Mrs. Malfoy awoke to thunderous cheers.
She blinked her drowsy eyes open.
In the dim early light, she saw a small hand resting on her upper body.
"Ugh—" She curled up instinctively, and the hand fell away.
Judging by the size and slender fingers, Mrs. Malfoy determined it must have been Diana's.
She turned her head.
The six girls were sprawled on the bed in varying angles of disarray, their heads tilted upward, chests rising and falling in sleep.
Whether their feet were aligned or not, Mrs. Malfoy didn't know.
What she did see was that Fleur's right foot had kicked off the blanket and landed squarely on Diana's elbow.
Diana, in turn, had an arm around Penelope Clearwater's neck.
Gemma's bent knee rested on Tonks' waist.
Tonks herself was lying in a starfish-like sprawl, sound asleep, with her limbs tangled around the others. One leg was stretched between Mrs. Malfoy's own.
The girls shifted occasionally in their sleep, revealing smooth, pale limbs—far too much exposed skin.
Penelope, dreaming sweetly, had two fingers in her mouth, sucking contentedly.
The scene was… stunning. Six young witches, barely clothed, entangled like vines on a bed.
Mrs. Malfoy's cheeks flushed crimson.
Moriarty must have seen everything…
Including the underwear she had intentionally chosen and changed into before bed.
What must he think of me? That I'm some frivolous, indecent woman?
Given their postures and the clothes they had shed during last night's games, he must have seen all he wanted—and more.
Mrs. Malfoy's thoughts spiraled. The noise from outside returned—another round of cheers erupting beyond the window—and she clutched her head in irritation.
"Bloody Merlin's beard," she muttered.
"What sort of hotel fails to cast a Silencing Charm around the perimeter?"
She was about to curse the management when a realization struck her.
Her sharp eyes turned to the floor-to-ceiling window.
That wasn't just random cheering. It was the roar of British fans.
"Clap!" She threw off the blanket and leapt out of bed barefoot, running to the tall window. She threw aside the curtain. The sunlight flooded in instantly, dazzling her.
Sunlight.
A new day.
Then it hit her. Today is the World Cup Final!
The much-anticipated showdown: England vs. the Japanese team.
Now it all made sense—why Moriarty had left early. He had a match to play.
She squinted out the window and saw the crowds of witches and wizards streaming out of the hotel, funneling toward the main Hyprosey Stadium.
From this distance, the pitch was already jammed. The stands overflowed, and workers were hurriedly conjuring temporary seating.
Mrs. Malfoy turned away and narrowed her eyes at the thick curtains.
These blasted drapes! They blocked out the sunlight and made us all oversleep!
And yet, a tiny flicker of gratitude welled up in her chest.
She was thankful Moriarty was a strong-willed boy.
Had something happened between us last night…
She shook the thought away violently.
Forget the final—we'd still be tangled in this bed, and who knows? Maybe even planning a nursery.
What are you thinking, Narcissa?!
She pinched the bridge of her nose and returned to the bed, ripping off the blanket.
"Get up! The match is starting—we're late!"
Tonks groaned from beneath a mess of blonde and bubblegum-pink hair.
"Stop yelling. Five more minutes…"
She didn't even open her eyes. She simply turned over—and ended up hugging Penelope.
The Ravenclaw girl blinked awake, her brows furrowing as she caught sight of Mrs. Malfoy pulling on her robes.
"Eep!" she squeaked. "The match! Moriarty!"
As soon as his name left her lips, the others jolted upright in unison.
"Merlin's beard!"
A storm of voices followed.
"Diana, that's my hair—not your pillow!"
"Fleur, your foot is not a wand!"
"Gemma, you were awful last night. Take it like a witch!"
"Tonks!! Get off me!"
Amid the chaos, Mrs. Malfoy—already robed—gathered the scattered garments from the carpet and handed them to each girl.
"Dress. Now."
"Thank you, madam," Penelope murmured with a blush, carefully pulling on her tights.
The more modest girls gave quiet thanks and dressed quickly.
Fleur teased, "Gemma, try not to put the bear knickers on backwards again."
"You're the one who twisted them sideways!" Gemma huffed. "I never even took them off."
"Hee hee hee~" The room rippled with laughter.
Diana sidled up beside Mrs. Malfoy, her gaze flicking downward before she said, "Madam, your—assets—are… quite enviable."
Mrs. Malfoy shot back without hesitation, "They grow with childbirth, dear. You'll see."
"Chi—child…"
"Grow… grow…"
The girls broke into giggles.
Even Diana wasn't immune—though her thoughts took a turn.
She imagined herself with Moriarty's child—perhaps a tiny Pixie King heir.
Then another round of shouting echoed from outside, this time in a foreign tongue.
"It's Japanese," Mrs. Malfoy said grimly. "The Dongying team is entering the stadium."
"Let's move!"
The girls tore out of the suite and through the hotel, racing across the grand lobby.
Under Mrs. Malfoy's command, they arrived at the luxury skybox reserved by the Malfoy family, accessible via a discreet passage.
The suite had been prepared for the "Forever Shine" fan group. Draco and his Slytherin friends sat at the front, brooms in their laps, chatting with Pansy Parkinson.
Mrs. Malfoy's expression soured upon seeing her son's flushed cheeks.
Your mother spent the night in another man's room, and you don't even bat an eye?
And you're flirting with Pansy like everything's peachy?
She stomped over, jabbed her son in the forehead with a gloved finger, and gave him a sharp reminder to uphold the dignity of the Malfoy name.
Diana and the girls swept into their seats beside her. The six witches, all elegant and radiant, turned heads immediately.
Lilith Moon, seated nearby, narrowed her eyes. She recognized their expressions, and it made her think.
"Ehem!"
Gilderoy Lockhart's voice suddenly rang out through the enchanted audio system. He stood in the most central commentator's box, wand-enhanced microphone in hand.
"Can you hear me?"
The audience turned toward the box.
Lockhart beamed, his teeth blinding.
"I am your commentator for today's final! The previous chap was let go for taking bribes from Nimbus."
Gasps.
"But I, Gilderoy Lockhart, volunteered to the Canadian Ministry of Magic and the International Quidditch Federation to replace him!"
The crowd roared.
Even foreign wizards who didn't recognize the name joined in on the infectious cheer.
Lockhart basked in their admiration.
He wore a shimmering silver robe, his golden curls perfectly styled.
"Witches, wizards, and magical children who love Quidditch!"
"Welcome… to the 421st Quidditch World Cup Final!"
Cheers erupted.
"Now, let me introduce—England's mascot!"
British fans exploded into applause.
From above, a flight of unicorns descended slowly, their silver manes shimmering.
Their wings flapped gracefully as they landed on the grass, some pausing, some sniffing the air, others ambling to the lower stands.
"My Merlin," someone breathed, "actual unicorns!"
Lockhart grinned smugly.
He had personally secured the unicorns on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic.
"I say we make a wish while they're here," he winked.
Some adults chuckled. Children closed their eyes and whispered dreams.
Unicorns couldn't actually grant wishes, of course—but try telling that to a wide-eyed first year.
Mrs. Malfoy noticed Draco clasping his hands, eyes squeezed shut, mumbling something.
She could've sworn she heard the word "Dad."
She sighed.
Her heart ached a little.
After several minutes, the unicorns retreated.
"Now," Lockhart's voice rang once more, "eyes to the sky!"
"Here comes the mascot of Team Dongying!"
The audience turned upward.
A rainbow had materialized in the sky. But as it came closer, the illusion resolved—
A flock of crows.
Seven-colored crows.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—each bird shimmered with a chromatic plumage.
"Caw, caw, caw…"
The crows crooned softly. Their long beaks opened—and gold coins rained down from the sky like flower petals.
Spectators scrambled to catch them, diving beneath benches to snatch whatever they could.
Diana plucked one from the air and turned it over in her palm, frowning.
"This has been enchanted. Looks like gold… but there's something wrong. I sense a trace of malevolent magic."
At that same moment, deep beneath the stadium, Moriarty stood at the player's entrance.
His eyes were fixed on the rainbow crows.
His face turned serious.
The Tsukamura clan…
They were among the founders of the Pang Ya Society and known practitioners of the Royal Raven Arts.
Colorful crows were said to symbolize valor and benevolence—but in the Tsukamura clan's hands… it was a mockery.