"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly.
"Morning," said the Muggle.
"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"
"Weasley — two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.
"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Ah — right — certainly —" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. "Help me, Harry,"
he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a — a — a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now. . . . So this is a five?"
"A twenty," Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware ofMr. Roberts trying to catch every word.
"Ah yes, so it is. . . . I don't know, these little bits of paper . . ."
"You foreign?" said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.
"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.
"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts,scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."
"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously.
Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.
"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up. . . ."
"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr.Roberts didn't give it to him.
"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners.And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."
"Shouldn't he?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.
"It's like some sort of . . . I dunno . . . like some sort of rally," said Mr.Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."
At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr.Roberts's front door.
"Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.
Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley.
"And your change."
"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley.
The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not worrying about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."
He Disapparated.
"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," saidGinny, looking surprised. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"
"He should," said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit . . . well . . . lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And He was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."
They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked
almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weathervanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.
"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."
They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read
WEEZLY.
"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult. . . . Muggles do it all the time. . . . Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"
'Now,this is great!' huffed Renevia, the thing that she hates most about camping, is setting up the tent, the vivid memories of being hit by the poles on her face cause her to grimace. Nevertheless, Harry, she and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go. Theyfinally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards.
Renevia squealed as she walked into a tent that looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.
"I love magic!"
"Out of the kitchen,Ron. We're all hungry." Said Mr Weasley.
"Yeah! Out of the kitchen, Ron!" The twins chorused, propping their feet up on the table.
"Feets off the table," Mr Weasley said, while helping others to put their bags in.
"Feets off the table!" They chorused again, removing their feets, only to prop it back up, when their Dad was out of sight.
Renevia chuckled at the iconic line.
Fred nudged his brother to look at the girl amusingly.
George took the sign and smirking said," charming are we?"
Renevia snorted and jokingly said, " yeah yeah, bloody charming." Then proceed to follow her friend to get water. But little did she know, her speech left the two boys smirking at themselves.
"Er — is it my eyes or has everything gone green?" said Ron.
It wasn't just Ron's eyes. 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.
"Harry! Ron! Hermione! Renevia!"
It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.
"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."
"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Renevia beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."
"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.
"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents up field, where the Bulgarian flag — white, green, and red — was fluttering in the breeze.
The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face.
with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.
"Krum," said Ron quietly.
"What?" said Hermione.
"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.
"'Really grumpy'?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares What does he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."
"Yeah, let's support him , mione, for the sake of a crush." Renevia was meant to tease Hermione because she knows what will happen for the upcoming drama.
"I don't have a crush on him!" A yelled startled Renevia which belonged to Ron. First she was quite confused but then she realized that he misinterpreted what she said.
"It's okay, Ron. Don't be shy," said Renevia, patting his back as if she was giving him emotional support.
"What! No , I'm not!"
"Well, then if you don't , it's a good thing because confessions really need a lot of courage." Renevia added, and faked wiping invisible tears as if she was proud of him.
Harry and Hermione were laughing their ass off nonstop.
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Renevia joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious —"
"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles Wear them."
"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.
"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."
Hermione and Renevia were overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that they had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away. Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite.
Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old Captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, greet Renevia with a hug leaving her standing there in stone before dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team.
Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. More to stop Ron from smirking than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before as if he didn't want someone to misunderstand.
Renevia shook her head and said, "lover birds,"before moving away
While Hermione shook her head helplessly with her oblivious friend, it was quite obvious Harry harbor feelings for Renevia.
"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You haven't got that fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred before he and George start pulling Renevia around.
"Hey, I might split into half if you two don't stop!"
"Oh, come on, Rene! Hang out with us for a while!"
"I don't want to! Your father needs help with the cooking!" With that she sprints from them.
As soon as she got out of the tents, Mr. Weasley does look like he is having fun with the matches. Splintered matches littered the ground around him,
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.
At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's , Renevia's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office. . . .Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now. . . . Hello, Arnie . . . Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator — member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know. . . . and that's Bode and Croaker . . . they're Unspeakables. . . ."
"They're what?"
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to. . . ."
At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them. Renevia took a chance, waving at Bill with her sheepish smile which he returned back with a smile.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.
"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming . . . and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements. . . . Not much for me to do!"
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past,pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched.
Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.
"Ah — yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry — and this is Fred — no, George, sorry — that's Fred— Bill, Charlie, Ron — my daughter, Ginny — and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Renevia Donovan and Harry Potter."
Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets —"
Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.
"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match."
"Oh . . . go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see . . . a Galleon in Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed but recovered himself. "Very well, very well . . . any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't
like —"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that —" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that is convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting. . . .That's all your savings. . . . Your mother —"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum Will get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance. . . . I'll give you excellent odds on that one. . . . We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we. . . ."
Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."
"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby."
Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle. Renevia shook her head and shifted her attention to another way as if she heard enough with the long conversation.
"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."
Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.
"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"
"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."
"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.
"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve — but that was before carpets were banned, of course."
He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.
"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.
"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents are no mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked.
"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun. . . . Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"
Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.
"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details —"
"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges.
"They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids will know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts —"
"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."
He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his
pockets chinking merrily.
"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me — I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.
"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.
Renevia and her troops went around purchasing some omnoculars for each and Ron bought a huge shamrocks hat.
Their money bags were considerably lighter, so they went back to the tents. Bill,Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag.
"Here, for you,"said Ginny as she handed out the other green rosettes to Renevia," Bill bought for you!"
"Really?!" Renevia exclaimed, her eyes about to pop in disbelief while Bill just smiled at her. Renevia nudged Ginny playfully, giggling.
"Do you really like him?" Asked Hermione, looking at her. Ginny also follows her action.
"Romantically of course no, as a fan,yes, I mean look at him, isn't he hot?"
Upon hearing those answers, both Hermione and Ginny gave her with (are you kidding me)look.
And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.
"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on,let's go!"