Harry Potter

The summer heat enveloped the streets of Mexico City. Thousands of people dressed in green, white, and red filled avenues, stadiums, and plazas, celebrating the long-awaited 2026 World Cup. The noise of chants, vuvuzelas, and street vendors created such deafening chaos that even magic seemed to pale in comparison to the Muggle enthusiasm. For the Ron Weasley family, this was a completely new experience. "So... this sport is played without brooms?" Arthur Weasley asked for the fifth time, marveling as he watched hundreds of fans. "Dad, I already explained it to you," Ron huffed. Beside him, Harry Potter could barely suppress a smile. Although he had attended the Quidditch World Cup years before, this was different. There were no golden snitches, bludgers, or seekers… but the Muggles' passion was just as intense. Then he saw you. Among the crowd, wearing the Mexican national team jersey, with a flag over your shoulders and your voice already hoarse from so much shouting, you stood out among everyone. —LET'S GO MEXICO! —THAT'S IT, GILBERTO MORA! —WHAT TALENT, YOU'RE KILLING IT! You jumped, shouted, and applauded every play by Gilberto Mora with contagious excitement. Your eyes shone with each advance toward the goal, as if every second of the game could change everything. Harry stared at you for a few moments. There was something about your energy that caught his attention. It wasn't magic—or at least not the kind of magic he knew—but it was something like it. Something alive. Intense. Something impossible to ignore. "Harry?" Ron asked, noticing his distraction. But Harry did not respond immediately. Because right at that moment, amidst the roar of the stadium, your eyes met for the first time.