fantasy novels Chapter 333 Camp Office
Chapter 333 Camp Office
Chapter 333 Camp Office (6K) (2/2)
The next moment, Harry's feet were suddenly lifted off the ground.
It didn't fly up; it was forcibly pulled away by that force!
The entire world—green hillsides, the outline of the humble dwelling, the morning sky—was instantly distorted and stretched, turning into swirling bands of color and blurry light and shadow, rushing past him at an astonishing speed.
The wind howled sharply, filling his ears and almost tearing his eardrums. It was a more brutal, more direct kind of wind!
This feeling is completely different from being transported by a phantom.
Apparition is a suffocating, oppressive feeling that comes from all directions. Although uncomfortable, it is extremely brief, more like a "switching" of space. Door key travel, on the other hand, is a continuous and violent process of "hooking" and "dragging"!
He could clearly feel himself being frantically dragged through some incomprehensible passage or dimension, his body spinning and jolting uncontrollably, as if tethered to a runaway flying broomstick, tumbling through a storm. His stomach churned, and his heart pounded violently, as if trying to break free from the restraints in his chest.
My sense of time has become blurred.
It could last only a few seconds, or it could last for several minutes.
Just as Harry felt he was about to vomit or be torn apart by the violent journey, the dragging force vanished without warning.
boom! boom! boom!
Several muffled thuds followed, mixed with gasps and stumbling footsteps. Harry's feet slammed heavily onto the ground, his knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed, quickly bracing himself with his hands. The rough gravel dug into his palms. He felt dizzy, his ears were ringing, and his stomach was churning.
He gasped for breath, raised his head, and it took him a while to refocus his gaze.
"Merlin's beard!" Ron groaned beside him, his face green, clutching his stomach. "It's always like this—"
Why can't we use Floo Powder?
Harry glanced at him, thinking about his past experience as a Floo fan, which wasn't much better than using a Portkey.
Hermione was also trying to calm her breathing and tidy her wind-blown hair, but her eyes were already sparkling as she looked around: "This is the World Cup camp? It's magnificent!"
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory seemed to be settling in well, checking the number of people and luggage. "Well done, kids, we've arrived! Welcome to the 1994 Quidditch World Cup Finals camp!" Mr. Weasley stood on the slope, his voice booming with pride and excitement, clearly thrilled by the spectacular sight before him.
Harry slowly stood up, still feeling a little unwell, but his heart was pounding with the incredible sight behind Mr. Weasley.
The grand celebration, unique to the magical world, was deeply awe-inspiring.
Before them lay a completely unfamiliar landscape: they seemed to stand on the edge of a vast, slightly undulating wasteland, with the outline of a dense forest in the distance. Most striking was the sight of countless tents, each a vibrant color and unique shape, scattered like mushrooms after a rain, stretching to the horizon. Some tents appeared ordinary, while others defied the laws of physics—some resembled miniature castles, others giant golden snails, and still others seemed to be made of living things…
It was woven from bushes covered in blooming flowers. Thousands of wizards and witches scurried between the tents like ants, their noise, laughter, hawking, and strange music coming from nowhere blending into a deafeningly loud and boisterous scene.
The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, the smell of earth, and a certain festive atmosphere.
After saying goodbye to the still excited Diggory father and son, the Weasleys, along with Harry and Hermione, dragged their luggage and joined the surging crowd in the sea of tents.
It took them some effort to find their tent on the edge of an area dominated by scarlet and gold tents that clearly supported the Irish team. It was a sturdy tent that looked more spacious than most, with inconspicuous rainproof runes painted on its canvas. A small sign that read "Weasley" was stuck in the doorway—Mr. Weasley said he had borrowed it from a colleague who couldn't come.
The tent was a hidden world inside, enchanted with a seamless stretching spell, divided into several small compartments, enough for everyone to have their own bed, as well as a common living area.
After settling in and quickly tidying up, Mrs. Weasley glanced at the sky and clapped her hands. "Alright, children, preparing lunch here requires advance preparation. We need water and some firewood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, you three go fetch water; there's a public tap over there." She pointed in a direction. "George, Fred, you go find some suitable firewood. Don't sneak off to browse those suspicious stalls! Ginny, help me with these potatoes!"
After the tasks were clearly defined, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took several folding buckets, stepped out of the tent, and plunged back into the noisy ocean outside.
The camp was much more bustling and lively than it appeared from the edge.
They wandered among the tents of varying heights and odd shapes, as if walking through a labyrinth of fabric, magic, and frenzy.
Harry had never seen so many wizards gathered together: wizards and witches dressed in all sorts of strange, even outrageous, costumes, accompanied by pets that could shoot sparks, talking loudly in various languages, haggling, and singing off-key songs. The air was filled with the aroma of food, the strange smell of potion ingredients, and swirling dust.
Several wizards wearing Irish shamrock hats walked by, drunk and arm in arm, loudly predicting the score of the match. Not far away, a group of Bulgarian fans waved flags with ferocious lion symbols or images of Viktor Krum, chanting slogans in a language Harry couldn't understand.
"Wow!" Harry's eyes widened, nearly bumping into an old wizard dragging a self-propelled suitcase. "There are more people here than in Diagon Alley!"
"But the lack of effective management," Hermione commented, carefully avoiding a purple stain left by some kind of magical drink. "With so many people, fire safety and sanitation are both problems—"
They followed the directions Mr. Weasley had given them and headed toward the larger open space in the center of the camp.
From a distance, they could see several exceptionally tall and ornately decorated open tents standing on the open ground, clearly temporary shops set up by the government or a large chamber of commerce.
The colorful signs shimmered under the spell, selling everything from binoculars with "panoramic tracking and slow-motion replay!" to team souvenirs like the "Bulgarian Lion's Roar Badge with adjustable volume!"
The crowds were even denser here, with shouts of vendors, flashes of magic being tested, and laughter rising and falling.
In the heart of this bustling scene, a particularly impressive tent, predominantly dark blue and silver, caught Harry's eye.
The tent was made of what looked like some kind of waterproof silk, which shimmered softly in the evening light, and a flag embroidered with a clenched fist pointing to the sky fluttered at the top of the tent.
There were no loud vendors hawking their wares at the entrance of the tent; instead, everything seemed orderly, and most of the people coming in and out appeared to be well-dressed or carrying high-quality magical items.
What slowed Harry down the most was that through the open tent entrance, he glimpsed a spacious area divided into several sections. In one section, a large group of people were gathered around several huge tables, holding cards covered in patterns, and were intently engaged in battles. Occasionally, small, harmless light effects would burst from the cards.
There are also display cases nearby, which display beautifully crafted cards and unusual game pieces.
"Look over there! It's the Stone Tower Merchant Guild!" Ha nudged Ron with his elbow, lowered his voice, and gestured towards the tent with his chin. "Looks like there's a table where you can play wizard card games..."
Ron looked over too, his eyes lighting up: "Oh! Look, is that a rare card from the 'Monster' expansion? Let's go check it out!"
Hermione glanced over curiously, then stopped her, saying, "Ron! We need to get some water first; Mrs. Weasley is waiting."
"Yes, yes, let's get some water first." Ron replied, but his eyes were still lingering on the tent.
"After lunch," Ron said, squeezing his way towards the public water tap with Hermione, already planning ahead, "we absolutely have to come check this out! Maybe we can try out a couple of games, or at least see those rare cards!"
The process of fetching water allowed Harry and Hermione to once again witness the difference between wizards and Muggles.
Near a public water tap, a Ministry of Magic official was earnestly trying to persuade an elderly wizard to change into normal men's clothing.
Upon seeing a middle-aged man wearing a floral nightgown, Hermione ran off to laugh, only returning after the wizard had left.
After finally filling several large buckets with clean water, they carefully carried them and began to walk back.
As they navigated through the increasingly crowded and noisy maze of tents, they kept running into acquaintances.
Several Hogwarts classmates greeted them excitedly and introduced their families to them.
Just as they said goodbye to their classmates and walked past a tent shaped like a giant golden thief, which attracted many people to take pictures, a familiar tall figure came into view.
He was alone, making famous hand gestures to a miniature goalkeeper doll that was enchanted, floating in the air and constantly changing his save moves, his expression so focused that he seemed oblivious to the deafening noise around him.
"Wood!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.
Oliver Wood turned his head sharply, his serious expression instantly replaced by a bright smile.
"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" He strode over and slapped Harry hard on the shoulder, almost making him drop the bucket. "Merlin, I never expected to run into you guys at this time! Came to watch the finals?"
"Of course!" Ron said. "What are you doing here? Oh, by the way, you're a professional player now!" His tone was full of envy.
Wood puffed out his chest, a proud look on his face: "Pudemere United, substitute goalkeeper." He pointed to an inconspicuous team badge on his jacket. "Still getting used to it. The training volume and pace of a professional team are completely different from school, but it's exciting! Trust me, a starting position won't be far away."
Harry was genuinely happy for his old captain: "That's wonderful, Wood! Congratulations!"
Ron's curiosity was piqued, and he pressed on, "You must have had a lot of teams wanting you when you graduated, right? So you chose Pudemir?"
Wood scratched his head, his expression becoming slightly complicated: "Well—actually, there were mainly two choices at the time. One was the Pudmir United Team, and the other—was a newly formed team by the Stone Tower Merchant Guild called the 'Tower Guard.'"
Harry's heart skipped a beat when he heard the words "Stone Tower Merchant Guild".
"Then why did you choose this one?" Harry naturally picked up the conversation and asked, partly out of genuine curiosity, and partly because hearing a name related to Uncle Lynch made him even more eager to understand Wood's thoughts.
Wood sighed, his tone becoming more pragmatic: "Well—Pudmir is a long-established club, with a rich history, a mature training system, medical team, and even a strong fan base. Although I'll have to start from the bench, taking it one step at a time feels like a more stable approach. As for the Stone Tower Chamber of Commerce—" He paused, "their offer is indeed quite good, with higher salaries, and I've heard their training facilities are state-of-the-art, and they have ample funding. But after all, it's a newly formed team with no past achievements, and its future development and management stability are all unknowns. A professional player's career is very short; one wrong step could ruin their prime. After thinking about it, I still feel that traditional powerhouses are more reliable."
His statement was reasonable and entirely based on careful planning for his career.
However, after listening to Wood's analysis, almost without thinking, Harry blurted out, "I think—you should choose the Stone Tower Merchant Guild."
As soon as the words left his mouth, not only Wood was stunned, but Ron and Hermione also looked at Harry in surprise.
Harry himself realized that his words were somewhat abrupt.
Wood blinked in surprise, then chuckled, a hint of curiosity and inquiry in his eyes: "Oh? Harry, you're saying this because you've heard something? Does the Stone Tower team have some secret weapon?" He assumed Harry had obtained inside information through some special channel.
Harry quickly shook his head, his face flushing slightly. "No, no—there's no inside information." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I just—met some people from the Stone Tower Merchant Guild, and they seemed very reliable, and—their vision might be even more far-sighted than it appears."
He couldn't put it more specifically, but his inexplicable confidence was obvious.
Wood's expression shifted to one of realization, then he chuckled, his voice carrying the earnestness of someone with experience, clearly attributing Harry's confidence to the influence of his elders: "Ah, I see. You met with your godfather, Sirius, right? The Black family certainly has extensive connections." He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Harry, I appreciate your good intentions. But choosing a club is a big deal; it requires careful consideration, like studying an opponent's tactics. Even the most powerful figures in the Chamber of Commerce may not know how to run a Quidditch team well. Pudmere may be conservative, but its tradition is a kind of guarantee." He looked at Harry earnestly, his tone sincere. "If you ever go down this path, with your talent, you'll likely remember this: you must consider everything comprehensively, not just rely on gut feeling. It's about your entire career."
Harry felt a little embarrassed by Wood's sincere advice, and at the same time realized that his words had indeed been too subjective.
He didn't want to explain further, simply nodding vaguely and saying, "Yes, you're right, Wood. I didn't think it through. Pudmir United is great too, I sincerely wish you a speedy start!"
Wood laughed and patted him hard on the shoulder: "Good luck to you too, Harry! Lead Gryffindor well next term! I believe in you! Alright, I won't keep you any longer, go back now, your buckets look pretty heavy."
After saying goodbye to Wood, the three continued walking back.
Ron couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "Harry, why did you say that? Is it because of Professor Lynch?"
Harry, carrying the bucket, shook his head, somewhat puzzled as to where his earlier certainty came from: "—I don't know, maybe it was just a feeling. But Wood is right, choosing a team is a big deal, and his choice must have been carefully considered."
Let's go back, Mrs. Weasley must be getting impatient.
Diagon Alley, top floor of the Stone Tower Chamber of Commerce headquarters.
The office's floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of London, while the constant cool lighting creates a magical atmosphere that isolates the office from the passage of time.
Lynch and Reggie sat facing each other, separated by a gleaming dark wooden table with a complex magical map spread out on it, meticulously marking every area of the Quidditch World Cup camp and arena.
Lin Qi's posture was relaxed, but there was no ease in his dark eyes, only cold focus.
Reggie's figure was almost invisible under his large gray robe. His voice came through the fabric, hoarse and steady, lacking the inflection of a normal person's speech: "Mr. A's combat team has infiltrated the camp in three batches under different identities as planned. The last batch arrived this morning. Their disguises and contingency plans have been confirmed, and they have successfully docked with our existing observation points within the camp."
Lin Qi nodded slightly, tapping on several locations on the map representing pure-blood family gathering areas: "Have you shared the locations of Nott, Carol, and Avery's tents and their recent activity patterns with the team?"
"Real-time updates." Reggie's voice was flat. "Intelligence Department monitoring shows that their movements are consistent with the previously obtained plan. They will most likely launch their attack after the Quidditch match, when the fans begin to celebrate or vent their anger, which is when the Ministry of Magic's security is least focused."
"Have the details and methods of 'our assistance' been specified down to the individual level?" Lin Qi pressed.
"That's clear," Reggie replied. "Seven key intervention points have been pre-planned, covering everything from creating small-scale chaos to attract attention to ensuring their destructive energy release channels remain open. The executors understand the ironclad rule: push the event forward, but never become a direct source of harm. All pre-planned scenarios include immediate assessment and braking mechanisms; if the situation risks spiraling out of control and causing casualties, assistance will be suspended immediately, and a covert defense will be deployed."
Lynch's gaze swept across the locations on the map that represented the Ministry of Magic's security forces and first aid stations.
"What are the rescue strategies, manpower, and contingency plans, in the event of chaos?"
"The support personnel temporarily dispatched by the logistics department are in place, disguised as ordinary wizard volunteers, itinerant vendors, and even intoxicated football fans," Reggie reported. "They are carrying treated medical supplies and makeshift protective gear. Their mission is to conduct rapid screening and initial aid in the affected areas as quickly as possible, before official forces can fully respond. The focus is on the lone individuals, children, and Muggle families showing signs of panic. The operational principle is: quick in and quick out, leaving no trace."
"Very good." Lin Qi leaned back slightly, the chair back making a soft creak. "How is the cooperation regarding the separation of the Chamber of Commerce?"
This is the deeper core of the entire plan.
The riots at the World Cup were not only a response to the provocations of the purebloods, but also created a chaotic backdrop for the First Order to escape unscathed.
"As you instructed, the downsizing is proceeding simultaneously." Reggie's hoarse voice remained steady, but the report concerned the quiet dismantling of a behemoth. "On Mr. M's side, the first phase of the transfer of non-core business lines" has begun, targeting two of the Nott family's agents within the Chamber of Commerce. "The process deliberately created some management oversights and handover difficulties," consistent with their expectations that we were distracted by the World Cup and experiencing internal fatigue. They accepted it readily and without suspicion."
"What is the status of our personnel evacuation?"
The first batch of key technical personnel and backbone members on the priority list have left their original positions this week under the pretext of "sending them on overseas training," "taking leave for family reasons," or "business expansion for the Chamber of Commerce," and have entered designated safe houses or changed their identities.
The Oversight Department ensures that all departure traces are natural and free from any irregular or unsustainable magical auditing.
Lynch tapped his fingers lightly on the table, making a rhythmic tapping sound.
"What about the transfer of funds and supplies?"
"Gringotts' routine cash flow shows no abnormalities. Large-scale, sensitive transfers are being conducted through seven backup channels, and the progress is in line with expectations. Following your principle of 'better to abandon than to expose,' we have abandoned three properties and associated warehouses with high valuations but excessive transfer risks; related losses have been included in planned costs," Reggie reported. "The core components and maintenance team of the newsboard master board are under the highest level of protection and ready for transfer, and the final separation process can be initiated at any time. The independence of the news section is 80% complete; the remaining part will be completely severed from the Chamber of Commerce's overt data connections around the finals date, and taken over by the Intelligence Department's underground network."
"Ten months." Lynch slowly repeated the timeframe. "Time is tight, but it must be completed. The chaos of the World Cup is a crucial window for us to accelerate our dismantling and divert external attention. We need to keep everyone focused on the riots at the stadium and camp, on the restless pure-blood families, on the Ministry of Magic's inept response—no one will notice that a commercial empire is quietly evaporating from its core."
"Understood," Reggie replied. "All steps have entered the final confirmation stage."
Lynch's gaze returned to the camp on the magic map, a symbol of revelry and potential storm, a cold glint reflected deep within his dark eyes.
"Then let this play out according to the written script," he said calmly, his voice echoing clearly in the top-floor office.