Another Potter

fifty eight

chapter fifty eight
the goblet of fire

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Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Amelia how many witches and wizards there must be in the world. She had never really thought much about those in other countries.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children. Amelia had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't. . . . touch. . . . Daddy's. . . . wand. . . . yecchh!"

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

Amelia and Daphne looked at each other and snickered before they kept walking. A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them. As he hurried past Amelia and Daphne he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose. . . ."

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands. Others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. 

Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. Amelia caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er, is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Daphne. Amelia looked up and her eyes went wide.

"Holy shit," she said. 

They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names. The two girls turned around and smiled. Draco and Blaise were walking over to them. 

The two boys had grown over the summer, but Draco was still taller than Blaise. He was wearing a smart black suit with a black turtleneck. His platinum blond hair was still hanging over his bright blue eyes as he had a grin on his face as he saw Amelia. 

The brunette grinned as she hurried over to Draco and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. Amelia laughed as her feet left the ground as she smiled. 

"Hi," she said as Draco put her down. 

"Hi," he said as Amelia smiled. Amelia interlocked her fingers Draco's right hand with her right hand while she held onto his bicep with her left hand. 

"So what are you two doing?" Blaise asked, his arm around Daphne's waist.

"We were about to look at the Bulgarian tents," Daphne said, "then get some water."