Iblis threaded through the crowd and walked over to a deserted patch of shade. When someone emerged from behind the trees a moment later, it was a striking young man in his early twenties. A crop of casual short white hair framed his ears, and long, bewitching silver-bright eyes swept across the area, quickly locating the betting tent set up by the Ministry of Magic. He wore a silver-and-white suit, the silver pendant at his chest catching the light, giving him an air of supreme nobility and elegance. His expression, slightly indifferent from fatigue, combined with his lazy gaze to lend a cool, natural allure to his presence.
The dazzling white figure instantly drew the attention of everyone nearby, yet the youth walked past those who stepped forward to approach him as naturally as if he noticed nothing at all. His receding figure was caught by a pair of dark eyes lingering at the edge of the crowd.
"Ireland will win the match in the end, and place an additional bet on Viktor Krum—he will catch the Golden Snitch at the very last moment." The youth approached the staff member in charge of recording wagers, speaking in a low, magnetic, and clear voice. It was a lazy, slightly husky timbre carrying a hint of faint exhaustion. "Fifty thousand Galleons, put it all on him."
Chapter 132