Hogwarts: Don't call me Wandmaker

Chapter 318 Chaos
Siren has never experienced such a spectacular celebration.

A campfire was lit in the middle of the camp, but the flames displayed the gold and green colors that represent the Irish team.

Moreover, if someone were to fly overhead at this time, they would notice that the flames maintained the shape of a clover.

Countless Irish fans surrounded the crowd, singing joyfully. Some even accompanied them with traditional Irish hand drums, dozens of people playing together, the booming sound carrying far and wide.

About an hour later, the celebrating fans still showed no signs of stopping; they seemed to be planning a night of revelry.

However, Professor McGonagall and his friends did not plan to stay that late. They were just taking a break from their busy schedules to celebrate with other fans, and it was impossible for them to stay all night.

So when the Ministry of Magic officials first came to persuade the fans to stop celebrating their victory, the group took the opportunity to leave the camp.

“That’s wonderful. If it weren’t for that incident, I would have loved to continue celebrating with them until dawn.” Professor Flitwick’s face was flushed, as if he were drunk.

In fact, he did drink some. There were fans everywhere in the camp carrying whiskey, and they would generously invite anyone they saw to have a drink. Professor Flitwick drank with them quite often.

According to him, this celebratory whisky has a special flavor that can't be tasted at other times.

However, Professor Flitwick knew he had other things to do later, so he didn't drink excessively. He only appeared flushed; he was still quite sober.

They were now back at the campsite by the pitch with Siron, where Mr. Weasley and Lupin were already waiting.

Mr. Weasley had to stay in the tent to look after the children, while Lupin was worried about Harry's safety.

They breathed a sigh of relief when they saw Xilun and his group return.

"Some hot chocolate, please." Mr. Weasley poured everyone a cup of hot chocolate.

"How's it going there?" he asked. "Has the activity not stopped yet?"

"It's still early, it'll probably last until dawn," Professor Flitwick said. "But the Ministry of Magic people have already gone there, I wonder if they can get the fans to quiet down."

“That’s really difficult.” Mr. Weasley seemed somewhat relieved and said in a low voice, “Luckily I’m not on duty and don’t have to tell them to stop partying, otherwise it would be unimaginable.”

"Are the children all asleep?" Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes, they’re all asleep,” Mr. Weasley said, yawning as he did so.

It was clear that he was very tired, but he was just forcing himself to stay awake.

Professor McGonagall decided not to continue the conversation, finished her hot cocoa, and stood up.

"Are you going to take care of... well, that matter?" Mr. Weasley asked.

“That’s right.” Professor McGonagall nodded. “We have to get everything sorted out before the start of the semester; time is a bit tight.”

She glanced at the time again.

"So Arthur, we..."

boom!
A deafening explosion interrupted her.

In an instant, Professor McGonagall's expression turned serious, and Mr. Weasley's drowsiness vanished as he abruptly stood up.

"That explosion just now, what happened?!" Lupin instinctively pulled out his wand. "Could it be Irish fans...?"

“No, it shouldn’t be.” Professor McGonagall also took out her wand. Besides the explosion, she also sensed something unusual.

The sounds in the camp changed; the singing gradually stopped, replaced by increasingly clear screams and the frantic running of people.

“I’ll go check on them, Arthur. Go and wake the children,” Professor McGonagall said, standing up. Mr. Weasley, realizing what was happening, quickly went outside and ran towards his tent.

To avoid disturbing others' sleep, they had been chatting in Xilun's tent. Fortunately, the two tents were next to each other.

Xilun ran out after them.

As soon as he stepped out of the tent, he saw everyone running into the woods.

Professor McGonagall's expression grew increasingly grim as she noticed a group of wizards huddled together in the distance, slowly moving across the field.

At the same time, all these wizards pointed their wands upwards, and various spells spread and bombarded outwards from them, like a mobile artillery platform.

The explosion just now was caused by them.

These wizards all share a common characteristic: they all wear hoods and masks, making it impossible to see their specific appearance.

Above the group, four struggling figures floated in the air, like manipulated puppets, twisted into all sorts of bizarre shapes.

The firelight illuminated them; they were Mr. Roberts, the campmaster, and his family, the only Muggles in the vicinity of the camp.

“Death Eaters…” Professor McGonagall said, her voice icy.

This outfit was all too familiar to her; it reminded her of what they were like over a decade ago, when they were the most terrifying nightmare in the magical world.

But things are different now. With Voldemort's downfall, these rats in the gutter have all gone into hiding and haven't been seen for a long time.

To her surprise, she encountered those damned dark wizards again at this Quidditch World Cup...

What angered her even more was that these guys were still in the same habit as before, taking pleasure in tormenting Muggles.

“Pomona, you stay and protect the children,” Professor McGonagall said.

Before she could make a move, an even faster figure rushed out first... it was Professor Flitwick.

Perhaps because he had just drunk too much Irish whiskey, Professor Flitwick seemed much more active than usual.

He entered the arena and raised his wand high.

A sudden gust of wind blew in, stirring up countless dust and pebbles, which surged straight into the ranks of Death Eaters.

The sandstorm obscured everyone's vision and interrupted the magic controlling the Roberts family, causing the four Muggles to fall from mid-air simultaneously.

Professor McGonagall then stretched out her hand and waved it forcefully.

Tent fragments, firewood, and hats on the ground all floated up and formed a long staircase in mid-air. The Roberts family landed on it, and the staircase began to move, carrying them into the distant woods.

At this point, many Death Eaters were still unaware of what had happened.

Behind Professor McGonagall, Siron silently raised an eyebrow.

He knew that leaving Professor McGonagall and the others behind was the right choice; in this situation, the professors were far more efficient than the dawdling Ministry of Magic strikers.

Just like now, in the blink of an eye, they successfully rescued the Roberts family, their movements as practiced as if they had rehearsed beforehand.

……

(End of this chapter)