The Sun, Moon & Stars

66. The 422nd Quidditch World Cup Final

"Name?"

"We've already paid, just now." Mr Weasley explained, brows furrowed knowingly, "Check your list. The name Weasley."

"I don't know about that." The man scoffed, but still, he checked the list and his eyes widened as he surely came to their name, and the place he had checked off just seconds earlier.

"I don't know what's gotten into me. Forgetting a lot recently." The man shrugged, "But you can go."

Mr Weasley beamed as he guided the group through the gates. Almost immediately, they could feel themselves break through a barrier — the muffiato charm, a silencing spell so that muggle outsiders couldn't hear the ongoings.

"Must be the sun. Heat stroke." Ophelia heard George tell the muggle man as he passed, "You really ought to put some sun block on."

George snickered as he left the man clueless, catching up to the rest of them.

"You're cruel, Weasley." Ophelia shook her head, laughing.

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips, "You're too soft, Lupin." He replied jokingly.

At this point they had parted with the Diggory party, and were now weaving in and out of the crowd of witches and wizards alike. She didn't realize the tournament was actually such a big deal, but was progressively coming to that realization more and more.

Witches with face paint of the correlating team colours passed them, or wizards waving around flags; almost like a school Quidditch match, but to a much larger and more aggressive proportion. There was chanting, singing, clapping, laughing — everybody was happy and excited for the game tonight.

"Correction." Hermione said as she caught up with Ophelia, speaking loudly over the buzz of the crowd, "Wizards take Quidditch much more seriously than muggles take football."

Ophelia smirked, shaking her head as they kept walking, bags slung over their shoulder as they searched for their campsite.

"Thirty-seven!" Mr Weasley eventually announced, beaming at the patch of grass reserved for them.

"All we have to do is make the tents." He noted, hauling his bag down to the grass and unzipping it. "You can all explore if you like, I'll get these ready for tonight."

"You sure you don't need some help?" Ophelia confirmed.

"No, no, that's very sweet, but go enjoy yourselves. I'll be quite alright. Be back for lunch in an hour or two." He assured them, and with that — they scattered.

The twin's went in the opposite direction, mumbling something about going off to find Lee (who, as it turns out, chose to go with his own family) whilst Percy decided to scope out the place to see if there were any Ministry officials, or anybody willing to hear him complain about the noise.

That left the four of them, plus Ginny, and with a final wave to the red-haired man, they set down the field; observing families and hundreds of witches and wizards that were setting up similar tents.

"Oi, it's Harry!"

"Hey you lot!"

Two familiar voices finally, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, emerging from a green tent in one of the nearby rows.

"Good morning!" A pale and plump looking woman with freckles, whom Ophelia assumed to be Seamus' mother, called as the five of them approached the group.

"Hiya you lot." Seamus smiled, shaking hands with each of them, which seemed awfully formal (but his mother was present, after all).

"I tagged along with Seamus' family." Dean explained, slinging a shoulder around his friend, "You guys been here long?"