Chapter 47: Pub Match (Two-in-One~)
The match ended, and the students gradually dispersed.
Although there were no image rights regulations in the wizarding world, Melvin felt it necessary to consult both players. He approached the two Heads of House to explain the situation and suggested they go together to speak with the students.
Snape, unwilling to respond, dismissed the matter and told Melvin to fetch the players himself while he hurried back to his office to deal with the burnt hems of his cloak.
That was the situation.
When Professor McGonagall and Melvin found the players, both teams were sorting their robes in the locker room. Gryffindor was in high spirits, playing an animated game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would stay behind to return the brooms.
Slytherin, on the other hand, was desolate. Captain Marcus Flint assigned the unlucky Seeker to perform odd jobs, blaming his team's defeat on Potter catching the Golden Snitch. This was standard procedure in Slytherin, and the other players didn't object.
Gathering players from both teams in the hall, Melvin explained his purpose, suggesting that the match footage could appear in the pub.
"…I'm not sure how much revenue it will generate exactly, but it will let more wizards see your performance, which should be useful if you want to continue playing Quidditch after graduation."
Hearing Professor Lewynter's words, the players fell into deep thought.
The unlucky Slytherin Seeker's eyes lit up at the idea that the profits would be used to replace the team's brooms. There was hope.
"Professor Lewynter, when will we get new brooms?"
Melvin paused, glancing at the green robes of the Serpents. Although the exact revenue was uncertain, he guaranteed that all Slytherin teams would have Nimbus 2000 brooms next year.
He promised support with the Malfoy family fortune.
Slytherin players were ecstatic. They would get new brooms next year and would crush Gryffindor and Harry Potter alike. Their imagination of future victories dissolved today's frustration.
Led by Captain Flint, they quickly agreed to license the images for the tournament.
Everything was going smoothly for Gryffindor as well. Captain Oliver Wood, graduating next year, planned to become a professional Quidditch player. Broadcasting the tournament footage would increase his visibility and influence, making it easier to be selected by more teams.
Upon learning that the Headmaster and their Dean had approved, the rest of the players expressed trust in Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, supporting Professor Lewynter's plan.
The only exceptions were George and Fred. They huddled and whispered:
"Professor, professor, can't the profits be used to buy brooms? Could we get them directly?"
Professor McGonagall immediately understood their thinking:
"In principle, team profits should go to the team, but if you insist, you may give them to your parents."
"Forget it then."
"Let's use them to buy brooms."
"…"
McGonagall was in a good mood today. She didn't scold the twins. She watched the players approve the authorization one by one, then suddenly noticed a count discrepancy:
"Potter isn't here? Where did he go?"
"He and his friends went to visit Hagrid."
"I saw Snape personally hex Harry's broom, keeping his gaze fixed on him."
"On Halloween night, he broke into the fourth-floor corridor and a three-headed dog bit his leg. I discovered his secret, so he wanted to kill me."
That three-headed dog… is it called Fluffy?
Did you buy it from the Greek? What does it guard? Who is Nicolas Flamel?
Melvin stood outside the simple cabin, listening to voices inside, lost in thought.
In short, the gamekeeper had been tricked into revealing information by three first-year students. Was it intentional or accidental?
It was unclear what Hagrid thought, but Dumbledore had undoubtedly arranged it.
Melvin knocked on the cabin door and smiled at the young witch peeking out.
"I need to talk to Potter…"
The group quickly let the elective professor inside. Hermione already considered Professor Lewynter a friend. Harry and Ron were grateful to him for the Halloween troll incident.
As Hogwarts' gamekeeper, Hagrid knew the new elective professor but they weren't close. They merely nodded greetings on the street. Hagrid saw him as a warm, well-dressed man who connected well with everyone.
For some reason, Hagrid didn't like him and didn't want to socialize. But now, after being questioned by Harry about Nicolas Flamel, he welcomed Melvin with open arms.
Melvin feigned ignorance, sat down, and accepted the hot tea Hagrid prepared. He inspected the cabin and its occupant while repeating what he had just explained to the players.
This wizard, with giant blood in his veins, stood 2.68 m tall, a robust figure. A former classmate of Voldemort, he was already 63, yet showed no signs of aging. His thick black hair and booming, energetic voice were more vibrant than many young wizards'.
The cabin appeared shabby, yet its materials were exceptionally solid: floors of ash and wild pine, walls of teak and yew, beams and ceiling of camphor and beech. Judging by the wood grain, the trees were centuries old sturdy, durable, and naturally insect-resistant.
The walls were adorned with rare, valuable magical animal skins.
Overall, the gamekeeper's wealth surpassed even many professors'.
"…Captain Wood said you were here, so I came to fetch you." Melvin handed Harry the contract he had drafted the previous night.
"Technically, the Ministry of Magic hasn't… no law has been enacted yet, and Muggle law doesn't apply to wizards. But as a Professor of Muggle Studies, I think a contract makes it more formal."
Harry had only seen Uncle Vernon sign contracts and didn't expect to sign one himself. Although the professor said it had no legal effect, he felt strangely taken seriously, treated as an equal.
He glanced at it thoughtfully and nodded.
Trusting the Headmaster and the professor, Harry had already agreed to the plan.
While looking at the contract, Hermione took a three-percent chocolate from her pocket, produced by a certain workshop:
"Professor Lewyn, this is the chocolate you gave me last time. Can I eat it? It has no production info. I'm not sure how long it lasts."
"…"
Melvin stared at the Honeydukes wrapper, thinking Granger would make an ideal Minister of Magic. She had only been at Hogwarts three months, yet her family's sweet shop, run for decades, had turned into a clandestine workshop of 'three-percent' products.
"…I don't know how long magical sweets last, so don't eat them just in case. I have some fresh ones here." Melvin pulled a handful from his pocket and laid them on the wooden table.
The young wizard happily enjoyed the sweets. Hagrid also popped some into his mouth, struggling to separate sticky teeth while savoring the sweetness. His impression of the professor improved.
The air suddenly became sweeter. The hound, Yaya, sniffed in the corner, wagged his short tail, and approached with a laugh.
The Neapolitan Mastiff wasn't afraid of strangers. He smiled, rubbed Melvin a few times, and buried his head in his arms while eyeing the sweets, wagging his tail.
"You can't eat this."
Melvin opened some milk chocolates and gave them to him, patting his head twice: "Theobromine and caffeine are poisonous to you."
Hermione, sensitive to dogs, looked up instantly:
"Dogs can't eat chocolate?"
Melvin nodded:
"A dog's liver lacks the enzymes to digest chocolate. Theobromine and caffeine aren't metabolized, causing toxin buildup and poisoning."
Harry quickly asked: "What about the three-headed dog?"
"Huh? Mmm!"
Hagrid widened his eyes, wanting to interrupt, but had candy stuck in his teeth, so he just watched.
A three-headed dog's digestion exceeds a human's. Being magical, its body can handle the toxins before they accumulate. Melvin glanced at the anxious Hagrid, then changed the subject with a smile:
"But who would've thought such a creature's weakness would be…"
"Professor!"
Hagrid finally freed himself from the candy and vaguely said:
"Aren't you going to the Three Broomsticks? Better go early. The pub will be crowded this afternoon."
"Mmm… you're right. I'll go then."
"Let's have a drink together someday. How about the Hog's Head? The atmosphere there is better."
"Deal, Hagrid."
"Goodbye!"
Seeing Hagrid bid Melvin farewell, Harry and Hermione were so annoyed they almost filled his mouth with candy again.
Hogsmeade.
Sunset.
The sky darkened, clouds and mist forming a curtain. Street lamps flickered, and most shops were nearly closed, except a few open at night, lit by oil lamps.
After dinner, the middle-aged wizard Tuckerlot, having asked his wife to buy oil and salt, left his house and headed to the Three Broomsticks, observing the familiar village as he walked.
Hogsmeade, nestled in the Scottish Highlands, was colder than London. Surrounding mountains created significant temperature swings, and the wind always whistled through the streets at night, bringing a chill.
He strolled, watching other middle-aged wizards emerge from alleys, exchange glances, and chat a particularly pleasant sight.
Tuckerlot, a Hogwarts graduate, had been prominent in school. During his studies, he was Slytherin prefect and Quidditch captain, bringing his house two House Cups.
After graduating, he did not pursue a professional career, becoming a simple wizard. His family inherited a business not as glamorous as the pure-blood Saints. They sourced hinkypunks from Africa, crafted them into durable, attractive lamps, and sold them to wealthy wizards.
Although the family business, passed down generations, wasn't lucrative, it sustained them, providing a happy, stable life.
Tuckerlot's greatest passion was Quidditch. Past regrets faded with age; he now simply loved watching matches. He attended the Quidditch World Cup every four years.
He was a "champion fan": supporting the likely winner. Before last year's final, he supported Scotland, then switched to Canada afterward.
He valued honor and respected the strong.
Tuckerlot believed his judgment was sound. He would remain a devoted Canadian fan until the next World Cup, enjoying the glory of victory at the Three Broomsticks.
Such was the way of Slytherins.
But his plan faltered upon meeting Malcolm.
Malcolm, his age, had been Gryffindor Quidditch captain. They had played against each other at school, winning and losing, but their relationship softened slightly after graduation when they became neighbors.
He was a devoted fan of the Scottish team; they had chatted amicably before the last match. Afterward, Malcolm insisted Scotland was stronger and that Lamont only lost due to a shorter finger.
They began arguing:
"All Gryffindors are stubborn!
I must win this debate tonight!"
With unwavering conviction, Tuckerlot entered the Three Broomsticks. Indeed, Malcolm was already seated at his usual spot at the bar.
Tuckerlot approached and sat nearby. Instead of his usual butterbeer, he ordered a glass of mead. Glancing down, he saw another glass of mead beside him and smirked inwardly.
"Don't you insist on being yourself? Why didn't you order butterbeer instead of mead?"
"I can't explain it to a Slytherin like you, brain full of dragon dung and worms."
"!!!"
The battle was about to erupt, and the pub suddenly filled with curses and vulgar greetings.
Spectators smiled, thoroughly entertained. They could catch up on players' gossip and learn lost magical slang something eagerly anticipated each weekend.
Madam Rosmerta silently polished a wine glass, accustomed to the scene. When most weekend patrons had gathered, she placed a silver ladle in the barrel and went to the back room.
A few patrons noticed as she retrieved a large, transparent silver mirror from the back.
Tuckerlot and Malcolm, focused on their argument, noticed the sudden silence. With fewer people fueling the fire, their speech became clumsy.
Yet they persisted in describing the dragon dung in their heads until a young, strong voice called:
"Welcome to this season's Hogwarts Quidditch match!"
Tuckerlot and Malcolm turned and saw the vivid image in the silver mirror. Their eyes widened, taking in the strange yet familiar field.
"Today's match is Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"
The pub erupted in noise.
(End of Chapter)