"Bertha Jorkins?"
Mr. Bagman let out a snort, as if the name itself was just too much for him to handle.
"Oh, her—she's utterly absent," Bagman said nonchalantly, "but don't worry, she'll show up—poor old Bertha... Her memory is like a cauldron with a hole in it, and she's terribly directionally challenged. I bet she's gotten lost somehow, believe it or not—anyway, I think one day in October she'll stagger back into the office, still thinking it's July."
"Seeing as she's missing now, don't you plan on sending someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley tentatively suggested, thinking it was only proper to organize a search for Bertha, considering they were coworkers.
"Batty Crouch does keep saying that," Bagman said, his round eyes widening with an innocent look, "but right now we really don't have the manpower. Ah — speak of the devil, here he comes! Batty!"
A wizard was striding over from a distance, presenting a stark contrast to Ludo Bagman, who was lounging lazily in old Wasp Team robes on the grass.
Batty Crouch was a man in his fifties, upright, with stiff movements, dressed in an immaculately clean suit and tie; his well-groomed mustache appeared as if it had been trimmed with a ruler.
His shoes were polished to a shine, and his entire outfit was meticulous.
No wonder Percy idolized him, with Percy's penchant for strict discipline, and Mr. Crouch's impeccable adherence to Muggle dress codes, he could very well pass off as a bank manager.
Seeing Old Batty Crouch arrive, Percy's face flushed with a layer of sycophantic red.
"I suspect Percy's been polishing Old Batty's shoes with his tongue," Fred whispered to George, "If I didn't know his last name was Weasley, I'd think it was Crouch..."
They were genuinely unimpressed with Percy's behavior, even Charlie and Bill frowned at Percy's display.
A bit over the top on the flattery.
"Take a seat and rest, Batty." Ludo said happily, patting the grass beside him.
"No, thank you, Ludo," Crouch said with a touch of impatience in his voice, "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians insist we add twelve more seats to the top box."
"Oh, so that's what they want!" Bagman said, "I thought the guy wanted to borrow a pair of tweezers from me, their accent is just so heavy."
"Mr. Crouch!" Percy barely managed to catch his breath in his excitement.
He leaned forward in a bowing gesture that made him look hunched, "Delighted to see you, Mr. Crouch!"
"Oh," Mr. Crouch said, slightly surprised as he regarded Percy, "Well—nice to see you too, Weasley."
Fred and George almost laughed themselves into spilling their tea. Percy's ears turned pink, pretending to be absorbed in looking at his shoes.
Mr. Weasley beside them, however, had a darkened expression, unlike the twins; as Percy's father, he couldn't very well join in the glee.
"What an embarrassment." Ron muttered under his breath, clearly feeling awkward.
Because of Percy's flattery, furthermore, he felt embarrassed for his brother not receiving reciprocal attention.
"Let's go grab something to eat." Vivi, tugging on Harry's sleeve, nestled her arms around his, cooing, "I'm getting a bit hungry, Harry."
"Alright." Harry nodded, saying, "Let's go, Kathy, let's check it out."
The trio walked over to a stall selling sausages and sandwiches, taking seats on small stools nearby.
"I'll have three sausages and three sandwiches." Harry picked up the menu, handing it to Cassandra, "I'll take tuna, how about you?"
"We'll have the same," the two replied.
Vivi suddenly said in a low voice, "What do you think of the International Magical Exchange and Cooperation Department?"
"Um—" Harry didn't quite catch Vivi's meaning, asking quietly, "In what aspect are you talking about?"
"I mean," Vivi chuckled softly, "what do you think of that department for the Godfather—I think he's suited to work there, starting as the head."
"Huh?" Harry was a bit baffled.
"Madness?" Cassandra's eyes curved, her lips turned downward, "Grindelwald, you just met the head of the International Magical Exchange and Cooperation Department, didn't you? Old Batty Crouch, doesn't need reminding, right?"
"I say this, and I have my reasons." Vivi's fingers absentmindedly traced the tabletop, "Watch closely, the head position of that department will be available in three months…"
"Will Mr. Crouch be promoted?" Harry asked.
"Oh." Vivi raised an eyebrow, "You could say that—after all, if you wish, the Godfather can become the head."
"That's a good thing then!" Harry beamed, saying, "How perfect would that be? Mr. Crouch gets promoted, and the Godfather naturally steps into the International Magical Exchange and Cooperation Department as the head... Is there anything better than this?"
However, Cassandra instinctively felt something was off.
Harry hadn't sensed it, because he trusted Vivi.
Whereas Cassandra's unease stemmed from fundamentally not trusting a word out of the woman's mouth.