SWDnovel Chapter 338 I Need a Piece of Mist
Chapter 338 I Need a Piece of Mist
Chapter 338 I Need a Mist (6K) (1/2)
As the Irish team lifted the trophy, fireworks lit up the night sky, turning it into a flowing sea of green and gold, bringing this Quidditch extravaganza to a close amidst extreme revelry.
Inside the private room, excited chatter and satisfied sighs mingled.
The Weasleys were still intensely reviewing Krum's glorious but ultimately unsuccessful capture attempt; Harry and Ron's voices were both a little hoarse.
Professor McGonagall gently put down her binoculars, her face showing a rare, natural joy and relaxation that came from appreciating such a high level of competition.
She straightened her slightly wrinkled robe, stood up, and turned to the host of the private room that evening. Her tone was as formal as ever, but warmer than usual: "Professor Lynch, thank you for your invitation tonight. This is undoubtedly an extremely wonderful..."
A truly unforgettable final. I think I should take my leave now; I have plans for tomorrow morning.
After watching the game, she was satisfied and planned to return to Hogwarts.
Lin Qi had been keeping an eye on her out of the corner of his eye, and turned around when he heard her voice.
Just then, another grand finale of fireworks exploded outside the window, the dazzling light and thunderous sound instantly engulfing the private room.
Amidst the deafening roar, Lynch seemed distracted by the noise and naturally raised his voice slightly, his tone carrying a hint of reluctance: "There's no need to rush, Professor McGonagall." He gestured towards Mrs. Weasley by the railing, "We have a small gathering later, and Mrs. Weasley has prepared quite a few delicious dishes."
The deafening roar of the fireworks gradually subsided, but the echoes still lingered in my ears.
Lin Qi's voice was clear in the relatively quiet private room, making his subtle attempt to persuade Lin Qi to stay even more obvious.
Professor McGonagall was slightly taken aback.
She did intend to leave, but Lynch's invitation—offered with the casual reasons of "a party" and "good food"—made it difficult for her to find the right words to refuse.
On the one hand, her usual practice is to keep her distance and avoid getting too involved in her colleagues' private social lives, especially those with complicated backgrounds like Lynch. On the other hand, she had just received a favor from him, enjoying a top-notch viewing experience that far exceeded her expectations, and their relationship had indeed improved from its initial freezing point in recent years.
From both a moral and logical standpoint, if the other party makes a seemingly casual invitation for further interaction, it would not only be impolite to refuse outright, but it could also cause the relationship to fall back into an awkward state.
As she pondered how to politely decline without being impolite, while still maintaining her departure plan—
"Oh, yes, Professor McGonagall!" Mrs. Weasley's voice chimed in at the perfect moment. She had just been directing Ginny to put away the snack wrappers, and now she turned around with a warm, hospitable smile. "You absolutely have to stay! I've prepared plenty of meat pies, roast chicken, and honey pudding, guaranteed to be even better than what you get at the Hogwarts feast! And," she gestured toward the twins who were surrounding Harry and Ron, trying to get them to recreate Krum's dive, and lowered her voice with a pleading smile, "with you here, these little rascals will be a bit more disciplined, and Arthur and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief."
"Just consider it a favor to us, and also to try my cooking?"
Molly spoke very naturally, cleverly transforming "attending the party" into a combination of "helping to look after the students" and "enjoying home-cooked meals." This gave Professor McGonagall a friendly reason that she couldn't refuse with "official business," and the phrase "helping out" made it difficult for her to refuse outright. She also praised her cooking skills.
Professor McGonagall looked at Molly's sincere and expectant face, then glanced at Lynch. He said nothing more, simply waiting calmly for her reply, as if the invitation had just been a casual remark, and he respected whatever decision she made.
She felt that familiar, slight tug-of-war between human sentiment and principle once again.
Her stern gaze swept over the twins, who had clearly gone a bit too far with their play, and Harry and Ron, who were equally overexcited. As the Headmistress and Vice-Headmistress of Gryffindor, she naturally knew this was just a way to save face.
But staying behind to "keep an eye on" these energetic young people seems more reasonable than immediately joining the chaotic crowd of people leaving, and it is also more in line with her consistent responsible attitude.
"—Alright," Professor McGonagall finally sighed softly, a sign of compromise, but the serious expression on her face didn't completely fade; instead, it became even more solemn. "Since you've said so, Mrs. Weasley, I'll stay a little longer. However," she turned specifically to Lynch, her tone returning to its usual clarity, "it's just for a couple of drinks, and I need to leave before it gets too late."
"Of course, Professor McGonagall." Lynch nodded slightly, indicating his understanding and respect for her conditions.
Just then, Sirius, who had been standing next to Harry, grinned and said loudly, "Great! With Professor McGonagall around, some people will have to eat with forks instead of trying to shoot peas with them, right, George? Fred?" He winked mischievously at the twins.
The twins immediately put on innocent expressions, eliciting a few chuckles, which made the atmosphere in the private room even more relaxed and harmonious.
With his back to everyone, Lin Qi turned around to signal the waiter that they could begin clearing away the movie-watching equipment in the box. A faint smile, as if he were merely pleased with the warm scene before him, flashed across his lips silently before disappearing beneath his usual calm.
The few odds and ends brought by the individuals in the private room were quickly collected and taken away.
Their group—Lynch, Professor McGonagall, Sirius Black, the Weasleys, the twins, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione—merged into the end of the departing crowd.
Unlike the excitement and eagerness of entering earlier, the crowd moved slowly at this moment, filled with the exhaustion and satisfied clamor after the carnival.
The air was thick with the mingled smells of sweat, pyrotechnic powder, butterbeer, and cheap perfume. Everywhere you looked, fans wearing green hats or waving Bulgarian lion flags were arguing loudly or singing in small groups. Occasionally, a drunken fan would stumble and bump into someone, drawing laughter and shouts.
Lynch and Mr. Weasley naturally walked at the front, talking in hushed tones, skillfully guiding the group away from the most congested side streets.
Sirius walked beside Harry, one hand casually draped over his godson's shoulder, his grey eyes scanning the overly excited crowd with a wary eye, especially the young wizards huddled together, their behavior slightly agitated. Professor McGonagall walked beside Molly and Hermione, maintaining her upright posture, her brow slightly furrowed. She was clearly displeased with the chaos and noise around her, but out of a sense of duty, her gaze lingered more on the boys, especially the twins and Ron, to prevent them from being distracted by the commotion and getting lost or causing trouble.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still caught up in the excitement of the race, their voices hoarse as they discussed Krum's final dive and Lynch's half-beat slowdown, somewhat oblivious to their surroundings. The twins, on the other hand, were like two overactive hounds, darting around the edge of the group, commenting on the strange souvenirs and drunken antics they saw along the way, occasionally getting a low scolding from Molly.
The tent area was even more "vibrant" than when we arrived.
Many tents still had throngs of people reluctant to leave, continuing their celebrations. Magical lighting illuminated the areas, and the air was filled with the aroma of food and music. But some tents had fallen silent, their owners clearly exhausted and asleep. Ribbons, empty bottles, and various wrappers were scattered on the ground, slowly gathering themselves up under the influence of magic, but clearly not keeping pace with the rate at which they were creating trash.
"Merlin, this is even more lively than during the competition," Ron exclaimed, dodging a wizard who was backing away while doing a giggle.
"It's much more chaotic too," Hermione commented, carefully avoiding a suspicious puddle of spilled liquid. "The Ministry of Magic will be busy cleaning up tomorrow."
"As long as they don't use the ball as a cleaning tool," Fred—or George—said with a grin.
After walking for about twenty minutes, they finally returned to the area where the Weasleys' tent was located.
The tents here are less densely packed and relatively quiet, but you can still hear faint noise coming from the direction of the main passage in the distance.
"We're here!" Molly breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across her face. She quickly walked a few steps to check if their tent was intact. "Come in, Minerva, Mr. Lynch, and Sirius, I'll set out the food right away."
Although the Weasleys' tent looked crooked and crooked from the outside, it was warm, bright, and full of homey atmosphere inside.
Sure enough, a sumptuous meal had been laid out on the long table, clearly indicating that Molly had made preparations in advance.
Professor McGonagall stood at the tent entrance, hesitating slightly.
Staying for dinner was a step further than she had anticipated, a mere "sit for a while." But watching Molly's enthusiastic and busy figure, she relented once again, shaking her head slightly with an almost imperceptible smile of helplessness as she stepped into the tent.
Lynch was the last to enter.
He paused outside the tent for a moment, his gaze calmly sweeping over the campsite that was gradually being enveloped in night.
The sounds of celebration still lingered in the distance, and further still, the outline of the forest appeared deep and silent under the starry sky. His gaze paused slightly in a few directions; perhaps some tents were too quiet, or perhaps the lights had been turned off too early.
But his face remained expressionless. He simply watched quietly for a while before turning around, bowing his head, and walking into the warm and bright tent. The curtain fell behind him, temporarily separating the joyful sounds of reunion inside from the unknown, gathering darkness outside.
The atmosphere inside the tent was warm and noisy.
The long table was laden with Molly's signature dishes, their aromas filling the air.
The Weasley children were already bursting with excitement. The twins were trying to play "food Quidditch" with forks, only to be smacked on the head with a spoon by their mother, Molly. Ron's plate was piled high with food, while Harry and Hermione were whispering and arguing about some tactical detail as they ate. Ginny sat obediently beside her mother, taking small bites of pudding.
Professor McGonagall sat next to Molly, a moderate amount of food on her plate. Her posture remained upright, but her expression was much gentler than in the castle, occasionally offering praise for Molly's cooking. Sirius Black, on the other hand, seemed much more relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, a glass of butterbeer in his hand, watching Harry and Ron playfully bickering, occasionally cracking a joke.
Lynch sat smiling at the other end of the table, eating very little—in fact, everything he put in his mouth had been vanished with a vanishing spell.
They were mostly listening quietly, as if trying to confirm something.
Just as Molly got up to get the second batch of scones, the twins started urging Ron to perform his "swallowing a whole potato without choking" trick—
A faint, distinct noise, unlike the clamor of celebration, like muffled thuds coming through several layers of cloth, crept into the tent.
At first, it was not obvious, almost ignored amidst the lingering echoes of celebration in the distance. But the sound seemed to contain short screams and sporadic shrieks, and it was gradually becoming clearer.
"Isn't it a bit too noisy outside?" Hermione was the first to stop talking, listen carefully, and frown slightly.
With a pie stuffed in his mouth, Ron mumbled, "Someone must be drunk and causing trouble. It's like this ever since the World Cup ended—"
But then, a clearer, sharp scream belonging to a woman pierced the night sky, seemingly not too far away!
Then came a dull thud like a heavy object falling to the ground, followed by several rough curses.
The lively conversation inside the tent came to a complete halt. Everyone put down their knives and forks.
"Something's not right." Mr. Weasley's expression turned serious. As the owner of the tent and a Ministry of Magic employee instinctively concerned about camp security, he stood up. "This doesn't sound like ordinary drunken brawls. The noise is coming from the edge of our area."
"I'll go out and check things out. Molly, tell everyone not to go out yet." He spoke calmly, but moved swiftly, picking up his wand.
"Arthur," Molly said worriedly.
"I'll go with you, Arthur." Sirius stood up as well, his gray eyes gleaming with vigilance. "In case anything happens, it'll be good to have each other for backup." He had experienced too much darkness and had an instinctive reaction to anything unusual.
"Very well," Mr. Weasley nodded.
"Sirius!" Harry called out anxiously.
"Stay here, Harry, listen to Lynch and Professor McGonagall." Sirius quickly ruffled Harry's hair, gave him a reassuring look, and then followed Mr. Weasley toward the tent entrance.
Molly nervously twisted her apron: "Arthur, be careful!"
Lin Qi's gaze calmly followed the two of them. He tapped his fingers almost imperceptibly on the table, but did not get up. He simply held a glass of fruit wine in his hand.
Mr. Weasley and Sirius Black lifted the curtain and went out.
A brief silence fell over the tent as everyone strained to hear what was happening outside. The noise seemed to intensify, with the faint sounds of running footsteps and indistinct shouts audible.
After about several tens of seconds, the curtain was lifted, and Mr. Weasley strode in alone, his brow furrowed, his face showing confusion and obvious anger.
"What's going on outside, Arthur?" Molly asked immediately.
"Someone's deliberately causing trouble, creating a disturbance!" Mr. Weasley said with certainty, his voice tinged with suppressed anger. "I saw several people, dressed in black, their faces obscured, setting fire to trash cans and makeshift stalls along the way, throwing things at a few isolated tents, and shouting threats. They weren't targeting anyone in particular; they were just causing chaos everywhere, trying to muddy the waters! I also saw smoke coming from tents in the distance; there might be accomplices there! The patrols have vanished; I can't see them anywhere!"
"Was it drunk fans causing trouble?" Mrs. Weasley speculated.
"Not at all," Mr. Weasley shook his head. "Their movements are purposeful, their movements are methodical, not like those of drunkards."
"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.
"He crept over to check things out," Mr. Weasley replied.
Hearing this, Harry's heart skipped a beat, but thankfully, the curtain was lifted again soon after, bringing with it a cool night breeze and a faint smell of smoke.
Sirius slipped inside and quickly fastened the curtain behind him.
His hair was somewhat disheveled, and his face was much gloomy than when he left. His gray eyes burned with cold anger, and there was also a trace of lingering fear and solemnity.
"How are you? Are you alright?" Mr. Weasley asked quickly.
"I'm fine." Sirius's voice was hoarse. He took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the tent, lingering for a moment on Lynch's face, before he spoke clearly, word by word: "Death Eaters. I got closer, saw the style of their masks, heard their hushed conversations—and the spells they used. I didn't see the Dark Mark, but that smell—it's unmistakable." His fists clenched so tightly they cracked. "They're deliberately creating panic, torturing and attacking what they perceive as blood traitors" and Muggle-born individuals. The Ministry of Magic's response is ridiculously slow."
"Death Eaters—" Molly covered her mouth, her face deathly pale. The terrifying memories brought back by that word instantly overwhelmed the warmth inside the tent.
Harry felt a familiar stinging pain in the skin beneath the scar, and his stomach tightened. Ron and Hermione also turned pale. The twins' playful expressions vanished, and they gripped their wands tightly.
Professor McGonagall's face was as hard as marble. She straightened her back and quickly made a judgment: "We must strengthen our defenses immediately. Mrs. Weasley, please help me gather the children at the innermost part of the tent. Mr. Weasley, could you try to contact the Ministry of Magic? Mr. Black, please guard the entrance."
Her arrangement was concise and effective, and her gaze immediately fell on Lin Qi, the only person still sitting in the tent.
Professor McGonagall's gaze fell on Lynch, and the meaning in her eyes was clear—faced with this sudden and familiar dark threat, this colleague, renowned for hunting dark wizards and possessing unfathomable strength, was undoubtedly the most reliable reliance and commander at this moment.
She may not entirely agree with some of his methods, but she has no doubt about his ability and decisiveness in dealing with such crises.
Lynch met Professor McGonagall's gaze and slowly stood up from his seat.
His movements were not hurried, but they instantly drew all the anxious and bewildered gazes in the tent to him.
"Arthur, Molly," Lynch's voice was steady and clear, "take all the children to the innermost part of the tent immediately and cast all the protective spells you can think of. Keep quiet, and don't use any magic that makes light or noise. Here," he pointed outside the tent, "we'll handle it."
His tone left no room for negotiation; it was an absolute command based on his own capabilities.
The Weasleys exchanged a glance, seeing the same trust and obedience in each other's eyes. In moments like these, a clear leader is more important than anything else.
"Children, come with me!" Mrs. Weasley urged in a low voice, getting to work immediately. Mr. Weasley also waved his wand and began reinforcing the tent's interior.
"Harry, listen to Molly!" Sirius said to the boys. Although he was eager to act, he understood that Lynch's arrangement was to protect them.
Harry wanted to say something, but seeing Uncle Lynch's calm yet profound gaze, and then his godfather's resolute eyes, he swallowed his words and, along with Ron and Hermione, was led deeper into the tent by the Weasleys. The twins, though unwilling and wanting to help, knew this wasn't the time to be stubborn.
Lynch then looked at Sirius and Professor McGonagall and said briefly, "Come with me." He walked to the tent entrance first and lifted the curtain.
The chaotic noise outside immediately became clear and jarring.
Screams, laughter, running sounds, the crackling of things being smashed and burning mingled together, and in the distance, the flames of more tents being set ablaze illuminated the sky, with eerie lights flickering in several directions.
The air was thick with smoke and the smell of panic.
Lin Qi stood in the shadows at the tent entrance, his eyes slightly closed as if he were sensing something.
The next second, his figure suddenly blurred and shrank, and to the astonishment of Professor McGonagall and Sirius Black, he transformed into a black raven with glossy feathers, silently flapping his wings and instantly merging into the dark night sky.
The crow circled high in the sky, its sharp bird's-eye view taking in the chaos of the vast camp—small groups of black-robed figures spreading everywhere, people being driven and trampled, flames rising and the center of the riot—just a dozen seconds later, the crow swooped down, transforming back into Lynch's figure before landing.
His expression grew even more grim than before, and his speech quickened, yet remained clear and organized: "The unrest has erupted in multiple locations and is spreading throughout the camp. Organized core groups are taking advantage of the chaos to attack specific targets, most likely Muggle-born wizarding families and tents associated with Muggles. The Ministry of Magic's patrol forces are fragmented and constrained, resulting in a slow response."
He looked at Professor McGonagall and Sirius, his dark eyes gleaming in the distant firelight: "I don't have a wand, so I can't cast large-scale, powerful control or dispel spells at once. I need your help."
"What do I need to do?" Sirius asked immediately, his wand already gripped tightly, his gray eyes burning with fighting spirit.
Professor McGonagall gripped her wand tightly, her face serious as she awaited instructions.
She understood that what Lynch needed was not just a simple attack.
Lynch pointed to the night sky above the camp, which was shrouded in firelight and magical glow, and said in a cold voice, "Mist."
"Use your utmost power, regardless of mana consumption, to cast Mist of Ethereal Light." I need a dense enough, wide enough mist to cover the entire camp.