Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Dumbledore's sudden question left Wentworth momentarily stunned. While he understood the rules of Quidditch, he'd never truly experienced it firsthand. His knowledge was limited to what he'd seen in the movies in his previous life. Thus, Wentworth couldn't help but pause in confusion.

Quickly regaining his composure, Wentworth responded:

"Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore, it's the Quidditch World Cup! A once-every-four-years event! But, uh, what does that have to do with me?"

Dumbledore looked deeply into Wentworth's eyes and said slowly:

"Wentworth, you're still a child. Young people should experience more of life and not let their future tie them down. Otherwise, you may regret missing out on so much later."

He then continued with a twinkle in his eye:

"Your punishment today is to accompany me to the Quidditch World Cup final! What do you say?"

Upon hearing this, Wentworth's first reaction wasn't joy but doubt. He wasn't overly interested in Quidditch, but he knew being invited to watch the World Cup by Dumbledore himself was akin to a pie falling from the sky.

However, as someone with the soul of an adult, his instinctive reaction to this pie was: Is it poisoned? Why would Dumbledore, with whom he had no familial ties, treat a regular student so kindly?

Could it be that Dumbledore had discovered his secret of being a transmigrator? That didn't seem logical!

Testing the waters, Wentworth cautiously asked:

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I'd love to go to the Quidditch World Cup, but isn't this a bit too lenient to be considered a punishment? Wouldn't that be inappropriate?"

Dumbledore, however, waved his hand dismissively and replied:

"Why wouldn't it be a punishment? You see, I'm over a hundred years old! Traveling such a long distance is quite exhausting. You'll be responsible for looking after me on the journey—that's your punishment!"

Dumbledore's reasoning sounded so earnest that Wentworth couldn't help but internally roll his eyes.

Seriously? A hundred-year-old man? This 'elderly' man is probably still the strongest wizard in the magical world!

But since Dumbledore had framed it this way, Wentworth had no valid reason to refuse. With a feigned look of excitement, he replied:

"Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore! It would be an honor! Let's get going right away!"

Just as Wentworth turned to open the door for Dumbledore, he was stopped.

"Wentworth, you're heading the wrong way—this way!"

Following Dumbledore's gesture, Wentworth froze. In the corner of the Headmaster's office stood a magnificent fiery red bird. It hadn't been there when he entered earlier!

Without a doubt, this was Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes!

Wentworth marveled at the legendary creature's beauty, his heart full of admiration. He reached out instinctively, intending to touch it, but his hand was gently held back by Dumbledore.

"It's time to go, Wentworth. The match is about to begin."

With that, Dumbledore placed his other hand on Fawkes. With a resonant cry from the phoenix, both their figures vanished from the office.

When Wentworth felt solid ground beneath his feet again, they were standing at the edge of a lush green field.

Ahead of them, the sky was ablaze with vibrant fireworks, and countless tents dotted the emerald grass.

"The Quidditch World Cup finals are usually held in August, just before the start of term," Dumbledore explained as they walked toward the bustling crowd. "That's why many Hogwarts students come to watch. Unfortunately, due to weather, this year's match had to be rescheduled to September. I imagine quite a few students at Hogwarts will be losing sleep tonight!"

Curious, Wentworth asked:

"Headmaster Dumbledore, why didn't we just Apparate directly into the venue? Why stop at the outskirts?"

Dumbledore turned back with a mischievous grin and said:

"Because I don't have tickets, Wentworth!"

Wentworth stumbled in shock.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, you don't have tickets? Then how are we supposed to get in?"

Dumbledore chuckled and said nonchalantly:

"It's fine. I may not have tickets, but the International Confederation of Wizards President does. Conveniently, that's me!"

Realization dawned on Wentworth.

"Ah, I see. Others use tickets; we're using status!"

As they approached the crowd, Wentworth noticed that everyone was impeccably dressed. Many carried walking sticks, exuding an air of sophistication.

Leading the group was a stout, round-faced man who hurried toward Dumbledore with an ingratiating smile.

"Oh, Dumbledore, it's wonderful you could come! Your presence will make tonight's match even more spectacular! Please, you must say a few words before the game begins!"

Dumbledore smiled warmly but declined politely:

"Good evening, Cornelius. Actually, I'm just here to enjoy the match with my student. I think you, as Minister Fudge, are better suited for a speech!"

Cornelius Fudge didn't seem disappointed. In fact, his smile grew even broader. Turning to Wentworth, he exclaimed:

"This young wizard looks quite young—perhaps a new student this year? Seeing him reminds me of my own days at Hogwarts. Such fond memories!"

Wentworth now realized this was Cornelius Fudge, the newly appointed Minister for Magic. Seeing Fudge fawn over Dumbledore, Wentworth found it hard to believe this man would later have the audacity to oppose the Headmaster.

Before Fudge could say more, the people behind him began stepping forward, eager to greet Dumbledore. Some spoke with familiarity, while others introduced themselves.

Standing to the side, Wentworth listened intently, recognizing several characters from the original books.

One stood out—a man with pale blond hair, cold gray-blue eyes, and a sallow complexion: Lucius Malfoy.

As Wentworth studied Lucius with amusement, the latter's sharp eyes turned toward him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, it's rare to see you bringing a Hogwarts student to a public event. May I ask who this young wizard is?"

The attention of the surrounding crowd shifted back to Wentworth.

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