0427 Ludo Bagman (Bonus Chapter)

Ludo Bagman was indeed a surprisingly approachable wizard. As the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, he outranked Mr. Weasley in the Ministry by quite a margin. However, Harry couldn’t detect even a hint of haughtiness in his demeanor.

Sirius, caught off guard by Bagman’s unexpected friendliness, stepped forward to shake hands. “Thank you—” he began, a note of hesitation in his voice. “Actually, quite a few people think I’m a complete fool.”

This was true. Since Sirius’s story had come to light, he had been a controversial figure in the wizarding world. Some considered him as a tragic hero, while others saw him as a reckless idiot without a brain.

Sensing the sudden tension, Arthur smoothly interjected, his amiable smile never wavering. “Ludo, let me introduce you to the rest of our party,” he said, gesturing to the group of young wizards clustered around him. “”These are my three sons. The identical ones are Fred and George, this is my youngest boy, Ron, And of course, this is Harry Potter—”

Upon hearing Harry’s name, Bagman showed a slight look of surprise. His eyes immediately darted to the scar on Harry’s forehead. Harry was used to this reaction and didn’t feel offended. He was curious about Ludo Bagman, not because of his high position in the Ministry, but because Ludo had once been a world-famous Quidditch player.

Harry’s mind drifted to his former Quidditch captain at Hogwarts, Oliver Wood, who had graduated with dreams of becoming a professional Quidditch player. Harry himself had considered this option, and becoming a Quidditch player was one of the career choices he didn’t mind exploring.

“As I was saying,” Arthur continued, seemingly oblivious to the momentary awkwardness, “this is Ludo Bagman. You might recognize him from his Quidditch days. We owe these excellent tickets to his generosity—

Bagman beamed, waving his hand as if it were nothing.

Suddenly, Bagman’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. He leaned in lowering his voice to a whisper. “Say, Arthur, fancy a flutter on the match?” he asked eagerly, the jingling of what sounded like a considerable amount of galleons emanating from the pockets of his robes.

“I’ve got quite a few interesting bets going already. Roddy Pontner’s put money on Bulgaria scoring first — gave him some rather nice odds, mind you, considering Ireland’s front three are absolutely formidable this year. And little Agatha Timms, bless her, has wagered half shares in her eel farm on the match lasting a full week!”

Mr. Weasley’s expression wavered between amusement and concern. He was clearly familiar with Bagman’s fondness for gambling, and while he didn’t seem surprised by the invitation, a hint of hesitation crossed his features. After a moment’s deliberation, he reached into his pocket and produced a single gold Galleon.

“Oh… well, I suppose a small wager couldn’t hurt,” he said with a tone of resignation. “Let’s see… how about a Galleon on Ireland to win?”

Bagman’s face fell slightly at the modest bet, but he quickly regained his enthusiasm. “A Galleon it is!” he said, taking out a small, leather-bound notebook and scribbling down the wager with rush. “Any other takers?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the group before landing on Sirius with particular interest.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his initial fondness for Bagman’s approachability rapidly diminishing. It was clear that Bagman had likely deduced from their accommodations that Sirius might have deep pockets, and the idea of being seen as an easy mark didn’t sit well with him.

As Sirius opened his mouth to politely decline, he felt a slight tugging at the back of his robes. Turning, he found Fred and George Weasley looking up at him with pleading expressions, their eyes wide with hope and barely contained excitement.

“You two want to get in on this?” Sirius asked, a note of amusement creeping into his voice.

“No, Fred and George, your mother wouldn’t like to see this, and you’re planning to borrow money from Sirius?” Mr. Weasley frowned, glaring at his two sons disapprovingly.

“Mom burned all our inventions we used to make pocket money. That was months of our hard work!” Fred said, looking aggrieved.

Mr. Weasley’s heart softened immediately. After a few seconds of hesitation, he said tentatively, “Alright, what do you want to bet on? I’ll pay for you—”

Before Mr. Weasley could finish his sentence, Sirius stepped in.

“Let me handle this, Arthur,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. He turned to address the entire group of young wizards, including Harry and Ron. “The Quidditch World Cup is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for many. You should all have the chance to participate fully. How about this – twenty-five Galleons each, and I’ll cover the cost for all of you.”

Harry didn’t have much reaction, but Fred and George immediately cheered. Ron started to cheer too but then hesitated, looking at Sirius uncertainly.

“If I don’t want to participate—” Ron began, his voice trailing off as he wrestled with his pride and his family’s financial situation.

“Ron!” Mr. Weasley called out sternly, and Ron immediately backed down.

“We’ll bet a total of fifty Galleons,” Seizing the moment, Fred turned to Bagman, his eyes shining with excitement. “On Ireland to win — but Viktor Krum catches the Snitch.”

Bagman had been smiling at their exchange all along, but when the twins announced their choice, he looked surprised. “You think Ireland will win but Krum’ll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance… But I’ll tell you what – I’ll give you excellent odds on that one. How about fifteen to one? If you guess right, you’ll be walking away with 750 galleons from me!”

The atmosphere around the group suddenly became electric. Ron’s breathing grew shallow and rapid, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red as he grabbed Harry’s wrist with trembling fingers. “Blimey, Harry,” he whispered urgently, his voice barely audible. “What should we do? Who should we bet on?”

Thanks to the galleons his late parents had left him in Gringotts, Harry had been living quite comfortably these past few years. But several hundred Galleons if they won was still not a small sum for him!

Harry looked to Sirius for help, but Sirius just smiled at him.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you much here, Harry,” Sirius said with a shrug. “You probably know more about current Quidditch than I do. Go with your instincts.”

Bagman, sensing the boys’ hesitation, leaned in closer, his voice taking on a silky, persuasive quality. “I should warn you,” he said, his eyes gleaming, “just betting on Ireland or Bulgaria to win won’t net you much. If you want to walk away with a real treasure trove, you need to make bold, precise predictions!”

Bagman’s tone was like the temptation of a devil, making Ron’s mouth go dry.

“There’s no doubt the Irish will win,” Ron muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Charlie thinks so too. They’ve got the best lineup in years.” He paused, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. “But Lynch… he’s no match for Krum. Krum’s the best Seeker in the world, only eighteen, a proper genius…”

Ron glanced sideways at Fred and George, realizing that his twin brothers’ seemingly ridiculous prediction might actually come true.

Harry, having spent most of the summer trapped at the Dursleys’ and cut off from the wizarding world, found himself at a loss. His knowledge of the teams and players was limited compared to Ron’s passionate expertise. Recognizing this, he decided to follow his friend’s judgment.

“What do you reckon, Ron?” Harry asked, his voice low and encouraging. “You know more about this than I do.”

Ron began to pace back and forth, his brow furrowed in concentration. “If we think about it like this,” he muttered, his words coming faster as his thoughts raced, “the match can’t last very long, can it?”

The others watched in silence as Ron continued his thoughts. For Ron, raised in a family where every Knut was carefully counted, this represented a rare opportunity to potentially change his fortunes. He couldn’t afford to be careless.

After several tense minutes of muttering and pacing, Ron finally returned to the group. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as he faced Bagman.

“Well, young man?” Bagman said kindly, his smile encouraging. “Have you made your decision? Come on, share your thoughts with us. After all, it’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it?”

Ron nodded, a determined look settling over his features. “I agree with Fred and George, I think Ireland will win, but Viktor Krum will catch the Snitch first.”

Fred and George exchanged approving glances, nodding at their younger brother. But Ron wasn’t finished. He continued said with a determined look on his face:

“And I bet the score difference between Bulgaria and Ireland won’t exceed twenty points!”

“Oh, marvelous!” Bagman exclaimed, his face lighting up with glee, as if the fifty Galleons belonging to Ron and Harry were already his. “Those are some very precise bold predictions, my boy. Let’s see… for that combination, I think we can offer odds of twenty to one!”

Bagman’s quill flew across the pages of his notebook as he eagerly recorded their names, the amounts wagered, and the details of their bets. With a curl, he tucked the notebook back into his pocket and turned to Sirius, his eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement.

Sirius, maintaining his composure, reached into his money pouch and withdrew a handful of gleaming gold Galleons. He carefully counted out the agreed-upon amount and handed it over to Bagman, whose pockets now bulged comically with the weight of the coins.

Bagman, perhaps fearing the children might have second thoughts, hurriedly distributed bet receipts to each of them before making his excuses and left.

As the excitement of the moment began to fade, Mr. Weasley turned to find Ron praying clutching the Merlin commemorative coin gifted to him by Professor Watson. Arthur shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness in his expression.

“Don’t be so uptight, Arthur. It’s just to let the kids relax a bit,” Sirius said nonchalantly. “Come on, let’s go inside and get something to eat. You must be starving after waking up at the crack of dawn and trekking such a long way through the countryside.”

Sirius led Mr. Weasley, Harry, and the others into the villa. They passed through the lavishly decorated foyer and navigated several turns in the maze-like corridors before finally reaching the dining room. To their surprise, they discovered that the villa truly lived up to its name. Besides the pool in the front, there was also a small, lush garden at the back.

Remus had taken the initiative to move the heavy oak dining table out into the garden. The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves of ancient trees, casting dappled shadows on the crisp white tablecloth. Hermione and Ginny were already seated, enjoying a hearty breakfast in the serene setting.

The garden’s location, far from the front yard, explained why they hadn’t heard the earlier commotion.

Harry’s emerald eyes widened as he gazed at the mountain of food spread out on the table. His stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl, a stark reminder of just how famished he was. The sight of golden-brown toasted bread, juicy sausages sizzling on a platter, sandwiches bursting with various fillings between soft slices of bread, and a towering pile of pumpkin pasties glistening in the morning light made his mouth water.

Unable to resist the call of such a sumptuous breakfast, and without waiting for Sirius’s formal invitation, the hungry youngsters rushed to the table. They practically threw themselves into the cushioned chairs and Within seconds, the sound of clinking cutlery and enthusiastic chewing filled the air.

Hermione, her bushy hair slightly tamed in the morning humidity, raised an eyebrow at Ron. “What took you lot so long?” she inquired, her tone a mix of curiosity and mild exasperation. Her gaze lingered on Ron, who had managed to stuff a pasty in each hand and was simultaneously gnawing on a particularly large sausage. His cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk’s, making his freckles stand out even more prominently against his flushed skin.

Ron’s blue eyes sparkled with glee as he attempted to swallow his mouthful. After a moment of intense chewing and a gulp that looked almost painful, he managed to clear his throat enough to speak.

“I bet you’d be green with envy if you knew what you missed, Hermione!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled by the remnants of food still in his mouth.

Hearing this cryptic statement, Hermione’s sharp mind immediately went into overdrive. She cast a suspicious glance at Harry, who remained silent, offering no explanation to satisfy her curiosity. Instead, he hunched over a steaming baked potato, focusing intently on his meal.

Sirius, noticing the tension building in the air, decided to intervene before Hermione’s famous persistence could lead to an interrogation. He glanced at Remus, who was also looking at him with undisguised curiosity.

“It’s not that dramatic, Ron—” Sirius began pursing his lips. With a sigh, he gave Remus and the two girls a brief overview of the morning’s events.

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