HP Magic Biography

Ron took out his telescope and began to test it. Use it to look at people on the other side of the stadium

"It's so exciting!" Ron said, spinning the **** beside him, "I can make the old guy keep grabbing his nose, time and time again."

At the same time, Hermione was eager to browse her velvet-covered program schedule, and expressed Hermione's views to Fanlin about it.

"The team's mascot will be displayed before the game." Hermione read aloud.

"Sorry, it's always worth seeing," Mr. Weasley said. "Did you know? The national team brought creatures from their home country and displayed them on this ground."

"The creatures brought by my own country, I thought it was a stupid idiot riding on it." Fanlin whispered, and he recalled the silly look of Krum riding on the broomstick.

"Brilliant and powerful?" Hermione frowned. "How come, this is the Quidditch World Cup."

"..." Fanlin curled her lips, and Hermione was not asking either. The girl didn't take this sentence to heart. Although Fanlin was a little strange, the girl knew enough about Fanlin.

After half an hour, the number of people in the box gradually increased, and everyone sat around them.

Weasley kept shaking hands with the wizards who were obviously important people.

Percy often jumped up, as if sitting on a sting. When the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge arrived, Percy bowed deeply, causing his glasses to fall to the ground and shattered.

He was very embarrassed to fix it with his wand. Since then, he has sat obediently in his seat. When he saw Connelly greet Harry and Fanlin like an old friend, he looked at them with jealousy.

The three of them had met before, and Fudge was the same, shook hands with Harry kindly, asked him what he was doing, and introduced him to the wizards on both sides.

"You know Harry Potter," he told the Bulgarian minister aloud.

As for Fanlin, Fanlin’s identity is a bit sensitive. The only grandson of the Chinese Minister of Magic, plus Dumbledore, Fudge didn’t know what to do. After saying hello, Fanlin was selectively ignored. Of course , It's just missing some irrelevant introductions, which fits Fanlin's intentions.

The Bulgarian minister wore a gorgeous black velvet robe with gold trim on the hem and did not seem to understand English.

"Harry Potter, come here. You know who he is. He is the only boy who escaped from'that man'. You must know who he is." Fudge said.

The Bulgarian sorcerer suddenly noticed Harry's scar, and then started pointing at it excitedly and talking loudly.

"We should keep him short," Fudge said to Harry wearily. "I am not good at multilingualism. In this regard, I need Batty Crouch's help. Ah, I see his servant wizard. Give him a place. Well done! These Bulgarian pecks are always clamoring for the best seat... Ah, this is Lucius!"

Harry, Ron, Fanlin and Hermione turned around immediately. Going to the last four empty seats in the second row, right behind Weasley, no one else, it was Dobby's previous owner, Lucius. Malfoy, his son Draco and a woman, Harry guessed it must be Draco's mother. Since they went to Hogwarts together, the two have become enemies.

Draco looked like his father, a pale, pointed boy with platinum blonde hair. His mother is also blond, tall, and very slim. If she hadn't had an expression that seemed to have an unpleasant smell here, she would look very good.

"Ah, Fudge," Mr. Lucius stretched out his hand and shook hands with the Minister of Magic. "How are you? Have you not seen my wife Narcissa and my son Draco?"

"Hello, hello." Fudge said with a smile, and bowed slightly to Mrs. Malfoy. "Let me introduce, this is... Mr. Obronsk, he is Bulgaria’s Minister of Magic, but he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, it’s okay. This is... I’m sure you know him, Ya Ser Weasley."

This is a very stressful moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy look at me personally, and I look at you.

The little guys almost immediately remembered the last time they faced each other.

It was at Lihen Bookstore and they had a fight. Mr. Malfoy's grim, grim eyes scanned Mr. Weasley, then came over.

"Dear Arthur," he said softly, "What did you sell to get this first class ticket? Your house must not be worth that much."

Fudge didn't hear it, and said: "Lucius just donated a large sum of money to the Magical Disease and Disability Hospital of San Mango. He is my guest."

"That's great!" Mr. Weasley smiled reluctantly.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes turned to Hermione again. Hermione blushed and stared at him firmly.

Harry knew exactly what made Mr. Malfoy pout. The Malfoys are extremely proud of their thoroughbred blood. In other words, they think that any Muggle is inferior, like Hermione, who belongs to the second class. However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, he Didn't say anything. He nodded contemptuously at Mr. Weasley, and went on to his seat. Draco gave Harry, Ron, Fanlin, and Hermione a contemptuous look, and then sat down between his father and mother.

"Humble bastard!" Ron murmured.

"Don't care about them, just some clowns." Fanlin said, if Lucius dared to insult Hermione just now, he would definitely fight back in a way that Lucius was satisfied with.

Fanlin did not do this kind of face-slapping less~www.readwn.com~ Facts have proved that Fanlin is quite talented in this aspect.

When several people turned to the square again, for a moment, Neutrogena. Bagmon also entered the box.

"Are everyone ready?" he asked, his round cheese-like face looking excited.

"Minister, can you start?"

"Neutth, you're ready to go," Fudge said softly.

Neutrogen took out his wand, pointed it to his throat, said, "Sonorus!" Then he spoke to the crowd in the stadium.

His voice echoed throughout the stadium, and his voice could be heard from every corner: "Ladies! Gentlemen! Welcome everyone! Welcome to the scene of the Kuadis World Cup Finals!"

The audience screamed, applauded enthusiastically, waving thousands of flags, mixed with their national anthems. The big blackboard opposite them had erased the message-"Bedy Potter's delicious beans-you have to try", and now it says: Bulgaria: zero, Ireland: zero.