❝ The sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe. ❞
☽☽☽
Elira Labelle was left an orphan after her parents died from the first wizarding war, left with no one else to take care of her, Albus Dumbledore took it upon himself to...
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he's more than an athlete, he's an artist
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After the adrenaline that the Quidditch World Cup gave, Fred and George had their Ireland flags wrapped around themselves and were dancing unashamedly. Hermione, Elira, and Ginny were gossiping about the Quidditch players they just saw. While Ron, on the other hand, was on top of the couch, professing his deep love and admiration for Viktor Krum.
"There's no one like Krum. He's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist." Ron exclaimed, seemingly blown away by the young seeker.
"Krum?" George mocked.
"I personally would go more for Stoyanov if we're talking about the Bulgarians, he's bloody attractive, but yeah sure, Krum'll do." Fred shrugged.
"What're you going on about? Krum is brilliant!" said Ron as Fred rolled his eyes at him.
"Eh," The older Weasley disagreed. "Still… Stoyanov. That's what I'm talking about."
"I think you're in love, Ron." Ginny grinned cheekily, patting her brother's back.
"Viktor, I love you! Viktor, I do!" The twins sang loudly.
Eventually, Harry joined in on teasing Ron — also singing on top of his lungs. "When we're apart my heart beats only for you!"
All of a sudden, a thunderous booming sound was heard. Harry was midway into pushing Ron and halted in his spot, while Fred and George looked at the tent's entrance.
"Sounds like the Irish has got their pride on," Fred muttered, thinking that the noise was just firework displays.
"Stop! Stop it!" Mr. Weasley came entering the tent looking frazzled. "It's not the Irish. We've gotta get out of here. Now!"
Elira grabbed her wand that was on top of the table and did as she was told. As they got out of the tent, all they witnessed was chaos. Multiple tents were on fire, drunken yells were heard, and people were running in every direction, trying to save themselves from the hooded and masked figures who were moving in packs and were marching slowly across the field. They were levitating random muggles in the air and performing spells that Elira found horrid.
"George, Fred — Ginny is your responsibility! Go, now!" Mr. Weasley ordered as he ran toward the Ministry workers, Bill, Charlie, and Percy right behind him.
