Chapter 229: Riot

Even though the tipsy Cho had shed her usual shyness and became unusually bold, the alcohol and their first time together led to her falling into a deep sleep soon after.

Leaving Alaric alone, holding her close but uncertain how to proceed.

He could only lie on the bed, staring at the top of the tent. Occasionally, a small goblin carrying a lantern would fly by, casting flashes of light. 

He listened to the celebration of the Irish on the other side of the camp, unknowingly slipping into dreams.

In the middle of the night, Alaric suddenly woke up, his sharp senses telling him something was amiss. The sounds in the camp had changed. 

The songs had stopped, replaced by shouts of alarm and the frantic sounds of people running.

Alaric suddenly remembered the Death Eater disruption at the World Cup after-party.

He quickly shook awake the sleeping Cho beside him, hurriedly helping her into clothes before waking Penelope and Hermione in the other two rooms.

The four quickly dressed and assembled in the living room.

"What's going on? Why did you suddenly wake me up?" Cho asked groggily, clearly the most tired from the previous night.

"It seems something's wrong outside," Alaric said. "You should use Floo Powder to go home; it might not be safe here."

"Oh, I wanted to spend more time with everyone this morning," Penelope complained as she walked to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and threw it into the burning fire.

"Go on, go on," Alaric urged. "You can catch up on sleep. I'll see what's going on."

Though the three girls were reluctant, they used the Floo Powder one by one to return to Alaric's home.

Watching them disappear, Alaric stepped out of the tent, took out his wand, and lightly tapped the tent. It immediately shrunk and folded itself into the size of a water cup.

Stuffing the tent into his bag, Alaric began to survey his surroundings.

By the light of the still-burning fires, Alaric saw people running towards the woods, as if fleeing from something moving through the camp. 

That something flickered strangely and made sounds like gunfire. Loud jeers, laughter, and drunken shouts also approached them.

Squinting, Alaric carefully examined the tightly packed group of wizards. Each had their wands raised, pushing forward together slowly across the field.

Above their heads, four struggling figures floated in the air, contorted into various bizarre shapes, as if the masked wizards below were puppeteers and these figures their marionettes, controlled by invisible strings emerging from their wands.

Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards joined the advancing group, laughing loudly and pointing at the floating bodies above. 

As the procession grew, tents collapsed under the pressure. 

A few times, Alaric saw a marcher use a wand to set fire to a nearby tent. Several tents were ablaze, screams echoing louder.

Looking up, Alaric recognized the floating bodies as four Muggles—the campsite manager, his wife, and children. 

One marcher used a wand to flip the manager's wife upside down. 

Her nightgown fell, revealing flashy undergarments, and she struggled to cover herself as the crowd below laughed and cheered.

"How boring," Alaric sneered, watching the youngest Muggle child—a boy—sixty feet above the ground, spinning like a top, his head lolling one way then the other.

Alaric had little regard for wizards who bullied defenseless Muggle civilians with magic, considering themselves superior but resorting to bullying. 

If they dared to wage a full-scale war against Muggle society or attempt to control the Muggle government through spells like Imperius, Alaric might respect them. 

But picking on powerless Muggle civilians was simply pathetic.

Continuing forward, Alaric spotted some familiar faces—Harry, Ron, the twins with Ginny—all running out. 

Some classmates and Ministry employees Alaric knew were also trying to break through to confront the hooded wizards in the center, but they faced significant resistance. 

They seemed hesitant to use magic, fearing the Roberts family might be harmed.

The colored lights that once illuminated the path to the stadium were now extinguished. 

In the woods, dark figures stumbled around; children cried, and nervous, anxious shouts and conversations echoed in the cold night sky around them.

Alongside a small path, a group of pajama-clad teenagers argued in a tight cluster. 

As Alaric passed by, an eleven-year-old girl quickly turned to him and said, "Where's Madame Maxime? We can't find her—"

This caught his attention; of course, he knew Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France.

So, Alaric turned to the girl. She had a delicate, lovely face with silver curly hair. 

Her appearance seemed familiar to Alaric, so he approached and asked in French, "Hello, little sister, what's your name?"

Perhaps his appearance had left a big impression on the girl, who promptly replied without hesitation.

"I'm Gabrielle," her big eyes looked at Alaric pitifully and asked, "Gabrielle Delacour, do you know where Madame Maxime is?"

"I don't know where Madame Maxime is, but I can help you find her," Alaric rubbed the girl's head, "Your sister is Fleur Delacour, right?"

"You know my sister," Gabrielle's eyes lit up, looking at Alaric expectantly, "Are you also pursuing my sister?"

Wow! How many suitors does Fleur have? Why would her sister assume anyone who knows her sister is pursuing her?

"No, I haven't pursued Fleur," Alaric shook his head, explaining, "I only met her once, two years ago at the International Wizard Chess Competition."

"You are... Alaric!" Gabrielle looked curiously at Alaric, blurting out his name.

"Hey, how do you know my name?" Alaric found it strange.

"Because my sister often mentions you," Gabrielle shook her head and said, "Since that competition, my sister often mentions your name? 

I've been curious about you because my sister has never cared so much about a boy. But seeing you in person, I suddenly feel my sister has good taste; big brother, you are really beautiful."

"Is... is that so? But boys shouldn't be described as beautiful," Alaric looked at the precocious Gabrielle and felt a headache coming on; the little girl's focus was always on strange things.

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