HP: A Magical Journey

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There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January, and as most Hogwarts students, Quinn was going out of the castle to the all-magical village of Hogsmeade.

Quinn, Marcus, and Eddie left the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds toward the gates. As they passed the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, they saw Viktor Krum emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but swimming trunks. He was very well-built indeed and as tough as he looked because he climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his arms, and dived right into the lake.

“He’s mad!” said Eddie, staring at Krum’s dark head as it bobbed out into

the middle of the lake. “It must be freezing; it’s January!”

“It’s a lot colder where he comes from,” said Marcus. “But still, going swimming in mid-January is a bit too much.”

“Eh, it’s not that cold,” shrugged Quinn. “It’s quite pleasant, actually. If you’re sleepy, it’ll wake you up — a dip in the winter is great for when you’re feeling lethargic.”

The two looked at Quinn as if he had grown a third head, collectively ignore his asinine advice.

Eddie turned to Marcus and replied to his last statement, “Yeah, but there’s still the giant squid,” he didn’t sound anxious — if anything, he sounded hopeful. His team, Trolling Boogeys, after their first loss to Krum’s Treacherous Barons, hadn’t lost a single game — in fact, they had blown the competition away — going as far as to win by double score margins.

Quinn roamed his eyes around the snowy Hogsmeade, and peculiarly he caught a glance of a few goblins before they turned a corner. It wasn’t that goblins weren’t allowed in Hogsmeade — just they were rare to be seen in the village and preferred staying in the underground city that they had built under and around Gringotts.

Marcus suggested a visit to the Three Broomsticks to start off the weekend, and that’s what they did. The pub was as crowded as ever — adults, students, residents, passerbys, everyone was enjoying the lively ambiance of the merry bar.

At the bar, the lovely Madam Rosmerta turned away from her various suitors to take orders from the three, “Welcome, boys. What can I get for you today?”

“One large butterbeer,” replied Eddie, placing the coins on the table.

“Same for me, please,” said Marcus, getting the money from his pouch wallet.

Madam Rosmerta counted the coins and nodded, “Alright, two large butterbeers coming up,” she turned to Quinn and asked, “what about you?”

“One vanilla milkshake with a large scoop of butterscotch and shaved chocolate on the top, please,” said Quinn, reciting his order, “how much would that be? I want a large serving as well.”

Eddie, Marcus, and Rosmerta didn’t show any reaction to Quinn’s order — his two friends were used to the variety of drinks that Quinn ordered every time they came to Hogsmeade, and Quinn had left an impression on Rosmerta because he had ever only ordered a butterbeer once and after that time, Quinn’s orders were always like his current one.

“Three sickles,” she asked, which Quinn paid. As Madam Rosmerta remembered Quinn, she also knew his habits, “Your mug.” Quinn always handed her a conjured mug to carry his drinks around with him.

Quinn smiled, and instead of conjuring a mug as she was expecting, he took out a wooden tankard from his robes. “Please, make the drink in this.”

Rosmerta surprised hands received the tankard as her eyes switched between Quinn and the tankard in her hands before she finally went to fix up the drinks.

On the side, Eddie was grinning — the tankard was his Christmas gift to Quinn, after all.

“Hey? Why didn’t Luna come with us?” asked Eddie.

Quinn s stared around the bar and the people as he answered, “She is spending time with her other friend.”

“Eh? Who?”

Marcus answered as he arrived with his and Eddie’s butterbeers. “You don’t know? She has been spending time with Astoria.’

“Astoria? Astoria Greengrass as in Daphne’s sister?” said Eddie taking his large butterbeer.

“Yeah, somehow, both of them are friends now.”

As Marcus and Eddie were talking, Quinn was looking into the mirror behind the bar and saw Ludo Bagman, reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of whom had their arms crossed and looked rather menacing.

It was indeed odd, Quinn thought, that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. He watched Bagman in the mirror. He was looking as if he was trying to convince the goblin of something.

‘Ah, I get it now,’ thought Quinn. He received his shake from Madam Rosmerta before telling Eddie and Marcus, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Then he walked towards the shady corners, towards Bagman.

“Gentlemen,” greeted Quinn as he sat down with them like they were all friends, and he was totally supposed to be there, “what a lovely day we have today. The snow is particularly lovely and glowing today. Having a cold drink like the one I’m having has a unique charm — you should try it out.”

“Q-Quinn,” stuttered Bagman, and even in the cold, he started to sweat as his heart began to beat faster, “w-what are you doing here?”

Quinn didn’t reply immediately; instead, he stared into Bagman’s eyes and reached out inside. ‘Ah, as I feared. He’s an addict. No, he’s worse; he’s an idiot.’

“Mr. Bagman, before you say anything else, I know what you’re trying to do here,” sighed Quinn, “we talked about this when I generously decided to provide you with some much-needed help. I warned you what would happen if you tried to do exactly this.”

“N-No, you’ve got all this wrong,” sputtered Bagman, “I wasn’t —”

A goblin cut Bagman off, “Who are you?”

Quinn glanced at the goblin, scooped up a spoonful of ice cream, and ate it. “Quinn West.”

The four goblins, dressed in heavy robes, twitched at the mention of his names.

“West,” one goblin replied with a guttural voice, “I remember, you’re the one who has a student vault with us. The only West coin we have in Gringotts.”

“Yes,” smiled Quinn, continuing to drink and eat, “I’m also the one who paid Mr. Bagman’s debt, and I would suggest that you don’t lend him more money.”

“That’s between us and Ludo Bagman. You’re not to interfere in our business.”

Quinn watched the toothy goblin, showing their sharp teeth, and shrugged. “Okay. . . I will take a guess about what is happening here. Mr. Bagman here is trying to convince you to lend him some money, which you’re hesitant to do because his past record with Gringotts isn’t particularly spotless. But Mr. Bagman assures you that he’ll pay you back on time.”

Bagman wasn’t even looking up right now. He had his eyes squeezed close, his head bowed down.

“You see, the reason behind Mr. Bagman’s confidence is that he plans to put his money. . . once again into gambling. . . just like last time. This time around, he was going to put his money into the very lucrative quidditch tournament happening around right now.”

Quinn’s initial plan had been to keep the betting system inside Hogwarts and for the Hogwarts student. The Weasley twins had other ideas — around the third week, they started expanded to the people in the stands, and when the fifth week rolled around, they came to Quinn and suggested that they open up the betting to anyone who wanted to bet.

Their problem was that they didn’t have the capital for the expansion. It took a lot of cash and liquidity to match the bets and keep a betting operational. Moreover, they didn’t have the knowledge on how to work something of that level.

Fortunately for them, Quinn was ambitious and liked the idea. Furthermore, he had his head crammed with business knowledge from George West, Elliot Dalton, and Lia West — liquified gems of wisdom and had the money to back everything up.

“And I’m sure you fine gentlemen must know who run the Hogwarts quidditch betting scene,” he pointed at himself, “I do; as such, I decide who gets to bet, and I have placed strict orders that Mr. Bagman is not to be allowed to place any bets.”

Quinn stared up into Bagman’s round, rosy face and his wide, baby-blue eyes.” But it seems that he has employed another to do his bidding — I thought of this happening, in fact, expected it, but sincerely hoped that he won’t go down that path.”

“I-I. . . .”

Around that time, Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing banana yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. Then she noticed Ludo Bagman, a bunch of goblins, and Quinn West sitting in a shady corner.

“Bozo? What’s Bagman. . . what’s he doing with a pack of goblins in tow? Showing them the sights . . . what nonsense . . . he was always a bad liar. Reckon something’s up? Think we should do a bit of digging? And why is Quinn West sitting with them? . . . Come on, let’s go talk to them — a friendly chat, you know?”

She, with her trusty photography, marched towards the corner and, with a brilliant smile and shrill voice, spoke, “Bagman! What a surprise to see you here.”

“Go away, Ms. Skeeter, you’re not required here,” said Quinn without looking at the reporter.

Rita Skeeter’s smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick- Quotes Quill, “Ah, Quinn, I didn’t see you there—”

“Ms. Skeeter, why are you still here?” asked Quinn, finally glancing at the woman.

Rita’s eyes hardening as they fell on Quinn, “Quinn, seeing you with Ludo Bagman is a surprise. . . . I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl. . . .” She tried to garner some favor.

If Ludo Bagman was scared before, he was more scared now. Rita Skeeter was like a blood-smelling hound who wouldn’t let go of a scoop if she could smell one. And right now, she was trying to garner favor with Quinn. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

Quinn sighed once again, “Ms. Skeeter, can I talk to you for a second.”

Rita made Bozo stay behind as she followed Quinn to another corner. “Yes, Quinn? What is it? Do you want to know about Bagman because I have a lot of things I can—”

“Ms. Skeeter,” Quinn stopped her, “I knew about your little secret before I even met you. Don’t you think I would know Mr. Bagman’s dirty little secrets? I know what he did during the war, what he’s doing now, and what he’s going to do in the future.”

He took a pause before finally stating, “Ms. Skeeter, you don’t have to do this. All I desire from you is to not cross paths with me. If you can do that, I’ll not come in your path if you do that, and we both will go out merry ways.”

Quinn understood that if he wanted, he could use Rita Skeeter as a very useful asset. But Quinn didn’t want to deal with Rita Skeeter as he had too much on his plate to keep tabs on what she was doing, and Rita Skeeter was like a viper, and if he gave her a chance, she would bite him. He was a hundred percent sure that if he asked Rita Skeeter to do something, she would try to find something that would put Quinn at a disadvantage.

“Do you understand me?”

Rita’s quill hand went down, and she nodded silently.

“Good, then. I wish you a pleasant day.”

He walked back to the goblin table, and as he sat down, he addressed Bozo, the photographer, “You can go now. Ms. Skeeter is calling for you.”

Bozo seemed confused as this wasn’t how things usually went. His partner(boss) would usually be smiling with the other party sweating. He walked away feeling very perplexed.

“Now, where were we?” asked Quinn. “Ah, yes. As I was saying, if you want to make a loss, then go ahead, be my guest, lend him money because Mr. Bagman isn’t going to be doing any quidditch betting — but maybe this better; maybe he will use that money somewhere useful.”

The goblins had heard enough. They looked at each other before getting up and walking out of the bar. They didn’t even look at Bagman before leaving.

“Mr. Bagman, I don’t care what you do after the tournament, but before it, I don’t want any problems from you. Even now, it won’t cause me any harm if I let you do whatever you want, but tell me, what was our deal?”

“. . . .If I give you the hosting job and stay out of trouble till the tournament, you’ll pay off my debts,” replied Bagman.

“Exactly,” said Quinn, finally finishing his milkshake, “I’ll let it go this time, but next time around, I won’t be so lenient. You may take this any way you want to or can. . . .”

Quinn got up gave Bagman one last look before leaving. His job as the host of the Tri-wizard tournament was directly tied to Ludo Bagman being on the judging panel. If somehow, Bagman managed to get himself booted, then Quinn’s host duties might come into jeopardy, and he would’ve to do extra work to keep that job.

As he walked back towards the bar, he saw the Weasley twins enter the pub. “Fred, George, here!”

” “Yeah, what is it?” “

Quinn pointed at Bagman, sulking in the corner, and muttered, “Mr. Bagman there was trying to place some bets. I’ve talked to them, but if he does come to you, don’t let him come to place some bets — not even if he agrees to pay both of you back for the galleons he took from at the Worl Cup.”

“How did you. . . —” “—Never mind,” the twins sighed, “Okay, we will make sure that—” “—he doesn’t place any bets with us.”

“Good,” nodded Quinn, satisfied, “also Bagman is using a couple students to place his bets; I’ll be sending those names, so make sure they are banned for a couple of games.” He had gleaned off the information right from the source.

” “Roger.” “

When Quinn joined his friends back, Marcus asked, “What was that about?”

“Oh, you know. Business as usual,” Quinn replied before calling out to the hostess, “Madam Rosmerta, one hot chocolate, please.”

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“So, will you do it?”

Quinn stared at the five adults in front of him and pretended to ponder the question he just asked. “You’re asking me if I would be fine being put into an enchanted sleep and then spend a couple of hours inside the freezing waters of the Great Lake in February.”

Albus nodded as if it was a commonplace request, “Yes, that’s about right.”

“Hmm, I see,” nodded Quinn, “While I would love to volunteer for this exciting opportunity, I’ve hosting responsibilities that I need to attend, so I’m unfortunately not available.”

In the headmaster’s office, Quinn sat with the three heads of schools, Flitwick and Barty Crouch Sr.

“Mr. West,” started Crouch, “I assure you that you’ll be absolutely safe. Professor Dumbledore has communicated with the merpeople, and they will make sure that you’ll not be harmed down while you’re sleeping.”

Quinn, of course, wasn’t worried about being harmed — certainly not underwater. That was probably the safest place for him.

“I understand that Mr. Crouch, and I’ve full trust in the measures taken, but I’ve things planned for the second task. Mr. Bagman and I’ve been in regular contact, preparing just for this task.”

“And what might those preparations be?” asked Maxime.

“That you’ll see on the day itself,” smiled Quinn before asking back, “is there no else you can ask to be Fleur’s hostage? Like one of your students, someone close to her, maybe.”

“Well. . . Fleur’s younger sister just arrived as the second batch of students from Beauxbatons. We can have her go under the lake. . . but I’m a little hesitant about putting someone as young as her in the lake so soon after she gets here.”

Quinn groaned internally, not audibly, of course. It was true that Gabrielle Delacour was dangerously young to be put under the lake, and looking at it, he should volunteer for it. Fleur was his friend, and she would definitely not like it when she found that her sister was put inside the lake.

Especially not when the egg riddle states that they would lose those hostages after an hour. Not a thing to be happy about.

‘Ah, whatever. I should just do it. There’s no harm done to me anyway,’ thought Quinn, ‘I could probably break from the enchanted sleep if I try hard enough. . . . it’ll be a good opportunity to see how well I can do against Dumbledore’s magic. But, what would I do while tied up down there, not that I can talk merespeak. . . . ah, I should speak up first.’

But before he could, Olympe spoke up, “Quinn, are you dating Fleur?”

Quinn, who was about to speak, closed his mouth at the sudden question before opening it again, “. . . No, I’m not. . . why?”

“Alright, it’s decided then. Little Gabrielle will go inside. I think having her sister down there will be a greater motivation for Fleur, increasing her chances to win.”

“That’s one way to think about, I guess,” said Quinn. He was a little taken aback by the reasoning, but he could see it working. If someone put Lia under the lake, Quinn would literally tear the lake apart to get to her.

“This is over then?” said Karakoff, sounding bored mixed with a bit of irritation, “everyone’s hostages are decided. Three of them are already put into sleep for tomorrow; we just need to get that little girl down there.”

“Oh? Who’re the other three,” asked Quinn.

Dumbledore answered Quinn, “Ms. Ivy Potter for her brother Harry Potter; Ms. Cho Chang for Cedric Diggory; and finally, Ms. Daphne Greengrass for Victor Krum.”

Quinn’s brow twitched at the mention of Daphne going into the lake. He knew that she would be going inside, but still hearing it now bothered him a little.

‘Krum better come first in this round,’ thought Quinn, ‘and Ivy instead of Hermione looks like I was wrong. Well, sister trumps date, I guess. And Lily Potter must know about the real situation.’

“Great to know,” he said, “I’ll use that info while hosting.”

He was going to put on a show tomorrow morning.

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Quinn West – MC – Investor, Consultant, hostage candidate.

Ludo Bagman – Gambling Addict – Working under strict terms.

Rita Skeeter – Journalist – Sometimes being bold pays off, sometimes it doesn’t.

Goblins – Profit-seeking – The West name subconsciously makes them snarl.

Weasley Twins – Betting Kings – Learning the ways to run an operation.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – Day 1 of 4 of end-terms is over. 2 out of 8 subjects are done. Three days and six subjects more to go.

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