Harry Potter: Transmigrated Detective Link

"John came too?"

Of course Link understood what Cedric meant when he said this, so he followed along with the topic.

"Yeah! Since he was the best-performing player on my team last term, I couldn't just shortchange him. So I asked my dad to get him a ticket too."

Cedric smiled gently, then turned his head toward a nearby vendor stall and shouted, "John! Come over here quick!"

Cedric had used a Sonorus Charm when calling out, so while it didn't sound harsh to those nearby, his voice carried very far.

In no time, a boy came jogging over, completely decked out in Irish Quidditch team gear, even with green face paint in the shape of their crest smeared across his cheeks.

"Cedric, you'd better have something important, otherwise even if you are my captain I swear I'll fight you! You know what you cost me? Because you yelled like that, I missed my chance at grabbing the limited edition Gold Snitch model from Godeli!"

John grumbled loudly as he walked, his expression showing his anger was the real deal.

But when he reached Link and the others, his angry face suddenly switched to pure joy.

He first gave Link an excited hug, then turned to Mrs. Flamel and exclaimed, "Merlin! You must be Mrs. Flamel! Link wasn't lying, you're so young and beautiful!"

Seeing John, who had barged in like a clueless fool, Mr. Weasley broke out in a nervous sweat.

With so many of his own kids in Hogwarts, he naturally knew John's secret, that he was Muggle-born.

That was exactly why he was nervous.

In the whole British wizarding world, no one understood better than him just how badly the pure-blood aristocrats looked down on Muggles.

Don't be fooled by the noble airs those families put on in public, behind closed doors, they still scorned Muggles, not even considering them human, more like ants crawling underfoot.

That same contempt and hostility extended to Muggle-born wizards.

If this was how things were in general society, then for someone like Mrs. Flamel, a noblewoman with a dark wizard family background, it was even more so.

And yet here was John, this fool, barging in and speaking to her uninvited.

If this had been the Malfoys, he'd already be tied up and given a proper "lesson."

But the Flamels were even stronger and tougher than the Malfoys.

Which was exactly why Mr. Weasley thought their response to something like this would be even harsher.

Thinking this, Mr. Weasley instinctively leaned forward, wanting to save this boy from the disaster he was about to face.

But his own fear made his movements terribly slow.

Meanwhile John stood wide-eyed, stunned, as though truly shocked by Mrs. Flamel's presence.

Link, standing beside him, just shook his head with a smile and said, "Mum, this is my roommate. You can just call him John."

John was a simple, openhearted sort of fellow.

Otherwise, back when Link had just crossed over into this world, John never would have been the first roommate to talk to him, when everyone else was terrified of him.

And Mrs. Flamel, hearing John's rather blunt comment, did freeze up for a second. But after Link's introduction she came to, and her stern, somber demeanor suddenly softened into a smile as she praised John back.

She was always like this, treating Link's friends kindly. She knew her son's nature well enough to understand he wouldn't have many true friends.

From there, everything went smoothly.

John, being easygoing, kept the mood lively. With help from him and the others, Mrs. Flamel laughed more often, and the atmosphere became cheerful.

The Weasleys quietly slipped away, Mr. Weasley casting confused looks over his shoulder as they left.

He couldn't understand why a pure-blood noblewoman like Mrs. Flamel, with her shady dark-wizard family roots, would suddenly seem so… approachable.

Luckily no one paid attention to them.

With the good mood set, Link and the others dove back into the market for another round of chaotic shopping.

They didn't actually buy much, just browsing for fun.

Cedric showed restraint too, polite and well-mannered, which made his father Amos Diggory so proud he couldn't stop smiling.

The real shopping champion turned out to be young Rolf.

Once he realized Link wasn't limiting his spending on Quidditch merchandise, he went all out, soon dressing himself up as a die-hard fan just like John. He looked like some hardcore anime convention-goer from later generations, completely covered in merch.

The only catch was, John supported Ireland, while Rolf supported Bulgaria. And those two teams just happened to be facing off for the World Cup title that very night. So, naturally, the two started bickering.

This was the first time Link saw John actually lose his temper.

Rolf couldn't out-argue John, but for the sake of his "belief," he stubbornly held his ground. Soon he was red-faced, tongue-tied, and even started crying.

Not wanting the others to see his embarrassment, Rolf stormed to the front of the group to sulk alone.

Everyone behind him snickered, covering their mouths.

Feeling guilty, John hurried to catch up and comfort him. No use, Rolf angrily shoved his hand off his shoulder.

In the end, John clenched his teeth and spent the last of his pocket money on a Bulgarian Bludger toy, offering it with both hands. That finally brought a smile back to Rolf's face.

"Kids are the worst! When I get married, I'm never having children!"

Back in line, John gritted his teeth and muttered this to Link.

So the day passed in eating, drinking, and fooling around. By nightfall, Link and the others lit their wand tips with Lumos and headed for the stadium.

The surrounding facilities were terrible, most of it borrowed from Muggle campsites.

But the stadium itself was clearly something the Ministry had put great effort into.

The moment Link drew close, he was stunned by the towering golden walls, reaching into the clouds, covered in intricate, elegant carvings.

Crowds of oddly dressed, noisy wizards already packed the area outside, eager to get in.

Sweating Ministry workers struggled to keep order, herding witches and wizards from all over the world into lines.

But with their top-class tickets, Link and his group didn't need to squeeze with the masses. Cedric and his father benefited too, tagging along as they passed through a special entrance straight into the stadium.

"This place can hold a full hundred thousand! The Ministry spent an entire year with five hundred workers building it."

"They cast Muggle-Repelling Charms on every inch of land here, so any Muggle that comes close suddenly remembers something urgent and runs off…"

Mr. Diggory introduced the stadium with great pride.

And it really was something to boast about.

Even the Bird's Nest, the largest stadium Link knew from the modern world, could only normally seat eighty thousand, one hundred thousand in emergencies.

Yet the Ministry, with just five hundred wizards, built this in a single year.

John, being Muggle-born, knew exactly how insane that was. Ever since Mr. Diggory started explaining, his jaw had been hanging open.

Link, on the other hand, felt a wave of emotion.

Magic really was terrifying, not just in combat, but in construction and production too.

For five hundred skilled Ministry wizards, building a stadium like this wasn't difficult at all.

What Mr. Diggory was truly proud of wasn't the stadium itself, but the massive project of layering Muggle-Repelling Charms over the entire site, that had been the real challenge.

"Top-class tickets! VIP box! Please keep going up, Madam Flamel."

At the end of the special passage, a smiling Ministry witch guided them toward a carpeted staircase, lined with deep purple-red.

Link nodded and led the group upward, soon stepping into a private box.

It was at the very top of the stadium, directly facing the golden goalposts.

Inside were rows of gilded purple chairs, dozens of them, neatly arranged.

Instead of sitting down, Link strolled to the edge and looked out.

Tens of thousands of wizards were still filing into seats around the oval pitch, which rose in steep tiers.

The entire place shimmered with golden light, as if glowing from within the field itself.

The pitch was smooth and flat like velvet, with three scoring hoops standing tall at either end, nearly level with Link's vantage point.

Above hung a massive black screen, flashing golden letters advertising products like "Mrs. Skower's Magical Mess Remover, Removes stains with ease!"

It was one of the Ministry's profit schemes. Even the Flamel family had paid to display some ads, just 1,000 Galleons for ten loops, dirt cheap considering the one hundred thousand people watching.

Link smirked inwardly at the Ministry's lack of business sense, then finally pulled back his gaze.

By now, more guests were arriving in the box.

Mr. Weasley bustled in first with his noisy family.

The moment he saw Link's group, his smile faltered, and he quickly led them to seats in the corner.

More pure-blood nobles streamed in afterward, Link recognized many from his award ceremony.

They too spotted Link, and rushed over with warm smiles and handshakes.

Normally this would've been awkward, Mrs. Flamel disliked casual contact with people she wasn't close to, so polite greetings usually stalled out there. That was part of her reputation for being "cold."

But now that Link himself had become accomplished, representing the Flamel family, everyone eagerly shifted their attention to him instead.

One by one, they shook Link's hand enthusiastically.

Meanwhile, the Weasleys sat uncomfortably to the side, completely ignored.

Well, almost ignored.

Because although Link was smiling and shaking hands, his eyes kept flicking toward their side.

To be precise, toward Harry.

Harry was chatting with a house-elf.

That was rare, since house-elves almost never showed up openly at public events. Their way was to serve quietly, unseen.

But this house-elf was Winky, the servant of none other than Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Next to her sat an empty chair. Whenever someone tried to sit there, Winky would insist, "That's Mr. Crouch's seat," and shoo them away.

But Link alone knew the truth, that seat wasn't empty at all.

Someone was sitting there, cloaked in the finest invisibility cloak.

Bartemius Crouch Jr., Voldemort's most loyal servant, and the son of Bartemius Crouch himself.

Why he was here was a long, complicated story. Link's memory of it was already hazy, only recalling that it was tragic.

But he did remember this, soon, Bartemius Jr. would slip free from his father's control, return to Voldemort, and directly cause the Dark Lord's resurrection.

Right now, if Link ripped off that cloak, he could send Bartemius Jr. straight back to Azkaban, altering the story.

But after the Pettigrew incident, Link knew the Ministry couldn't be trusted.

If he acted rashly, it might just set Bartemius free for good.

Not yet.

The time wasn't right.

Soon an opportunity would come.

And when it did, Link would strike himself, Bartemius Crouch Jr. had to die.

Link stared at that empty seat for a long moment, before finally turning away. His smile stayed bright and sunny, but deep in his eyes flickered a cold, murderous light.

"Ah! Good evening, everyone!"

Cornelius Fudge had arrived, still looking like a jolly Buddha, beaming at the room.

At once, nearly everyone in the box, except Link and Mrs. Flamel's group, leapt to their feet in respect for the Minister of Magic.

Percy Weasley even bowed deeply. But stuck in the far back, Fudge never even noticed him.

Percy, the third Weasley son, was unlike his brothers, utterly obsessed with power, worshipping politicians like Fudge.

Perhaps he bowed too low, because his glasses fell and shattered on the floor.

Fred and George, who'd always hated Percy's pretentious airs, roared with laughter.

Finally, Fudge glanced over, frowning when he spotted Percy bent in an awkward pose, backside in the air as he searched for his glasses. With a grimace, Fudge quickly looked away.

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