think about it further.

But there's no need to mention these things to Old Deng.

Who knows, he might even be able to summon Slytherin back this time?

Dylan couldn't help but find the thought of Slytherin and Ravenclaw meeting amusing.

After the mission was finalized, Dumbledore finally snapped his fingers.

A bright orange flame suddenly ignited on the shore, but the temperature was not scorching.

Phoenix Fox spread its wings, a tapestry of gold and red, and slowly flew out of the fire, its tail feathers still shimmering.

Dumbledore grabbed Fawkes' tail feathers first, followed closely by Moody. However, Moody grabbed too quickly and lost control of his strength, tearing off a fiery red feather with a sudden tug.

The moment the feather touched the ground, it turned into tiny sparks and dissipated into the air.

Fox called out.

next moment.

Using Apparition, the three people and the phoenix appeared in the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade.

The bar was dimly lit, with a faint aroma of malt liquor in the air.

Dumbledore looked down at Fawkes, gently stroked its feathers, and said in a soothing tone, "Alright, little guy, are you hurt?"

Fox's eyes were glistening with tears, as if he had been wronged, and he glared at someone, making Moody feel somewhat uncomfortable.

He scratched his head, his voice lower than before: "Um, Albus... I didn't mean to, I just didn't hold on properly when I was using Apparition, and I accidentally used too much force."

Just saying.

Fox flapped its wings and flew behind the bar.

Just then, a burly man appeared from the corner; it was none other than Aberforth Dumbledore.

He was wiping a ceramic cup in his hand, his brow furrowed so deeply it could trap a fly.

Fox landed steadily on his shoulder, rolled his eyes at Dumbledore and Moody, and then disappeared in a flash of fire.

"What are you doing here?" Aberforth slammed his ceramic cup on the bar and glared at Dumbledore, clearly displeased with his brother's sudden visit.

Dumbledore smiled calmly and pointed to Dylan beside him: "Dylan said that your cooking must be very good, and he insists that I bring him here for dinner."

As soon as these words came out.

Dylan's eyes widened suddenly.

hello?

Old Deng, what nonsense are you talking about?

He never said that!

Turning to look at Moody, he found that the other man, like himself, had his mouth slightly open and looked puzzled.

The same thought popped into their minds at the same time.

"How can someone be so unreasonable and lie without batting an eye?"

But no one said it aloud; they just silently swallowed it back down.

Aberforth clearly didn't believe it either, but he didn't say anything more and turned to go into the kitchen.

Not long after, he came out carrying three ceramic plates and placed them heavily on the table.

The food in the earthenware plate looked dark and had a strange sheen on its surface, resembling burnt bread mixed with unknown wild vegetables; it looked terrible.

Moody stared at the plate, his eyes wide open, his knife and fork frozen in mid-air.

That look seemed to ask, "Is this really edible?"

"Heh, take it or leave it!" Aberforth glanced at him, his tone sarcastic, probably not wanting to see Dumbledore's face anymore, and turned back to the kitchen.

Dumbledore picked up his fork, took a piece, and put it in his mouth first, deliberately making a satisfied expression: "It tastes very good, Alastor, you'll know once you try it. And Dylan, you can try it too. Didn't you always say that the food here must be delicious?"

Dylan grimaced, then picked up a fork and took a bite.

Despite its unappealing appearance, it was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a subtle herbal aroma, making it taste much better than it looked.

Moody took a bite with some skepticism, and his eyes lit up instantly.

He had been feeling weak all over due to blood loss.

After eating a few bites of hot food, my stomach felt warm and cozy, the weakness gradually subsided, and my limbs regained their strength.

In no time, he finished all the food on his plate.

Halfway through the meal, Dumbledore put down his fork and looked at Moody: "Alastor, I have a suggestion—would you like to consider becoming a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts?" Moody paused for a moment, then pulled a small, palm-sized silver mirror from his pocket.

It was a viewing mirror, its surface spinning rapidly, emitting a faint white light, the patterns on its edges blurred by the rotation.

"You little rascal, you're up to no good!" Moody pointed at the spyglass, his tone wary. "I think you're trying to push me into a fire pit, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not."

Dumbledore waved his hand, his tone becoming much more sincere. "Your experience in dealing with dark wizards can't be taught in books—how to track, how to defend, how to counterattack in dire situations. How many detours could these save students? It would also train more combat-ready talents for the wizarding world, make the Auror ranks stronger, and better protect ordinary people... Isn't this what you've always wanted to do?"

"Recently, a demon king comparable to Voldemort has been making waves. Although he hasn't appeared for a while, he seems to have a lot of subordinates, and they are constantly gathering!"

"My students urgently need to grow up quickly! And, not to mention Voldemort, who could revert to his old ways at any moment, it's a dangerous situation."

He spoke clearly and logically, hitting every point that Moody was concerned about, and even his tone carried a convincing power.

Dylan sighed inwardly.

If Dumbledore's eloquence were in ancient times, he could probably persuade a stubborn monarch and directly change the country's policies.

If he were a debater, he would probably convince his opponent before the opponent even had a chance to speak.

Even when dealing with the most difficult people, he can explain the reasoning clearly, making them willingly nod in agreement.

Moody's expression gradually softened, clearly indicating that he had been persuaded.

He paused for a few seconds before speaking: "I need to finish what I'm doing first—I need to find out what's going on with the Burst family."

“I personally sent half of that family to Azkaban back then, so I know their background very well.”

"If we can find out about the Horcrux before the end of summer vacation, and confirm that it has either been destroyed or found to be hidden and completely disposed of, then I will report to Hogwarts."

Dylan's gaze fell on Moody's face, where every scar beneath the deep furrows seemed to tell a story of past battles.

A deep scar runs diagonally from his brow bone to his jaw on his left cheek, with a faint pink tinge at the edges.

It's clear that old wounds haven't healed before new ones have appeared.

There is a sunken scar on his right cheek, which makes half of his face look somewhat distorted, and even the corner of his eye droops slightly as a result.

Dylan sighed inwardly.

This is no ordinary former senior Auror; this is Alastor Mudi, whose bones are etched with countless life-and-death battles!
Every scar is a medal he earned in his fight against the dark wizard!
These days.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron have all invited Dylan to watch the Quidditch World Cup final more than once.

A few days ago, Hermione even went out of her way to find him with an invitation that had a golden snitch pattern on it.

Harry and Ron chimed in, saying that they would see Bulgaria's ace Seeker in the final.

However, he has other things to do, so it's not a good time to go to the competition.

At that moment, Dylan was having dinner and chatting with Dumbledore and Moody in a corner of the Hog's Head pub.

The Quidditch World Cup final has officially begun.

Meanwhile, in the top-floor VIP box of the stadium, Hermione and her group were sitting on soft chairs, while Sirius leaned against the railing, his gaze casually sweeping across the stands below.

Minister Fudge wore a dark blue robe of a magic minister, with an exquisite silver badge pinned to the collar.

He moved closer to Sirius Black, trying to strike up a conversation: "Mr. Black, look how nice the weather is today, no wind, perfect for a Quidditch match, isn't it?"

Sirius simply nodded, his gaze still fixed on the center of the arena, without any further expression.

Fudge was rebuffed, awkwardly touched his nose, and unconsciously tugged at the hem of his robe, his face looking rather unpleasant.

Just then, Lucius Malfoy walked over slowly.

He wore a spotless white silk robe with the Malfoy family crest embroidered on the cuffs, his hands in the robe's pockets, his posture elegant yet exuding a sense of aloofness.

He watched Sirius's retreating figure, then turned to Fudge, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm: "Minister, you don't need to be angry about this. I think this Mr. Black probably dislikes you from the bottom of his heart."

"After all, some people always think they are on a moral high ground and disdain to communicate with us 'ordinary people'."

"Well--"

Fudge let out a muffled groan, as if suppressing his anger, and his face darkened even more than before.

Just as the atmosphere in the private room was getting a little tense, Ludobagman, the Director of Sports and Physical Education at the Ministry of Magic, burst in.

He was wearing a bright red sports jacket, which was dusty, obviously from traveling. His blond hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to his forehead. He was also clutching a crumpled schedule in his hand.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm late!" He panted, his round face full of urgency, his gaze quickly sweeping over the people in the private room before finally landing on Fuji.

"Minister—everything is ready, may we begin now?"

Fudge took a deep breath, as if suppressing his earlier unpleasantness, and forced a kind smile onto his face. He waved his hand and said, "You decide, Ludo. Proceed as planned."

Ludo nodded immediately, drew his wand from his waist, pointed the tip at his throat, and clearly chanted the spell: "Loud Voice!"

The next second, his voice suddenly amplified several times, booming like thunder in the private room, even causing Hermione, who was sitting in the corner, to instinctively cover her ears.

The sound spread outwards from the opening of the VIP box, resounding throughout the packed stadium and echoing in every corner of the stands. The originally noisy stadium instantly fell silent, and everyone's eyes were focused on the direction of the top-floor VIP box.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ludo's voice was filled with barely concealed excitement. "Welcome to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"

"Today, the two teams that will engage in a showdown here are Bulgaria, the team from the eastern part of the magical world, with the strongest Seeker!"

"And our home team, the long-established powerhouse, the tactically brilliant Irish team!"

When Ludo shouted the names "Bulgaria" and "Ireland," the stands erupted in deafening cheers.

Bulgarian supporters raised red flags bearing the team's emblem and chanted in unison, "Bulgaria will win!"

Irish supporters waved green banners, and some sang traditional Irish folk songs. The cheerful tunes floated above the stadium, and various cheers and songs mingled together, creating a lively atmosphere.

Once the cheers from the audience subsided slightly, Ludo spoke again, his voice still loud and clear.

"This Quidditch World Cup final is sponsored by XY Potions, a rising potions company in the wizarding world!"

As Ludo finished speaking, the huge blackboard hanging in the center of the stadium suddenly lit up, displaying a clear image.

Inside a silver magic cauldron, a pale purple potion was slowly boiling, with round bubbles rising from the bottom of the pot and releasing a faint white glow when they burst open.

The background of the image features the logo of XY Potions Workshop, with a line of cursive text decorated with vines printed below it, which stands out prominently under the lights.

"XY Potions is dedicated to providing wizards with high-quality potion products that fit their daily lives! You can trust us!"

(End of this chapter)