Hogwarts: I will not become the Dark Lord

As the afternoon quietly slipped away, an unspeakable excitement, like a materialized cloud, gently swept through the campsite, immersing every corner in jubilation. At dusk, even the tranquil summer air seemed to hold its breath, trembling slightly.

As night fell like a deep curtain, shrouding the eager gazes of thousands of wizards, the final facade collapsed with a bang: the Ministry of Magic seemed to tacitly approve of this carnival, no longer interfering with the campers' celebration, allowing sparks of magic to bloom brilliantly and uninhibitedly around them.

At this moment, illusion-Apparating vendors descended from the sky every few steps within the campsite, holding trays and pushing carts, laden with all kinds of cheering items. There were rose-shaped badges that shone with strange light, green representing Ireland's vitality and red symbolizing Bulgaria's fiery passion, they could even shout out the names of the players from both countries in shrill voices.

On the green top hats, light clovers swayed in the wind, and on the Bulgarian-style ribbons, the lion patterns were lifelike, occasionally emitting majestic roars. The national flags of the two countries danced in the breeze, each wave accompanied by the melodious tune of their respective national anthems.

"Hurry, Jerry!" Harry hurriedly turned his head and saw Jerry and Hermione being attracted by a strange commodity on a stall vendor's cart. He couldn't help but quicken his pace and urged, "We have to get into the stadium soon!"

"You go ahead," Jerry said with a smile, waving to Harry, "Hermione and I will be there soon, we'll come find you!"

Hearing this, Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley and the others, who were already some distance ahead, and reluctantly nodded, then quickened his pace to catch up.

"These are Omnioculars, only ten Galleons each!" A wizard vendor with a beaming smile enthusiastically introduced, "Not only can they capture the game footage, but they can also play it back in slow motion, and quickly present game analysis at crucial moments. They are definitely the perfect companion for watching the game."

Hermione gently opened her purse, counting the gold Galleons inside. Although Mr. Granger had exchanged a lot of gold Galleons for her at Gringotts before departure, she couldn't help but frown at the expensive price: "Ten Galleons... that's a bit expensive."

However, Jerry didn't hesitate to take out twenty Galleons and handed them to the vendor, saying, "Give me two."

Hermione quickly grabbed Jerry, reminding him in a low voice, "Jerry, it's really not worth it... and I have money."

"It's okay," Jerry said with a smile, shaking his head, stuffing a pair of Omnioculars into Hermione's hand, "Even if you think it's not practical or you don't like it later, I can sell it to a Slytherin student after school starts. They are all pure-blood families, everyone has money, and they should be willing to buy this kind of thing!"

Afterwards, Jerry and Hermione selected a series of badges, national flags, team models, and exquisite player statues and other cheering items, intending to give them as a thank-you gift for the Weasley family's ticket.

Just then, a low and sonorous gong sounded faintly from the depths of the woods, like a summons of an ancient ritual. Immediately afterwards, thousands of lights suddenly bloomed like stars among the treetops, intertwined with red and green, adorning the winding path leading to the stadium like a dream.

"The time has come!" Jerry said, as the wizards also accelerated their convergence towards the stadium, "Let's hurry up and find Mr. Weasley!"

Holding their respective spoils, they hurried through the woods along this path of light woven from lanterns. All around, the footsteps of thousands of wizards crisscrossed, intertwined with laughter and melodious songs, intermittent, constituting a grand prelude.

After about ten minutes, they caught up with Harry and the Weasley family, who were talking and laughing loudly ahead. The group walked out of the end of the woods side by side, and suddenly the view opened up—a magnificent stadium stood out, its huge figure shrouded in the night, the golden walls only revealing the tip of the iceberg, but it was enough to shock people. Even ten towering cathedrals could not fill the vast space inside.

"This place can accommodate 100,000 spectators at the same time." Mr. Weasley noticed the astonishment on everyone's faces and proudly explained, "For this day, the Ministry of Magic mobilized 500 staff members and worked hard for a whole year. Moreover, the entire site has been subjected to strict Muggle-Repelling Charms to ensure that Muggles cannot get close. Once a Muggle accidentally approaches, they will immediately think that they have an urgent matter to deal with and leave in a hurry. Hopefully, they will be all right."

Mr. Weasley led everyone to the entrance to prepare for ticketing. The place was already crowded with people, and the wizards were shouting excitedly, the scene was very lively.

"First-class tickets, please go this way." The Ministry of Magic staff member at the entrance checked their tickets and pointed, "Top box, Arthur, you need to go straight up, all the way to the top."

Stepping onto the purple-red carpeted stairs leading to the top of the stadium, as they slowly ascended, the surrounding crowds gradually diverted, pouring into the stands on the left and right sides respectively.

Finally, the group reached the top of the stairs, and the view suddenly opened up—they arrived at an exquisite small box, located at the highest point of the entire venue, facing the golden goalposts. The box was furnished with twenty or so purple and gold-plated chairs, arranged in two rows, appearing both noble and elegant.

Jerry and Hermione followed the Weasley family and took their seats in the front row in an orderly manner. Looking down from above, they saw hundreds of thousands of wizards finding their seats one after another, and the entire stadium presented a magnificent oval shape, with no empty seats.

On both sides of the stadium stood three huge Quaffle hoops, fifty feet high, like the gates of giants; and on their right, exactly at Jerry's eye level, hung a magnificent blackboard, on which golden words leaped and danced like living things, as if an invisible magic pen was waving freely in the air, and then quickly erased the ink from the previous second.

Jerry stared intently, only to realize that these agile words were actually advertisements.

"Jerry," Harry suddenly patted Jerry on the shoulder, his eyes passing over his shoulder, pointing to the seats deep in the box, and lowered his voice, "Look, isn't that Dobby?!"

Jerry followed Harry's guidance and his gaze fell on the second-to-last seat in the back row. There sat a creature with an unusually petite figure, its legs so short that they were almost curled up on the back of the front row chair. It was casually draped in a tea towel, as a robe, its face deeply buried in its palms, but its pair of conspicuous, long ears that spread out like bat wings were very familiar.

Harry got up gently, quietly approached, and gently called out, "Dobby?"

The little fellow slowly raised its head upon hearing this, its hands slowly loosened, revealing a pair of wide-open brown eyes, and a peculiarly shaped nose the size of a ripe tomato.

"Was sir calling Dobby's name just now?" The elf's voice was thin and sharp, seeming more trembling and piercing than Dobby's voice in memory, causing Harry to guess that, although the gender of house-elves was difficult to distinguish, this one might be a lady.

"I'm really sorry," Harry quickly apologized to the elf, "I mistook you for a friend I used to know."

"Sir, I know Dobby too!" a tiny, squeaky voice piped up. She shielded her face with her hand, as if bothered by a strong light, even though the light in the top box was soft and not glaring.

"My name is Winky, and you are…" Her words stopped abruptly as her gaze inadvertently swept over the scar on Harry's forehead. Her dark brown eyes widened instantly, becoming as round as two small plates. "You are Harry Potter?"

"Dobby often mentioned you to me, Mr. Potter!" Winky lowered her hands slightly, her face overflowing with reverence.

"So, how is Dobby doing?" Harry asked with concern. "Has he adjusted well since gaining his freedom?"

"Oh, Mr. Potter," Winky sighed softly, shaking her head. "Please forgive my bluntness, but the freedom you gave Dobby may not be as wonderful as you imagined."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, startled, quickly pressing for more information. "Is something wrong with Dobby?"

"Dobby's heart is filled with longing for freedom, sir," Winky's voice contained a hint of sorrow. "But these dreams are too distant, making it difficult for him to take steps in reality. He can't find suitable work…"

"Why is that?" Harry pressed, puzzled.

Winky lowered her voice, almost whispering: "Because he actually wants to be paid, Mr. Potter."

"Paid?" Harry asked, looking bewildered. "Isn't that only right and proper?"

Winky quickly folded her fingers together, covering most of her face again. She seemed startled by Harry's words.

"In house-elf tradition, we do not ask for payment, sir!" she explained in a shrill voice through her fingers. "I tried to advise Dobby. I said, 'Dobby, find a kind family and live a stable life. Don't wander around like those goblins, or the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures will come after you.'"

Winky covered her face tightly with both hands, speaking earnestly: "A house-elf's mission is to obey every command of their master. Although I have a fear of heights, Harry Potter," she glanced at the edge of the box, involuntarily shuddering, "if my master tells me to come to the top box, I must come."

"He knows you have a fear of heights and still insists you come here?" Harry frowned, his tone full of dissatisfaction and incomprehension.

"Master… he needs me to save seats for him," Winky glanced sideways at the empty seats beside her, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness. "Winky would rather return to Master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky must obey Master's wishes. Winky is an obedient house-elf." She glanced fearfully at the edge of the box again, then quickly covered her eyes tightly.

Seeing this, Harry realized that Winky did not wish to continue the conversation and silently returned to his seat.

"That wasn't Dobby," Harry said, turning to Jerry to recount his encounter with Winky.

"Oh, right, Jerry, aren't you afraid of heights too?" Hermione suddenly remembered, taking Jerry's hand and asking worriedly.

"Don't worry," Jerry smiled, shaking his head. "When you have the ability to fly, the only thing you fear is not flying high enough!"

"I really don't understand," Harry's mood seemed somewhat heavy. "They're both house-elves, so why is there such a huge gap between Winky and Dobby's thinking? Should house-elves really not have the right to receive payment?"

"Wait," Hermione frowned, turning her gaze to Harry. "Do the house-elves at Hogwarts get paid for their work?"

Harry shook his head. Then his gaze naturally fell on Jerry.

"I don't know!" Jerry said perfunctorily. "If they don't, you're not thinking of helping them demand back pay, are you?"

"But, Jerry…" Hermione wanted to say something, but Jerry interrupted her.

Day and night are the same to the blind. Truth and lies are no different to fools. When you remind a fool to beware of swindlers, you offend both the swindler and the fool. The swindler's interests are harmed, and the fool thinks you are insulting his intelligence. So, instead of asking for trouble, it is better to protect yourself.

Jerry gently handed Hermione the lavishly bound program, its velvet cover inlaid with tassels, a smile on his lips as he put his arm around her shoulders and softly comforted her: "Don't let those worries occupy your mind. Don't forget that we came here today to enjoy the match."

For the next half hour, Hermione and Harry fell silent, each immersed in their own thoughts, while the box gradually became noisy with voices.

Soon, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge arrived in the box, followed by the Malfoy family. When Harry saw his nemesis Draco Malfoy, his already somewhat gloomy mood was further clouded.

Lucius Malfoy did not immediately step forward to greet Jerry when he saw him, only nodding politely. He noticed that the girl beside Jerry was not Therese, but a somewhat familiar Hermione. Although he was a little surprised, he didn't make a fuss. He planned to ask Draco about Hermione's identity later.

Draco Malfoy stared blankly at Jerry the whole time, his heart full of confusion. He admitted that Jerry Green was a little bit more handsome than him, but…

How did Jerry Green do it? Last time they met, he saw Jerry Green dancing with Therese. This time, he saw Jerry Green watching the Quidditch match with Granger…

Damn it, what a beast, what a beast!

The most important thing is that Therese and Granger are both Hogwarts students, although they are not in the same house. He wasn't sure if Granger knew about Therese's existence, but Therese definitely knew about Granger's existence. After all, every Slytherin student knew that there was a traitor among them!

So, Therese, you can tolerate this? Open your eyes and look at Jerry Green, this scumbag!

Or… should he expose Jerry Green's true colors to Granger first? As a thought flashed through his mind, Draco couldn't help but shudder. Reason told him that if he really did that, he would die a terrible death!

Forget it, I want to live a few more years. I don't want to die young!

"Potter…" Malfoy's attention was quickly drawn to Harry, his voice carrying a hint of deliberate emphasis. "Thanks to my father's generous donation to the hospital, our family is honored to receive an invitation personally issued by the Minister for Magic."

Lucius and Mr. Weasley exchanged a few sarcastic remarks, but there were no excessive actions. They both maintained a sense of propriety. After all, Fudge was still there, and they had to give him some face.

Draco glared at Harry with a disdainful, provocative look, then haughtily sat back in the seat between his parents.

"That damn Malfoy, what an eyesore, why is he everywhere!" Harry complained in a low voice.

Just then, Ludo Bagman rushed into the box, panting. His round face, illuminated by the lights, resembled a freshly baked spherical cheese.

"Everyone, are you ready?" he shouted excitedly. "Minister, may we begin?"

Seeing Fudge nod, Ludo Bagman quickly drew his wand, pointing it elegantly at his throat, and chanted softly: "Sonorus!"

Instantly, his voice seemed to be endowed with the power of thunder, penetrating every inch of the box, and then surging out like a tide, instantly sweeping across the entire packed, noisy stadium.

The sound echoed beneath the dome, resounding through the sky, clearly transmitted to every corner of the stands, whether at the highest point or the most remote part of the venue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"