bacchusnovels Chapter 432 Mini Rocket Crossbow
Chapter 432 Mini Rocket Crossbow
Chapter 432 Mini Rocket Crossbow
"You seem very relaxed, Mr. Lovegood," Sean said casually.
“Of course, Professor.” Xenophilius put down his binoculars, revealing his signature eccentric smile. “This place is a veritable breeding ground for inspiration! People always focus too much on the game itself and overlook the details outside of it, such as the energy fluctuations here—and the subtle traces of those ghostly backwinds.”
From some point in time, Xenophius's mind became more... expansive.
Sean smiled slightly, not interrupting his train of thought, but instead following the topic and asking, "The Ghosts of the Reverse Wind? Do you believe they really exist?"
“Oh, not ‘think,’ Phillips, but ‘know,’” Xenophilius replied solemnly. “In fact, Luna and I almost saw them on our way here. You know, those extremely subtle changes in airflow could not possibly be a natural phenomenon.” He said, his voice growing increasingly agitated.
Sean nodded, not directly refuting, but instead went along with it and asked, "Do you think this camp will attract them?"
"Definitely!" Xenophilius said confidently. "Such a grand event is not only a wizarding celebration, but it will also attract many creatures we don't yet know about. Phillips, you should pay close attention to your surroundings; perhaps you can become a witness to their discovery."
"I will," Sean replied with a smile, turning his gaze to Luna beside him.
Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had already walked through the two rows of tents to the center of the camp.
This area is much more lively than the outer area, with a dazzling array of strange magical devices and stalls, and the air is filled with the cheerful laughter of wizards.
A vendor selling magical desserts is holding up a plate of bubbling candies to attract customers, while a wizard next to him is showing off his singing broom, drawing a group of children who are clapping and cheering.
"Look at that!" Ron pointed to a stall and ran over excitedly.
A huge gold banner hung there, with the words "Ireland Team Exclusive Souvenirs! Limited Edition!" written in shimmering magical letters.
Harry and Ginny followed and saw that the stall was filled with all sorts of green decorations, including miniature Irish brooms, automatically waving flags, and glowing green wizard hats.
Ron was captivated, picked up a hat and put it on, instantly transforming into a sparkling "Irishman".
"How's this hat?" Ron turned to Harry and asked smugly. "Hmm—not bad if you don't mind shining like a Christmas tree." Harry teased with a smile.
"I think it looks pretty good," Ginny said, "but you'd better ask about the price; I don't think these things are cheap."
Ron was about to ask the price when he was drawn to a burst of cheers from the side.
They turned around and saw a large group of people gathered around a large stall, seemingly playing a small game.
"Let's go take a look," Harry suggested. The three of them quickly squeezed into the crowd and found a huge magic ball on the stall. The surface of the ball was flashing with all sorts of patterns—like miniature phantoms of the players in the game.
"Guess who will score first!" the stall owner announced loudly. "If you guess right, you'll win our grand prize—a real mini rocket crossbow!"
"Firebolt!" Ron's eyes widened. "That's the most powerful broom in the wizarding world!"
"Yeah, 'mini version'," Ginny emphasized, rolling her eyes.
"Who cares if it's a mini version or not?" Ron said excitedly. "I have to try it!"
As he spoke, he quickly pulled out a few Galleons he had been saving for a long time and handed them to the stall owner: "Here you go, I bet the Irish chaser will score first!"
The stall owner took the money, tapped his wand lightly, and the huge magic ball lit up. The light and shadow on the surface of the ball began to move, and several miniature player models wearing the green jerseys of the Irish national team appeared.
They flew nimbly around the sphere of light, as if they were rehearsing a ball-chasing attack.
"Good choice, young man," the stall owner said with a smile. "Ireland's chasers are top-notch, but Bulgaria also has a few aces. You'll have to rely on your luck."
"Luck is on our side!" Ron said confidently, crossing his arms and waiting for the game to end.
His face was filled with anticipation, as if he could already see himself flying with a miniature fire crossbow.
Harry stood to the side, watching the magic ball with interest, while Ginny crossed her arms, a look of half helplessness and half curiosity on her face: "Do you really think winning a mini broomstick will make you any better?"
“Ginny, this isn’t just a broom!” Ron retorted confidently. “It’s a fire bolt—even a miniature one, it’s a symbol!”
Just then, the light and shadow on the surface of the magic ball flickered violently, and the mini-players quickened their movements.
Harry was astonished to see the players chasing the Quaffle at an unimaginable speed, and the welcome simulation on the ball's surface was so realistic that it felt like he was actually there.
With a crisp chime, an Irish chaser precisely tossed the ball into the mini-goalkeeper's ring!
"Ireland scores!" the stall owner shouted, raising his wand to make the score on the orb increase rapidly. "Congratulations, young man! You've got some great luck!"
"I won!" Ron shouted excitedly, almost jumping up.
The stall owner handed him a miniature fire crossbow model. The broom looked exactly like the real thing, and it could even produce tiny sparks when it flew out. It looked very exquisite.
"Wow, this is amazing!" Ron carefully examined the broom before putting it into his pocket. "See? I told you the Irish Chaser would take the first point!"
"You're in luck, Ron," Harry said with a smile, happy for his friend. "But you'd better not let Fred and George see you, or they might laugh at you for being so proud of a 'mini' thing."
"They won't laugh at me!" Ron raised his chin. "They'll see how good Ireland is once the game starts!"
They continued their stroll through the camp, finding the lively scene in the center increasingly captivating.
Various noises arose from the crowd. Some wizards were demonstrating small magical fireworks, some had set up magical grills to grill meat in the air, and children were chasing after flying toy brooms.
As they walked, they passed a peculiar stall—the stall owner was using a magic wand to weave various glittering letters in the air.
The letters floated in the air, forming a sign that read "Predict the Winner": "Take a gamble and predict the ultimate winner! Win a limited-edition Quidditch autographed memorabilia with a perfect score!"
"My God, this place has everything!" Ginny shook her head. "You Quidditch fanatics are probably going to spend all your Galleons here."
Harry smiled but didn't answer.
He looked up into the distance and could vaguely see the towering silhouette of the stadium rising from the horizon, its huge golden arches gleaming in the sunlight, inspiring longing.
"Alright, it's about time to go back." Ginny checked the time. "We can't miss the meeting; Dad definitely doesn't want us to be late."
"You're right." Harry nodded. Ron, though still somewhat reluctant, turned and walked back with them.
On the other side, Sean was caught in the middle between Hermione and Luna, in a dilemma.
"Professor, do you think Ireland's tactics might include using a 'whirlwind chase' to counter Bulgaria's defense?" Hermione spoke first, then fell silent.
Sean turned slightly to Hermione, seemingly interested in the question: "The 'whirlwind chase' is indeed their strength, especially effective against slower chasers. However, Bulgaria's defense... well, their goalkeeper is known for his quick reactions, which might somewhat limit Ireland's tactics."
"I think Ireland is perfectly capable," Luna interjected, her tone light and airy. "Their chasers are not only fast, but also very creative, especially when they're getting around the defense in the air. I think their agility will make the Bulgarian players look like they're in slow motion." She then turned to Sean, a hint of anticipation in her eyes. "Professor, what do you think?"
Sean nodded, his tone still measured: "That's an interesting point, Luna. Creativity is definitely a major strength of the Irish team; they often make unexpected moves at crucial moments."
Hermione frowned slightly, not quite agreeing with Luna's nonchalant tone.
So she countered, "But competition isn't just about creativity. Tactics and teamwork are the key factors in determining victory, especially against a strong opponent like Bulgaria."
"Creativity is a tactic in itself," Luna said dismissively, turning to Hermione with a faint smile. "Perhaps, sometimes focusing too much on rules and theories can blind us to the possibilities that inspiration can bring."
Hermione's expression changed slightly.
If she heard correctly, there seemed to be a deliberate hint—or provocation—in Luna's tone.
She tried to remain calm, but a sense of unease welled up inside her.
Before this, she had never realized that Luna and Professor Phillips had such a tacit understanding.
She couldn't help but quickly recall their conversation in her mind—could there be something she had overlooked in these seemingly casual discussions?
Has it really turned out like this after only a few days?
Well, if Luna wants to prove her "understanding" of Professor Phillips, then Hermione Granger will not back down easily.
She instinctively stood up straighter, silently telling herself: Very well, then let Professor Phillips see for himself who his smartest and most academically profound student is.
So Hermione said, "Inspiration is important, but without a solid foundation, even inspiration is hard to sustain. True success comes from reason and hard work, not just intuition."
Luna blinked. "Some successes don't require hard work; they happen naturally, like the wind propelling a sailboat. I think that's what makes the magical world so fascinating."
Sean listened to their conversation, his eyebrows slightly raised, but he didn't immediately interrupt.
His gaze swept back and forth between the two men, already sensing that the discussion was starting to turn tense.
I feel a little... tempted to escape.
Luna had always seemed indifferent to worldly affairs, but the reason for this big change can be traced back to her return to Devon three days ago.
It was a rainy night.
three days ago.
rain.
Devonshire.
Thick, dark clouds hung low in the sky, and raindrops pounded on the earth like a dense drumbeat.
The fields outside Devonshire were muddy from the rain, and all that could be heard was the sound of rain hitting the ground and the occasional rustling of the wind through the trees.
Sean Phillips walked alone along the country road, pulling his cloak's hood up over his head in an attempt to shield himself from the cold wind and rain.
Despite this, raindrops still dripped down his face from the brim of his hat, cold and biting, sliding down his chin and into his collar. He shivered, trying to ignore the chill.
British weather is always so unpredictable.
Just ten minutes ago, the sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly, casting dappled shadows through the trees. Even the birdsong sounded exceptionally clear. But now, it felt like a completely different world. The gloomy sky was oppressive, and the damp, cold rain seeped into his clothes, enveloping him in a chill.
"What a hassle," Sean muttered to himself, though his tone carried a hint of impatience, he didn't stop walking.
He held something wrapped in cloth in his right hand; the cloth was already wet from the rain, but he held it tightly as if afraid of losing it.
This is a precious gift from Newt Scamander—the legendary magizoologist.
During their last parting, Newt expressed his deep gratitude to Sean for his advocacy for the preservation of magical creatures and agreed to share his latest research findings with him.
A few days ago, the gift arrived in Sean's hands as promised.
The gift was a set of manuscripts on conservation strategies for endangered magical animals, as well as the seeds of a unique magical plant that is said to attract certain endangered animals to inhabit the area.
When Sean first saw the manuscript, he immediately thought of Xenophilius Lovegood—he knew that Lovegood always had a great passion for such strange and rare knowledge.
This gift would surely pique his interest greatly. Not far away, he finally saw the Lovegood family's house, which looked as strange as a car.
Compared to when I last left, there were some new decorations on the top—these decorations made the top of the house look like a clock tower, and several strange devices on the roof turned slowly, making a soft "creaking" sound, like a huge, working wizard's wind-up toy.
Green vines climbed the exterior walls of the house, some of them bearing small, lantern-like fruits (somewhat resembling cherry tomatoes).
"Gaki-ichi"
Sean's boots made a soft sound as they stepped on the wooden floor in front of the door.
He reached out and knocked on the door. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat onto the ground, where it flowed into a small puddle at his feet.
A few seconds later, the door was flung open, and Xenophilius Lovegood's face appeared behind it. His hair was as disheveled as ever, he wore a large robe, and his smile was warm and genuine.
"Long time no see, Phillips! This rain is really heavy," Xenophilius said, pulling the door open wider. "Come in, come in, don't stand outside getting wet."