Clutching our purchases, Dad in the lead, we all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. We could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing.
The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; I couldn't stop grinning, and I could feel that even Voldemort was enjoying the atmosphere, although I felt it was for a different reason.
We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last we emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.
Though I could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, I could tell that it was huge.
"Seats a hundred thousand," said Dad, spotting the awestruck look on our faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again . . . bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.
And here I would've just killed them
"I get it you like killing people." I hissed at him.
Don't deny it I know you want to kill as well, your hunger is growing, you can't hide it from me
"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked our tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."
The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to our left and right. Our party kept climbing, and at last we reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts.
About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here. Looking down I could see at least a hundred thousand witches and wizards who were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field.
Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from our lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at our eye level, was a gigantic blackboard.
Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, I saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.
The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family — safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer
Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!
Gladrags Wizardwear — London, Paris, Hogsmeade
As I searched around the stadium taking everything in I heard Harry say next to me;
"Dobby?"
I turned around to see a house elf sitting behind us, the tiny creature looking up and stretching its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato.
"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look as well.
Though we had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, we had never actually met him. Even Dad looked around in interest.
YOU ARE READING
The Weasley of Slytherin: The Goblet of Fire
Fanfiction(Y/n) Weasley, starting to feel disconnected from his family, is staring his fourth year at Hogwarts, and with that brings new adventures, new threats, and new feelings.
