Harry Potter: The art of divination

*Morpheus pov* 

His shock and horror of my presence quickly turned to outrage, "Leave." he commanded the whore 

She quickly stood and scuttled out of the room fumbling with the door for a moment as she took out her key to unlock it. The implication of me being inside and the door still being locked chilled her. 

I watched her with amusement as she fled and finally when the minister and I were alone I turned back to him, "I feel as if I finally understand you more my friend." I said with a bright smile sitting across from him in a random chair 

He glared at me, "What do you want?" 

I looked around appreciating the scandalous atmosphere, "Just a chat." you see the seed of suggestion I planted that first meeting was just a seed, it needs to be fed to grow

Some people take the nurturing approach to gain rapport with the target letting the seed bloom into a trusting friendship. 

I like to take the other approach, forcing the seed to grow like a weed tangling into the target making him susceptible to my suggestions. 

He cringed, "Out with it Morpheus this isn't as compromising a position as you think it is." he spat 

I shrugged, "Oh really? Then let me spread the word to the prophet maybe your wife will agree with you?" I felt the smirk effortlessly slide onto my lips

He frowned, "I am still not hearing what you want." 

I shrugged, "Its simple really make an example of some of the death eaters you are keeping in your cells. Transfer them to Azkaban."

His eyes widened, "You are asking for more than a lot, not only would some houses cry in outrage it might antagonize their leader even more." 

That's the point. 

"I don't care who you pick just pick three and send them to Azkaban. Hold an official trial for each, they won't be able to refute the outcome." I replied smoothly 

He frowned in thought, "I can hold a trial but, I won't promise success we both know what defense strategy will be employed." 

I nodded, "it won't matter, set a trial date at the next Wizengamot gathering." I stood and started heading for the door 

"Send her back in." he called out behind me 

I turned, "are you sure?" I asked amused at his upset expression, "Well it doesn't matter anymore does it? You already have everything you need on me send her in." he bit out waving me off 

What a funny man.

*Narrator pov* 

The Quidditch stadium had transformed into a bubble of energy, humming with adrenaline. Rising like ancient battlements, the stone stands towered around the pitch, seeming to stretch up to the heavens themselves. The air was something electric as thousands of fans cheered with voices that echoed and overlapped, a thrumming chorus of excitement.

Banners and enchanted flags draped over the stands created a sea of colors, each section lit with shimmering hues that represented the two rival teams. The Ballycastle Bats' section was awash in dark maroon and pitch-black, fans waving enchanted bat-shaped pennants that pulsed and flapped, looking so lifelike that one might think an actual swarm of bats had descended into the stadium. A chant rose from the Bats' supporters, "Bats! Bats! Bats!"

Across the pitch, the Kenmare Kestrels' section was a burst of bright emerald green, dotted with charms shaped like tiny kestrels that darted through the air above the fans' heads. These kestrel charms occasionally let out shrill whistles, adding an almost avian melody to the wild cheering. Kestrels fans were dressed in green cloaks and hats adorned with silver feathers, their loyalty practically glowing in the stands. They stomped and cheered in a fast-paced rhythm, voices blending into a rousing melody: "Kestrels fly high, never say die!"

Down on the pitch, the players looked like comets streaking through the sky, their robes whipping in the wind as they wove through the play with focused intensity. The Ballycastle Bats' Chasers, all clad in black with their maroon team emblem proudly displayed, executed passes with military precision, forming a coordinated line as they pushed toward the goalposts. The Kestrels, however, were just as fierce; their Chasers, draped in green with gleaming gold accents, cut through the air with the agility of the birds they represented, dodging around their opponents in daring twists and turns.

A flash of movement drew the crowd's collective gaze to the Bludgers, two iron spheres shooting through the air like missiles, unpredictable and ruthless. The Bats' Beaters took swift swings with their bats, sending the Bludgers whizzing toward the Kestrels with thunderous cracks. The Kestrels' Beaters countered with equal ferocity, driving the Bludgers away from their teammates in seamless, well-practiced motions.

High above the main action, the two Seekers circled like predators. They were nearly silent in their movements, their eyes never leaving the small, golden glimmer that occasionally appeared in the sunlight—the elusive Golden Snitch. The Ballycastle Seeker, a wiry young man with intense concentration etched onto his face, hovered patiently, his gaze like that of a hawk. The Kestrels' Seeker, a fierce woman with a wild mane of red hair, mirrored his movements, ready to dive at any flicker of movement.

Suddenly, the Quaffle was in the hands of Murphy, a Chaser for the Kestrels. The crowd leaned forward as one, breaths held as he streaked toward the Bats' goalposts. He weaved through the Bats' defense, twisting and rolling, narrowly dodging an oncoming Bludger. In a flash, he hurled the Quaffle forward with perfect precision, and it sailed through the middle hoop, sending the Kestrels' side into a deafening roar.

"Ten points to the Kenmare Kestrels!" shouted the commentator from a floating platform, his voice magically amplified. "And what a spectacular move from Murphy!"

The game intensified as the Bats scrambled to recover. Their Chasers, now with renewed urgency, seized the Quaffle and shot down the pitch. The Kestrels' Keeper, a towering figure with steely resolve, narrowed his eyes as the Bats' Chaser barreled toward him. With a lightning-fast feint, the Chaser twisted around the Keeper and launched the Quaffle through the left hoop, evening the score and igniting the Bats' side of the stadium.

Far above, the Seekers suddenly sprang into action. The elusive glint of gold had appeared, and both players dove toward it in a breathtaking, heart-stopping descent, the crowd roaring as they watched the two speed toward the ground. The Ballycastle Seeker was inches ahead, his arm outstretched, fingers brushing against the tiny golden wings. But just as he was about to close his hand around it, the Kestrels' Seeker cut across his path, pulling ahead by a hair.

But the Snitch darted away, vanishing into the chaos of the game, leaving the Seekers hovering in frustration as the crowd groaned in unison.

A man wearing a blank silver mask walked through the outer ring of the stadium he was like a living shadow catching no one's eyes as he passed through the crowd. 

The man was obviously Morpheus as he slipped through the gaggle of people clambering to buy refreshments he slowed past a pair of Aurors, "Call for backup the death eaters will attack soon." he spoke forcefully while grabbing the shoulder of one of the Aurors 

"What?!" the Auror yelled in confusion, "Unmask yourself! State your name!" he yelled trying for his wand but failed as Morpheus kicked his back leg and threw him into his partner and continued walking disappearing into the crowd 

"Bloody hell!" the Auror cursed while straightening himself out, "Alert the other teams we got a situation on our hands."