Chapter 683: 683: The greater the crisis, the more people need entertainment

Diagon Alley.

Gringotts stood almost deserted, while not far away, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was bustling with activity.

"Come and support the Appleby Arrows!" George shouted at the top of his lungs, holding up a light blue Number Six Quidditch jersey with a silver arrow emblem on it.

"Appleby Arrows versus Ballycastle Bats!" Fred waved a black flag emblazoned with a red bat.

"Come support your team!"

The two of them had set up two stalls, one black and one blue.

Crowds surrounded them, and the jerseys on display disappeared one after another.

The lively scene made it almost impossible to imagine that the threat of the Acolytes still existed outside.

Eventually, the brothers simply handed the job of selling clothes over to graduates they had recruited from school.

Seamus was there too, and he was nearly being crushed into a pancake.

A heavyset wizard knocked him to the ground, nearly causing him to be trampled by the crowd.

"George, do you know what this feels like?" Fred asked as he accepted one Magic Card after another from the eager crowd and swiped them across the machine inlaid with purple crystal.

"Of course."

George held a card in each hand and swiped them one after another.

The two looked at each other, grinned, and said in unison,

"A goose that lays golden eggs."

The crowd showed no sign of thinning.

At another counter, Ron frantically handed out ticket after ticket.

"Merlin's Beard..."

He no longer had the energy to think about anything else.

All he could see were endless Magic Cards being thrust toward him, as though everyone were desperate to hand over their money.

One card even smacked him in the face.

He did not even have time to get angry before being stunned by the strings of numbers flashing before him.

Wizards who had bought tickets began passing through the portal.

On the other side stood the world-class Quidditch stadium at Silverhand Amusement Park, already filled with roaring cheers.

"Welcome to the Premier Wizard League! I'm today's guest commentator, Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"And I'm Ernie Macmillan."

A circular commentary booth had been built inside the Quidditch stadium, where the two of them were responsible for calling the match.

Influenced by Quidditch during his school years, Ernie Macmillan had chosen to become a Quidditch commentator after graduation.

Ludo Bagman, appearing as a special guest, would provide commentary while also hosting the match.

"First, let's look at the referee entering the pitch. He's the famous former Falmouth Falcons star Seeker, Russell Duru."

"You have no idea how sharp Russell Duru's eyesight is. He's got the eyes of a hawk. Back when I was still playing, we privately called him the Black Falcon. This old bastard's eyesight is so good that no little trick can escape him."

"Oh, come on, you old bastard! I'm complimenting you!"

The wizard responsible for projecting the players onto the giant screen obligingly switched the image to Russell Duru.

Russell Duru was visibly cursing under his breath, probably extending his regards to Bagman's entire family.

The two started shouting insults at each other from across the stadium until Ernie finally stopped Bagman from completely losing his temper.

"The teams are coming out! First onto the pitch are the Appleby Arrows. Their usual strategy revolves around a Seeker finishing tactic, and their Seeker, Rob Marshall, is their star player."

Ernie had done his homework thoroughly and accurately pointed out the team's greatest strength.

Rob Marshall shot onto the pitch on a Firebolt, waving one arm as he flew.

His entrance immediately drew waves of cheers, and the spectators on the left side of the stands spontaneously began a Mexican wave.

"The Ballycastle Bats are coming out now! Their captain is Joachim Rones, an agile Chaser and, so far, the highest-scoring Chaser in the league."

From the darkness on the other side, a swarm of bats flew out first.

Then the Ballycastle Bats followed in a wing-shaped formation.

Not to be outdone, their supporters also began a Mexican wave.

Wherever the Ballycastle Bats flew, the wave followed beneath them.

Bagman stopped trading insults with his old friend and picked up the commentary.

"Both teams are now ready. The Appleby Arrows currently rank third in league win rate, while their old rivals, Ballycastle, sit in fifth."

"This is going to be a hard-fought match. Most of our attention will probably be on the decapitation strategy."

"Mr. Bagman, what do you think are Rob Marshall's chances of catching the Golden Snitch?" Ernie asked humbly.

Bagman thought for a moment before saying, "The Appleby Arrows won their previous three matches using the decapitation strategy. If they can't catch the Golden Snitch before the beast that is Joachim Rones gets warmed up, I think they'll have a very difficult time winning."

"If the Ballycastle Bats don't win this match, they'll miss out on the final."

His words immediately drew furious abuse from the Appleby Arrows supporters.

And when the Ballycastle fans heard what they considered his "curse" against their team, they joined in as well.

Fortunately, Bagman's skin had long since grown thick enough.

After all, this was a man who had once dared to owe the Second King money.

Mente Metaxas stared open-mouthed at the atmosphere in the stadium, which felt almost like a World Cup.

Of course, the attendance had not reached the absurd level of one hundred thousand.

But for the sparsely populated wizarding world, a crowd approaching fifty thousand was already frightening enough.

Because this was not the World Cup.

This was merely one match in the Premier Wizard League.

It was not even the final.

Only now did Mente truly grasp the influence created by the three leagues.

No, there was also the pre-existing competition, the League Cup.

That was the competition of the British and Irish Quidditch League. Unlike the three-tier league system, it had no division restrictions and allowed teams from different levels to face one another.

Even so, seeing wizards driven this wild still shocked Mente Metaxas, the head of the Quidditch Committee.

He held a Ballycastle Bats jersey in his hands.

A single shirt was not expensive, but once multiplied across the number sold during a match, merchandise alone could bring in nearly several thousand Galleons.

That might not sound like much to someone at John's level, but one must not forget that even a Minister for Magic only earned a few thousand Galleons a year.

And that was only the clothing.

Add in everything else, and the figure could easily double.

This was not selling merchandise.

It was practically picking money up off the ground.

And that was before accounting for the increased number of matches, the greater influence, and the rise in endorsement fees.

For example, during this match, advertisements constantly flashed across the giant screens and along the edges of the pitch.

Silverhand Fashion Architecture, Silverhand Cellars, Silver...

Wait.

Why were there so many Silverhand brands?

Mente nearly forgot who the richest man in the country was.

He sucked in a breath.

If this model spread across the wizarding world, the status of the Quidditch Committee would rise dramatically.

This was not trouble at all.

This was the God of Wealth knocking on his door.

His son, Karon, was cheering while wearing the Appleby Arrows Seeker jersey.

The Appleby Arrows had just scored.

"Would you like some Butterbeer?"

A pretty girl carrying a box covered in Butterbeer advertisements on her back asked Mente.

"What is this?"

"Butterbeer." The girl's eyes lit up as she held out a cup. "Would you like one?"

"Give me a cup."

"Of course."

The girl aimed the wand-shaped nozzle on the container behind her at the cup.

Foamy Butterbeer immediately filled it.

"Amazing."

Mente could not help praising it.

He took a sip, and the taste was excellent.

He also saw people walking around selling all kinds of snacks.

Anyone who wanted something only needed to call them over.

It was fantastic.

"I could stay here all day."

Mente laughed and threw himself into the atmosphere.

The result was that he supported the Ballycastle Bats and nearly ended up fighting with his own son.

In the end, the Appleby Arrows won the match by a narrow margin of ten points.

The decapitation strategy succeeded once again.

After leaving the stadium, Mente could not wait to find John.

"Father, this place is amazing!"

Karon was still reluctant to leave.

Mente laughed. "In the future, the whole world will be able to enjoy an atmosphere like this!"

He sent Karon home first, then hurried straight to the Ministry of Magic.

John was already waiting there.

Two cups of coffee sat in front of him.

Mente assumed one was for him, picked it up, and gulped it down.

John hesitated before saying, "Minister Roland left that one behind just now."

Mente froze.

Looking at the empty cup, he immediately pictured Roland's old face.

"Tell me what you thought."

John snapped his fingers, and the cup refilled with coffee.

He had already drunk it anyway.

The moment the subject came up, Mente became excited.

"Can it really be done like that? I mean, all over the world?"

"Of course." John smiled faintly. "You saw the portal."

"Yes. I saw it. It felt like a dream."

Mente's heart raced.

John was not surprised.

After all, this was a reform that could change the wizarding world.

"The greater the crisis, the more people need entertainment." John lifted his coffee and took a sip. "Did you see fear on their faces?"

Mente thought back carefully.

He realised that none of those people had seemed afraid or worried about the Acolytes at all.

Even he had briefly forgotten about them.

"That's the appeal of competition. When people need it most, it lifts their spirits and keeps them from falling toward the Acolytes."

John shrugged.

"There's another Premier Wizard League match in a few days. You can watch that one before deciding."

"No need. I've already decided," Mente said. "I support your plan, Lord Wick."

He had already been won over.

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