the last heir-sirius black daughter&son

Silent Warnings

The sun blazed down on the Quidditch stadium, its rays reflecting off the polished stands, each decorated with vibrant flags from various wizarding nations. Alphard stood among his friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the excitement palpable in the air. The Weasley kids were also nearby, fully aware of the Order of the Phoenix but sworn to secrecy, their eyes alight with anticipation. The World Wizarding Cup was not just a sporting event; it was a celebration of magical unity, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the ever-present tension of their world.

Alphard scanned the crowd, his gaze sharp and watchful. He felt a familiar pang of longing and nostalgia, remembering the times when their biggest concern was winning a Quidditch match. But today was different. He was here not just as a spectator but as a vigilant member of the Order, ever on the lookout for signs of trouble.

The stadium erupted in cheers as the players took to the field. Alphard settled into his seat, letting the spectacle unfold while his mind remained alert. The Bulgarian team, led by Viktor Krum, executed tight formations with their robes billowing, their movements precise and formidable. The Irish team countered with dazzling speed and agility, creating a breathtaking display. Alphard found himself momentarily swept up in the excitement, his eyes tracking the Golden Snitch as it darted across the pitch.

Amidst the cheers and the roars of the crowd, Alphard's vigilance never wavered. The escape of Barty Crouch Jr. loomed like a dark cloud over the day's festivities. His hand never strayed far from his wand, ready for anything.

"Look at that maneuver!" Ron exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as Krum performed a daring dive.

"He's incredible," Hermione agreed, her eyes wide with admiration.

Harry, though equally engrossed in the match, leaned closer to Alphard. "Do you think we'll see any trouble today?" he asked quietly.

Alphard's gaze hardened. "There's always a chance. Stay alert."

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a group of wizards dressed in dark cloaks, moving stealthily through the stands. Alphard's instincts kicked in. He leaned forward, trying to get a better look, his heart pounding. The group seemed to be converging on a single point, where a lone wizard sat, seemingly oblivious to the encroaching danger.

Alphard's eyes widened as he recognized the lone wizard: Regulus Black, his uncle. Alphard's mind raced. What was Regulus doing here? And why did those cloaked figures seem so intent on reaching him?

Without a second thought, Alphard pushed through the throngs of spectators, making his way toward Regulus. He had to get there before it was too late. As he neared, he saw Regulus look up, their eyes meeting with a mixture of surprise and determination.

"Get down!" Alphard shouted, drawing his wand.

The cloaked figures turned at the sound of his voice, their wands raised. Spells began to fly, and the crowd erupted into chaos. Alphard ducked and weaved, casting protective charms to shield the panicked spectators. He reached Regulus just as a jet of red light whizzed past them.

Regulus grabbed Alphard's arm, pulling him down behind a row of seats. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and urgent.

"I could ask you the same," Alphard retorted, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "Those Death Eaters are after you."

Regulus nodded grimly. "I know. I have something they want. Something the Order needs."

Before Alphard could respond, a loud explosion rocked the stadium, sending debris flying. The Death Eaters were closing in. Regulus pointed his wand at the ground, muttering a complex incantation. The earth trembled, and a protective barrier sprang up around them.