Chapter 685: 685: Plans For The Quidditch League

Tommy was an exceptionally attentive assistant, but when it came to business and operations, he was still an amateur.

Just like now, he could not understand why John placed so much importance on a Quidditch league.

He himself was a Quidditch fan, but in the end, it was still entertainment.

At that moment, he watched John seemingly pondering something. With his usual willingness to learn, he simply asked when he did not understand.

"My Lord, why do you value the Quidditch league so much?"

"Because of the enormous benefits."

John raised his eyes slightly and said, "Shared interests make beneficiaries more united. War creates heroes, but it's too dangerous. Heroes created through competition are much safer."

John rubbed his ring and continued, "Use Quidditch to make different regions more united. Give them enemies and heroes, but without anyone having to die."

Quidditch was only the beginning of the plan.

John wanted to use competitive sports to create rivals and heroes.

Just like in the Muggle world, every team people supported needed a rival team to stand against.

Heroes who defeated their rivals would send the atmosphere soaring, while defeated rivals would work even harder, and their fans would eagerly wait for revenge.

At one point, Muggle football had even served as a bridge that helped stop wars between countries.

John wanted the entire wizarding world to become obsessed with that kind of atmosphere.

That way, people would not spend their time casually bringing up pure-blood supremacy or going out to grab a couple of Muggles for amusement.

Through Quidditch, he wanted them to see sportsmanship and then spread that spirit further.

Tommy did not fully understand it, but it sounded very reasonable.

"If a werewolf team appeared on the pitch, would you support them?" John asked, changing to a simpler example.

Tommy immediately replied, "Of course!"

The moment he said it, he understood.

This method could be used to ease hatred between different groups.

"It's that simple." John nodded. "But are you sure you'd support a werewolf team?"

"Of course." Tommy looked puzzled. "I'm a werewolf. Why wouldn't I?"

"Good."

John nodded with satisfaction.

"I've used your next twenty years of salary to establish the club."

"What?"

Tommy thought he had misheard.

When he saw John nod again in confirmation, his legs went weak and he dropped to his knees in front of him.

"Hm? You don't have to thank me that enthusiastically."

John wondered why he was being so passionate.

Tommy, however, looked close to tears.

"Oz confiscated my secret savings just last week."

"It's fine."

John walked over, helped him back up, patted him on the shoulder, and comforted him.

"Silverhand has always provided staff meals."

Thud.

Tommy dropped to his knees again.

He could already imagine his future wedding, where he would not even be able to pull ten Galleons out of his pockets.

Wait.

Staff meals?

Tommy thought about it.

The boxes of sweets he usually bought for Oz came directly from Silverhand's sweet shop.

His clothes were custom-made at Silverhand stores.

Ordinary household supplies, Wolfsbane Potion, and everything else he needed all came from Silverhand.

Even when he went out for a drink, he usually drank at Silverhand-owned pubs, and whenever he wanted to be romantic, he simply took wine from Silverhand Cellars.

Come to think of it...

He barely spent any money at all.

After thinking it through carefully, Tommy suddenly understood.

Ever since Oz confiscated his savings, he had stopped carrying money when he went out.

So his salary really was nothing more than a cloud floating past him.

Once he figured that out, Tommy relaxed.

"My Lord really does value me after all."

Now he had only one question.

Was twenty years of salary really enough to start a club?

From John's tone, it sounded like he intended to establish a werewolf Quidditch club.

...

Malfoy was training.

Ever since joining Puddlemere United, he had discovered that he had been placed on the substitutes' bench.

How could Malfoy not be furious?

He was a distinguished former Slytherin Seeker. How could they justify not making him the starting Seeker?

He had to show these players what Slytherin-style hell training truly meant.

And so...

When the Puddlemere United players trained, Malfoy trained.

When the Puddlemere United players rested, Malfoy trained.

When the Puddlemere United players ate, Malfoy trained.

When the Puddlemere United players showered, Malfoy trained.

When the Puddlemere United players slept, Malfoy... slept too.

But he was the first person to arrive the next morning.

"Damn it. What kind of monster is he?"

As captain of this old Quidditch club, Espen Sandberg watched the man who seemed never to rest whenever he was in sight and could not help wondering whether Malfoy secretly had several identical brothers.

Under such insane training, Malfoy's flying skills continued improving.

During a routine practice match within the team, he caught the Golden Snitch before the starting Seeker, Rush Orlando.

"Fuck!"

Rush Orlando immediately cursed.

As a Seeker, he had always been one of the team's aces.

Yet today, the Golden Snitch had been taken from him by someone who had only recently graduated from school.

He had a bad temper.

After landing, he threw his broom onto the ground.

"Rush, he just got lucky." Espen hurried over to calm him down.

"A rookie gets lucky once in a while. I saw it too. The Golden Snitch happened to appear closer to his side."

He needed to steady Rush.

There was another match in only a few days, and several of their previous victories had come from Rush catching the Golden Snitch.

He did not want anything going wrong now.

But the more someone feared something, the more likely it was to happen.

Rush thought about it and realised Espen had a point.

Malfoy had simply held the positional advantage just now, and with a bit of luck...

His expression improved slightly.

Espen finally let out a sigh of relief.

"No way. Seriously?"

Malfoy's irritating voice rang out as he leisurely descended on his broom, pinching the Golden Snitch between two fingers as he mocked them.

"Don't tell me someone actually got outflown by a substitute."

He snorted.

"If I were you, I wouldn't believe that nonsense about luck."

"Luck? You might as well say I used magic on the Golden Snitch."

"I'll have you know, I got an 'O' in Charms."

Malfoy scoffed at the two of them.

Luck?

It appeared near him?

Why not just say it appeared right in front of his face?

That thing had clearly flown over Rush's head.

He had simply failed to notice it.

If it had been Potter, he would have caught it long ago.

And this guy called himself a professional.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Espen roared when he saw Rush's expression darken. "There's no place for a substitute like you to speak here!"

"Tch. The weak should be eliminated. I learned that back at Hogwarts, yet somehow you still haven't figured it out." Malfoy did not care who he was speaking to. "Strength above all. The weak step down, the strong rise. That's the standard I learned in Slytherin."

"That was a school team. Do you even understand what it means to be a professional player?" Rush snapped. "You just got lucky!"

"Right, right. I got lucky." Malfoy looked at him with disdain. "Your flying is so bad you might as well let Potter take your place."

"If you're bad, admit you're bad. If you take a beating, stand there and take it. Didn't your captain teach you that?"

Wait.

Captain?

Isn't that me?

Espen realised he had been dragged into the insult too.

His face darkened as he roared, "Malfoy, from now on, you're banned from the training ground!"

"I've been too polite with you, haven't I?" Malfoy snapped back. "A loss is a loss. You're protecting him this much. What, is he your boyfriend?"

"This team refuses to let the strong rise and keeps the weak rotting in their positions?"

"Get down here!"

No one could remain calm under Malfoy's taunts.

Espen and Rush were both furious.

Seeing this, Malfoy immediately flew down and tossed his broom into the arms of another substitute.

Looking at the two men who clearly wanted to beat him up, he strolled over leisurely with his hands behind his back and said calmly, "I'm down. Now what?"

"I can't take this anymore!"

Rush charged forward furiously, aiming a punch at Malfoy's infuriating face.

He had always been one of the team's starters. Who had not given him some leeway?

Puddlemere United was indeed one of the oldest clubs, but they had still gone many seasons without winning a championship.

The club treated Rush like a treasure.

If he wanted to beat someone up, who would stop him?

Malfoy was different.

He did not stop him.

He hit back.

Rush went flying backward.

Malfoy looked at him with contempt.

"You can't beat me in the air, and you can't beat me in a fight either. Tell me, what exactly are you good at?"

Espen stared in shock, his mind going completely blank.

He really hit him.

Rush had been knocked unconscious with a single kick.

"Pathetic. You're not even as tough as Potter. One kick and you're down."

"You're fired!"

Espen roared, "Get out of the team!"

"Are you trying to tell me what to do?" Malfoy stared at him. "Think carefully."

"Yes, that's right! Get out!"

Espen could not understand why the club had recruited someone like him in the first place.

Malfoy turned and walked away without the slightest hesitation.

If this place would not keep him, somewhere else would!

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