“Oh, don’t be so standoffish with me, Aberforth—”

Bryan said with a disarming smile.

“I brought someone to your place, doesn’t that show how much I trust you? This is a compliment to your discretion and reliability.”

“We’re not that close, Watson! Not even remotely!”

Aberforth shouted angrily, his face flushing with indignation. But even as the words left his mouth, it was clear he knew he had no effective way of dealing with Bryan Watson.

Aberforth could only resentfully throw his polishing cloth onto the bar with a sharp slap, muttering curses under his breath as he turned to prepare whiskey for Ludo Bagman with rough, jerky movements.

When Bryan’s gaze finally shifted and fell upon Ludo, a visible trace of discomfort flashed across his normally cheerful face. His smile became somewhat fixed, and artificial.

The last time the two had met was in the outskirts of Edinburgh several months ago, when Bryan had sought him out to inquire about the odds the goblins were offering on Hermione Granger’s competition performance in the Triwizard Tournament.

At that time, during that uncomfortable encounter, Bryan had also caught Ludo in the act of “condescending” to commentate a lowly club-level Quidditch match and accepting payment for it.

As that embarrassing scene flashed vividly through his mind, Ludo groaned privately at his consistently bad luck. It seemed every single time Bryan Watson appeared in his life, the man somehow managed to catch him at his worst, to have some sort of leverage or damning information on him.

“Oh, sorry, am I late, Bryan? I do apologize if I’ve kept you waiting!”

After taking his seat across from Bryan, Ludo looked at him with a smile.

“But you really can’t blame me for the delay, Bryan. The rain was absolutely torrential, worse than I’ve seen in years. On the way here, the railway tracks were completely flooded by mountain torrents coming down from the highlands, and the Hogwarts Express had to stop for quite a while to avoid being washed away. We were stuck there for nearly an hour—thought we might have to swim!”

He laughed nervously at his own joke.

“In that case, it’s I who should apologize, Ludo—”

Bryan responded with smooth courtesy.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come all the way to Hogsmeade in such terrible weather conditions. I hope it didn’t cause you too much trouble or inconvenience?”

“Oh, not at all, not at all! These things happen. Thank you, Aberforth!”

Ludo reached out eagerly to take the generously filled glass from the stone-faced, scowling Aberforth. He took a hearty, grateful drink, the liquid burned pleasantly down his throat, helping to chase away the chill from his rain-soaked journey.

“So, we’re here to discuss the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, right, Bryan? The final event?”

Ludo’s voice dropped slightly, taking on a more serious tone tinged with anxiety.

“Oh, honestly, this whole situation has become quite the burden at the Ministry, a real headache for everyone involved. You know exactly why—the second task was a complete and utter disaster, an absolute catastrophe that no one wants to remember. Everyone’s avoiding the subject like dragon pox, pretending it never happened—”

Ludo drank deeply again, more nervously this time, his expression turned genuinely dejected as uncomfortable memories appeared.

“If you hadn’t insisted on pushing forward with the third task, the whole tournament would have fallen apart completely. We would have had to refund ticket sales, deal with international embarrassment. I need to thank you for that, Bryan. Truly. Without you and your determination, what on earth would I have done with all the galleons I’d invested in the outcomes?”

He laughed shakily, wiping his damp forehead.

Watching Ludo celebrate the fact that the third task could proceed smoothly, watching him focus wholly on gambling returns, Bryan couldn’t help but feel a certain awkward amount of “respect” for the man’s remarkable focus.

Regarding whether Voldemort had truly returned to the wizarding world, most wizards held onto desperate wishful thinking.

While they generally acknowledged that Dumbledore was a remarkable wizard, they all secretly hoped he was simply senile on this particular matter. Though deep down, in their hearts, they probably knew the terrible truth.

But whether they genuinely believed it or not, whether they accepted reality or hid from it, everyone paid obsessive attention to this matter, because they understood it would completely upend their comfortable lives if true.

The Ludo Bagman sitting before him now was much simpler in his concerns, refreshingly uncomplicated. Bryan could see absolutely no worry about impending war in the man whatsoever, no concern for the larger political situation. He still only cared about his gambling operations, his betting pools, and his precious gold galleons.

Nothing else seemed to register as important.

Rustle—

Bryan reached into his robes and shook out a piece of official-looking parchment he’d produced from an inner pocket. He casually tossed it onto the wooden table between them with nonchalance.

“Let’s save those grateful words and lavish thanks for later, Ludo. First, take a good look at this document—”

“Oh—”

Ludo immediately reached for the parchment on the table, his expression turned bright with interest and curiosity about what Bryan might show him.

“What’s this, Bryan? I’m guessing it’s the design proposal for the third task— What?!”

The previously enthusiastic Ludo picked up the parchment and glanced at it casually, then immediately froze. His entire body went rigid as if he’d been struck by a Stunning Spell. He acted as if he’d seen something absolutely incredible.

He sat up stiff straight from his previously relaxed, slouched position against the chair back. Squinting hard, he began reading the dense text word by careful word by the flickering, inadequate candlelight on the table, his lips moving silently. He occasionally looked up sharply to stare at Bryan with wide, disbelieving eyes, then back down to reread sections.

“He-he, how about it, Ludo? Do you like this surprise?”

Bryan laughed softly, his voice low and smooth, carrying satisfaction.

“This is…”

Ludo rubbed his eyes hard with his free hand as if trying to clear his vision, practically pressing his flushed face against the parchment now. He was carefully studying whether the official seal at the bottom of the document—the Gringotts seal was somehow forged by Bryan.

“If you don’t believe it’s genuine, Ludo—”

Bryan said calmly, watching the man’s rising excitement with cool detachment.

“You can verify its authenticity directly with the goblins at Gringotts. Visit them yourself. They’ll confirm everything.”

His voice became quieter, more meaningful.

“In any case, your account with the goblins is completely settled now. They can never use it to threaten you again, can never hold it over your head or send collectors after you.”

The violent trembling of Ludo’s hand as he clutched the parchment was proof enough of how excited and overwhelmed, he was at that moment. His breathing had become audibly ragged.

“Did you… Bryan, how did you…?”

There’s no such thing as a free help in this world, and Ludo, who had survived in the complex wizarding world for many years and held high positions in his prime, couldn’t fail to understand this basic truth. Nothing came without a price.

Ludo stared at the composed Bryan sitting across from him, his expression turning uncertain, then worried, then almost fearful. The money he’d borrowed from the goblins over the years wasn’t just a thousand or two Galleons—it was a staggering sum, accumulated through countless bad bets and desperate attempts to win it all back!

“You—you want, if you’re planning to—”

Without realizing it, Ludo’s breathing became heavy and strenuous, almost wheezing. Water slowly dripped from his temples, running down his flushed cheeks—whether it was residual rainwater from outside or fresh sweat from stress, he couldn’t tell anymore.

An unspecified sense of fear arose in Ludo’s heart, creeping through his chest like ice water.

“You want me to persuade the Minister, don’t you? Not to let that dreadful woman Umbridge come to Hogwarts to cause trouble?”

Ludo said anxiously, the words were tumbling out in a rush.

“Bryan, you may have—you may have backed the wrong horse this time. I don’t have that kind of influence anymore.”

“Do you know what a lottery is, Ludo?”

To Ludo’s complete astonishment and confusion, Bryan didn’t say a single word about having him interfere with the Minister’s will or political plans. Instead, he asked this seemingly random question completely out of the blue.

“Lottery?”

Ludo blinked rapidly in genuine confusion.

“What’s that… some kind of book? A publication? I’ve never heard of it.”

Bryan leaned back comfortably in his chair and spoke casually, as if explaining something in idle conversation.

“It’s normal not to know about it, Ludo. It’s a Muggle thing, from their world… somewhat like those gambling contracts you sign with the goblins, actually. Generally issued by Muggle official institutions acting as bookmakers, predicting the process and outcome of an event beforehand—sports matches, elections, that sort of thing. It’s completely legal and regulated by their governments.”

Bryan shrugged casually, as if the topic had just occurred to him randomly.

“I was just thinking about this recently, given that there was such a major accident in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. You—oh, of course not just you personally, but probably many, many people throughout the wizarding world are all desperately hoping the tournament can proceed smoothly to its conclusion, if only for the sake of the galleons they’ve wagered at various betting shops and with the goblins—”

Looking at Ludo, whose eyes were growing more and more brighter with each word, Bryan continued in that same thoughtful, pensive tone, as if thinking out loud.

“Gambling is indeed a source of entertainment and excitement for many wizards across all social classes… but currently, the Ministries of Magic in various countries seem to completely lack effective control over this lucrative area. They’re letting it run completely wild, unregulated. All the substantial profits are being seized by goblins and some rather unpleasant underground forces—”

Shaking his head with exaggerated regret, as if lamenting a missed opportunity, Bryan looked at Ludo with careful anticipation in his expression.

“If the Ministry of Magic could reach a mutually beneficial consensus with the Quidditch League, both national and international branches and introduce the Muggle lottery format officially, with proper supervision and regulation…

Well, this would bring excellent, steady returns for both the Ministry’s coffers and all parties involved in the league. And it would also provide a safe, reliable, legitimate gambling platform for those wizards who love to seek thrills in betting. What do you think, Ludo? Does that sound appealing?”

Ludo opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Bryan clicked his tongue thoughtfully and smiled with apparent innocence.

“Tsk, tsk, a sports lottery system. If this could actually work, if it could be implemented… it should naturally fall under the Department of Magical Games and Sports’ jurisdiction, shouldn’t it? Your department, Ludo. I think a brand new office should be established specifically to manage this operation.”

A government department specifically for gambling, completely above board, without personal financial risk, operating under the umbrella of the Department of Magical Games and Sports…

Ludo stared at Bryan in an absolute daze, his mouth hanging slightly open. His lips were moving, clearly wanting to say something, to voice the thoughts exploding in his mind, but he seemed completely unable to produce actual words.

His brain had short-circuited.

“You know, Bryan, I’ve never had much personal ambition in my life, never wanted power or prestige particularly…”

Ludo finally managed to speak, his voice was hoarse with emotion. He swallowed hard.

“Oh, all right, I agree! I’ll talk to the Minister personally, arrange a private meeting. Putting Umbridge into Hogwarts is pure nonsense, absolute foolishness! I’ll tell him exactly that!”

Ludo gasped, trying to catch his breath. He glanced again at the parchment still clutched tightly in his trembling hand—his certificate of freedom from the goblins’ threats, his salvation from years of fear.

“Yes, you’ve completely convinced me, Bryan… Oh, you’re a devil, you know that? An absolute devil!”

He laughed shakily, nervously.

“I never like getting involved in these political troubles, these complicated schemes. I’m a simple man. But tell me, tell me honestly—how do you actually plan to implement what you just proposed?

In my view, yes, it’s indeed a brilliant idea, potentially revolutionary. But under current circumstances, with the way things are, the Minister won’t agree with your suggestion. He’s not thinking rationally right now. And if you want to push this through properly, you’ll also need to get the formal consent of the International Quidditch Association. Those people are notoriously difficult.”

“Don’t rush ahead of yourself, Ludo. Don’t worry about obstacles.”

Bryan’s voice was smooth, confident, utterly certain.

“This will definitely happen in the second half of this year, I can guarantee it… The Minister of Magic won’t be an obstacle to this plan for much longer. As for the International Quidditch Association—of course, you’re right, they’ll definitely fight hard for more profit, demand larger percentages. There will be many difficult negotiations. So—”

Bryan smiled with calculated generosity.

“I’ll represent Hogwarts in claiming a modest share of the Quidditch lottery profits for the school. And in exchange for my entry into this arrangement, I can authorize the World Cup organizing committee to use my Omnioculars technology to broadcast matches worldwide…

That’s also a very considerable, extremely valuable income stream. Given this substantial concession, this gift I’m offering, I believe they’ll make some reasonable concessions in return. Also—”

Bryan stood up smoothly from his chair, indicating with his body language that this somewhat hurried, intense conversation was coming to an end.

“I need to correct one of your misunderstandings, Ludo. I’m not asking you to mediate or interfere with Fudge’s plan to send Umbridge into Hogwarts. Umbridge getting into Hogwarts is impossible—it will never happen, I can promise you that. Though if she wants to get into Azkaban instead, I could certainly help arrange that.

I asked to meet with you today simply to…”

Bryan looked down at Ludo, and the sharp gleam in those intense purple eyes made Ludo shudder despite the warmth of the whiskey in his belly. He asked timidly,

“Then… then for what?”

“Simply to… gain your support, Ludo.”

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