The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Chapter 183 Each of Our Own Opponents (Subscribe now!)

After seeing Lilith off, Moriarty closed the classroom door, flipped his wrist, and the cedarwood wand popped out of the wand set and landed in his hand.

Moriarty conjured a mahogany square table and pointed his wand at the parchment on the ground, saying, "Yugardim, Leviosa!"

Paper documents rose into the air, arranged in a neat row, and floated around to each person.

"The lives, hobbies, achievements, careers, and even the fighting skills and preferred techniques of the 11 national team players are all here."

Moriarty's tone left no room for doubt as he addressed the group: "We need to spend five days training and getting used to each other, so we only have two days to memorize this information."

Perhaps the national team treated this match as a training game, and the British wizards treated it as a warm-up match...

Speaking of this, Moriarty scoffed inwardly. Ludo was a hypocrite, deceiving his superiors and subordinates, and used this match to create a good stir and make a fortune.

Moriarty will make Ludo pay back his debts with interest at next year's World Cup.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes, and Moriarty continued, "But our only goal is victory!"

Jericho and his companions' eyes burned with fervor, the occasional glints of light containing a fanatical intensity.

Moriarty looked at each of them and said encouragingly, "It doesn't matter what the outside world thinks of us. They may think we are a bunch of students or a bunch of kids."

Actually?

We are the heirs of Slytherin, the pure-bloods of Hogwarts, and the future generation of the finest wizards!

"Yes, that's right, sir, oh ho!"

Jericho and the other snakes exchanged a glance and then burst into a grotesque laugh.

Charlie disliked their gazes, but they were teammates now, and he had to admit that Jericho and Leon were quite reliable teammates.

Tonks listened intently to Moriarty's words, and she turned her hair gray, as if that would bring her closer to Moriarty.

Moriarty walked to the table and tapped it lightly. The crisp, rhythmic sound calmed the excited little snake.

He smiled slightly: "I know we'll fight side by side, so? Upsetting the national team is more in line with our status."

"Yeah~"

The players clapped their hands and stood up excitedly, waving their fists.

"Yes, sir, you've touched on our hearts!"

"We're going to utterly crush the national team! I can't wait to see Roman and his crew's faces swollen, haha~"

Moriarty nodded and exchanged a passionate glance with them. As if they knew what to do, they sat down and picked up the documents to read them carefully.

The classroom quieted down, broken only by the occasional rustling of pages turning. The parchment was covered in black writing, some of which was in foreign languages—records of national team players playing abroad.

This caused Jericho and Marcus considerable trouble, as their foreign language skills were terrible, but fortunately, the documents contained magical photographs.

They saw the national team players' flying skills and ball skills from the animated images.

Jericho's eyes flashed as he secretly memorized those movements.

Of the six, Moriarty and Tonks read very quickly, finishing a page in a minute.

After reading each page, they wrote incessantly in their prepared notebooks with shorthand quills, jotting down line after line of text.

Two hours later, Moriarty stood up, clapped his hands, and attracted everyone's attention.

"Alright, let's summarize the information we've gathered."

He spread out the notebook beside him and used magic to project the words and pictures on it onto the ceiling.

"Roman, a 24-year-old Londoner and a graduate of Durmstrang, is a member of the British national team."

He became a professional player at the age of 17, joined the British team Caffiley Flying Cross, and led the team to win the English Confederation Cup three times in a row.

He joined the national team at the age of 20, playing as a finder. In the 1986 World Cup—the last World Cup—he helped England reach the semi-finals with four wins out of five matches.

Moriarty curled his lips into a slightly sarcastic smile and added, "A prime example of someone who achieved fame at a young age."

Jericho and the others nodded slightly, not frightened; they knew Moriarty had more to say.

"Whether in cup competitions or the four victories in the World Cup, Roman caught the Golden Snitch for no more than two hours on average."

After facing the USA in the semi-finals, England's attack was worn down by the Americans. The match lasted six hours, and Roman couldn't catch the Golden Snitch until the very end.

Moriarty glanced at his teammates, who looked thoughtful, and finally concluded: "A typical player who thrives in a fast-paced game! He's good at playing fast-paced games and can excel in winning situations, but he can't step up and turn the tide in losing situations."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Judging from their positions, Roman was Moriarty's opponent, and it seemed that Moriarty already had a plan.

"It's worth mentioning," Moriarty said, waving his notebook and giving Jericho a playful look, "that the one who eliminated Roman in the semifinals was none other than the captain of the American team, Maxi Branch III."

Leon and the others looked at Jericho, who nodded and readily admitted, "Maxi is my older brother; he's my uncle's son. He'll be leading the US team in the World Cup again next year."

"With a director father and a captain brother, the Blanche family has practically monopolized the American sports industry, hasn't it?" Leon said sourly.

"Yeah, aren't you envious?" Jericho grinned slyly. "If you can't make it at the British Ministry of Magic, you can come work for me as a servant. 100 Galleons a month for it!"

Leon snorted: "I don't believe you for a second. Director James is known for his integrity in North America. He doesn't even spend 100 Galleons a year. How could his son dare to spend money so extravagantly?"

Okay, I've got it. The first thing I'll do after graduating and starting work at the Ministry of Magic is report your father for corruption to the International Wizarding Association!

"Haha." Charlie laughed, just about to say something, when he heard Tonks slam his laptop on the table with a "bang," which startled Charlie.

"Stop talking about irrelevant things," Tonks glared at the boys. "Listen up, my opponent is this guy with the afro!"

Tonks distributed the information to everyone, and when he saw the photo of the guy with the afro, Jericho burst out laughing: "Black guy, afro, tall, he should go into hip-hop."

When it was Charlie's turn, he looked at Moriarty expectantly: "Sir, please be very careful in choosing a spouse, and be sure to consider my advice!"

"Afro, Yorkshire, England, 26 years old!" Tonks shouted, drowning out Charlie's voice. "Also a Durmstrang graduate, he's Roman's senior. They've been teammates for seven years and have great chemistry. His position is chaser."

He currently plays for Cafeli Flying Nuggets alongside Roman and was selected for the national team at the age of 21.

Throughout his career, he played a total of 1306 matches over 8 years, scoring a total of 3384 goals, with 0 fouls. He was a formidable opponent!

However, he was fouled a staggering 1047 times, averaging one foul per game.

Moriarty nodded. Tonks had switched from Seeker to Chaser, requiring a change in her playing style and mindset. And her opponent was a clean-cut gentleman, which was good news for her.

Tonks sat down, and Jericho stood up. "Let me tell you about my opponent. I won't say his name, you can just look at it. I'll call him The Magician!"

"Oh, wait, wait," Jericho saw Tonks put his hand on the notebook and, worried that Tonks might throw it at his face, quickly raised his hand to block it, saying rapidly, "There's a reason I call him the Magician, he is a magician!"

"Calm down, Jericho, I'm not interested in doing anything to you," Tonks calmly opened her notebook, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just turning to a new page in my notes."

Jericho coughed awkwardly, and Charlie continued to urge Moriarty frantically: "Sir, be careful..."

Charlie sensed a murderous aura and wisely chose to remain silent. It turned out that Tonks had narrowed his eyes and placed his hand on the notebook.

Moriarty smiled, walked behind Tonks, put his hand on her shoulder, and patted her.

"Let's hear what Jericho has to say. I saw his report while reviewing the briefing; he seems to be a bit older?"

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(End of this chapter)