I turned to see two very disgruntled wizards behind us. Their Muggle outfits weren't nearly as incognito as Mr. Weasley's. I eyed the thigh-high galoshes on the one with the watch with alarm.
This was the one (Basil, apparently) that got us sorted out with our campsite. We followed him about twenty minutes to a stone cottage where a man was waiting in the doorway. I could tell that he was a real Muggle by how he was dressed so normally.
"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley.
"Morning," said the man blankly. He seemed a little out of it.
"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," he replied. "And who're you?"
"Weasley — two tents, booked a couple days ago?" Mr. Weasley nodded, and Roberts gestured to the list that was tacked on the door.
"You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?" Mr. Roberts looked curiously at all of us behind Mr. Weasley.
Mr. Weasley nodded. "That's it!"
"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr. Roberts raised an eyebrow.
"Ah — right — certainly," Mr. Weasley backed up slightly and turned to face us. He beckoned Harry forward and pulled a roll of Muggle pounds from his pocket. "This one's a — a — a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now. . . So this is a five?"
"You foreign?" Mr. Roberts asked when Mr. Weasley finally handed him the notes.
"Foreign?" Mr. Weasley repeated.
"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, looking at Mr. Weasley with increasing scrutiny. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."
"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.
"Never been this crowded," Mr. Roberts began to pull change out from a tin, looking over the misty field of tents. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up. . ."
"Is that right?" Mr. Weasley swallowed.
"Aye," Mr. Roberts replied. "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."
At this, a wizard suddenly appeared from behind him in the doorway, hastily performing the memory charm.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said afterward, his suspicion dissipated. "And your change."
"Thank you very much," said Mr. Weasley, looking relieved.
The wizard who had performed the Memory Charm came with us to the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted.
"Been having a lot of trouble with him." He said tiredly. "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 a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."
He Disapparated, leaving us together at the gate.
"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," piped up Ginny. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"
"He should," Mr. Weasley smiled knowingly as we entered 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."
We continued to walk on the path between the rows of tents. While most of them looked ordinary, there were quite a few that were so extravagant it was really no wonder Mr. Roberts was suspicious. We had reached a blank stretch of field at the end. There was a small sign hammered into the ground that read "WEEZLY."
"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be."
Mr. Weasley was eager to set up the tents by hand, the way Muggles do it. I had gone camping only once when I was much younger — neither my father or I had enjoyed it much. My favorite part was starting the fire — I almost singed my hair off. I doubted Harry had ever gone camping with the Dursley's, since he was looking to Hermione.
Thankfully, she was able to figure it out on her own. Mr. Weasley got a bit too excitable with the mallet, but in the end, the job got done.
The three of us were looking at the boy's tent incredulously — there was no way it would be able to fit everyone. Fred handed us our tent from his back and Hermione, Ginny, and I set to work on ours while the boys explored theirs. I nearly dropped the mallet when I saw Mr. Weasley crawl in, followed by Harry, followed by the twins, followed by Ron, without any sort of bulging or cramping from the sides.
"Huh?" I was truly at a loss for words.
"Probably an Undetectable Extension Charm," said Hermione excitedly. "Hurry — we'll see ours when it's all done!"
After our tent was erected, we climbed in and I gasped. Inside the tiny tent was an entire three room flat complete with a kitchen and bathroom.
"What did I tell you?" Hermione grinned while looking around at the rooms. "But honestly, this is incredible! I'll bet the boy's is bigger too."
"I wonder what it's like if you just crawled in without any of the poles," I said curiously. "Would it be all squished on the inside or would there be nothing to see?"
"We can test that out when we're packing up tomorrow," Ginny said. "There's no way I'm taking this down again after all that work."
We took a tour of the boys tent afterward, which was, in fact. bigger, but there was a prominent smell of cats. I decided I rather liked our tent better.
"We established that we'll need some water," said Mr. Weasley. "Girls, there's a tap on the other side of the field. You could grab some for us, if you don't mind," Mr. Weasley said to us. "The rest of us can gather wood for a fire."
"But we've got an oven," Ron said pointedly. "Why can't we just —"
"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" Mr. Weasley protested. I could tell he was really just excited to do things the Muggle way. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"
Mr. Weasley handed us some buckets and a kettle to go fill at the tap. Now that the sun was up, the mist was beginning to clear and we had a good view of the tents around us. We passed a myriad of strange things on our way over, many of them being small children playing with their parents' wands or riding toy broomsticks. Many wizards and witches were making breakfast — stealthily starting fires with their wands or using matches with incredulous looks on their faces.
It truly astounded me how many cultures and countries were here to watch the World Cup. I truly hadn't thought about how many magical people existed in the word beforehand. I wondered what their Wizarding schools were like.
There were many languages I didn't recognize, and the various foods being cooked made for a sensual feast. My stomach growled. Hermione giggled and led me toward a concession stand selling food.
"I dunno, I'm not sure I could finish a whole turkey leg," Ginny mused, looking at the options.
"I could," I said as I got in line. "I'll get you a side of poutine. I think you'd like it."
After getting food, I turned around to see a few familiar faces walking in our direction. A grin quickly stretched across my lips.
"I'll be right back." I shoved the carton into Ginny's hands and dashed away with my turkey leg. Vaguely, I heard Ginny groan, "there she goes again."
"Draco!" I exclaimed as I approached him. The three of them — him, Pansy, and Blaise — all turned around at once.
"You know, I saw some figurines over this way that I think you'd like—" Pansy said hastily as she dragged Blaise away. Despite the distance, I could see very clearly that they were watching us. When I turned back to Draco, though, he still had yet to respond. He was looking between my hair and my face and my clothes with what I could only describe as fascination.
"Your hair," he finally decided.
"What of it?" I tilted my head, not-so-subtly flouncing it around.
"What do you mean what of it?" He scoffed. "You can't just— well, you've every right to, that's not what I meant — but, it's so, so—"
"Short?" I supplied.
"It suits you." Draco finally concluded. That familiar smirk finally appeared. "Though I hardly recognized you. I'm not used to you wearing anything but your uniform, or pajamas."
"Angela's taken to playing dress up." I informed him solemnly. "I don't hate it, but the band tees are too much of a classic to give up."
Draco rolled his eyes and started to walk away. "Oh joy."
"Oh, can it," I chased after him despite myself. I turned around, and Hermione and Ginny were long gone. Blaise and Pansy still followed at a distance. "You wouldn't know good music if it was the only thing you'd ever listened to. Speaking of which, I have so much to play for you at Hogwarts."
"I'm thrilled," he drawled. "Tell me what it'll be— loud guitar and drums or louder guitar and drums?"
I rolled my eyes. "Very funny, Draco. I'll have you know I've learned the value of variety."
Over the summer, I'd exchanged several owls with Blaise. Most of them contained messages to deliver to Draco in person, since his parents were usually the ones to go through the mail. I talked a lot about my music, which he must have told Pansy about, because she'd made him listen to a few of the songs himself. He gave me reviews of what he liked and didn't like, most of which being the latter.
On Draco's end, though, I heard a lot about his life at home. His father hadn't been at all pleased with his Muggle Studies mark — second-highest, after Hermione (who had managed a 320%). Even though the rest of his grades were exemplary, he'd been shut in the house for a week, and would have been banned from coming to the Quidditch World Cup if he hadn't dropped the class.
"I sure hope so, though I doubt we'll have much free time, what with the Tournament at all." Draco's declaration interrupted my thoughts. He said this like I was supposed to know what he was talking about, so I didn't hesitate to clarify.
"The Tournament?" I repeated.
"Ah, you wouldn't know." He grinned mischievously. "It's supposed to be top secret, but it'll be just about all anyone will talk about as soon as this is over. The Ministry's been in shambles trying to plan both of them at once."
"What is it?" I inquired, curious for more.
Much to my disappointment, Draco merely shrugged. "Can't tell you that, it's top secret."
"You're horrible." I glared. "Good thing being your friend has taught me the value of patience."
"Just as being your friend has taught me not to ask too many questions." Clearly he hadn't actually learned anything, or perhaps he was being ironic, because he followed with a question. "You're here with the Weasley's, then?"
"I am." I grinned at him. "I heard we'll be sharing the Top Box."
"Unbelievable," he rolled his eyes. "Bagman really will just let anyone in."
We reached a large patch of tents that were all covered in shamrocks, making the tents look like miniature hills.
"Lila!"
Startled by my name, I turned my head to see Dean, who had spoken, as well as Seamus, running toward us and waving. They were both decked completely in green.
"Nice to see you two again!" I gave both of them a hug at the same time, being very careful not to take them out with the bucket I still had. "Where's Neville?"
"His Gran wouldn't let him come," Seamus frowned. "A real shame. He would have liked our tent. Wanna come see it? It's right over here—"
"Finnegan! What a lovely surprise!"
Seamus groaned outwardly, for Blaise had just decided to make himself known. Pansy trailed after him, looking quite disgruntled that her partner had blown their cover.
"Blaise!" Dean, on the other hand, looked positively wicked with glee. "It's so great to see you! You know, Seamus has really been looking forward to thanking you for his Transfiguration marks. Somehow he managed an E."
"I knew he could," Blaise told Dean sagely, a smile tugging at his lips. "He just needed the right kind of encouragement."
If 'the right kind of encouragement' was pushing Seamus to his very limit, Blaise had done his job well. Even now, Seamus was red in the face with either rage or mortification.
"Well, congrats on your hard work. Now, you were showing us to your tent?" Blaise gestured in a manner that said, 'lead the way.' Seamus had yet to move.
"I didn't mean to extend the invitation," Seamus said through gritted teeth.
"Nonsense!" Dean clasped his hands together and beckoned us to follow. "Right this way. Good thing you're all wearing green — Seamus' mum wouldn't have you any other way."
Seamus looked absolutely betrayed, but his feet moved of their own accord, following us back to his own tent. His mum was indeed there, looking just as festive as the two boys.
"Aye, I see ye brought friends," she grinned, opening both arms in welcome. Her accent was even stronger than Seamus'. "All rootin' for the right side as well."
"Mrs. Finnegan! How wonderful to finally meet you!" Blaise graciously extended his hand, bending forward to kiss her knuckles when she placed her own hand there. "I've heard so many interesting stories about you. You're like a celebrity."
Seamus only grew redder and redder as Blaise chatted up his mum. Draco was watching with something akin to pity. Pansy and Dean were trying desperately not to laugh.
"This is just evil," I whispered to Dean. "What are you doing this for?"
Dean ceased his snickering to tell me. "Seamus wouldn't stop bugging me about this girl in my art class that stopped by. I decided it was time for revenge."
The description registered in my mind. "Inés?"
"Yeah." Dean looked surprised. "How do you-"
He was interrupted by a hearty laugh from Mrs. Finnegan.
"Oh, what a lovely friend you've made, Seamus. I do hope to see more of you, Mr. Zabini."
"Oh please, just Blaise is fine," he bowed almost exaggeratedly. Now I wanted to giggle. "I'd best be going — my tent's quite far and my mother will be expecting me. I can't keep that woman waiting, truly, I can't."
He walked away to the sound of Mrs. Finnegan's continued laughter. After a moment's hesitation, Pansy trailed after him. Draco checked his watch.
"I suppose I should be going now too, before my parents realize I'm gone."
I blanched. "You snuck out?"
"Sneaked out, actually," Draco corrected me, like that changed the meaning at all. "But that was the easy part. Pansy and Blaise were a good distraction. Getting back in might be a challenge, so I'd better get an early start."
"I'll come with you," I suggested. "I can be quite distracting."
"I know," said Draco, before he quickly turned around and put a hand to his mouth. "Pretend I didn't say that. You shouldn't be seen with me. I'll manage on my own."
Draco exited the tent without saying goodbye. I stared after him, perplexed, then looking back to the other three remaining. Seamus seemed to be recovering now, enough to where he was glaring daggers at Dean and clenching his fists.
"You know, I should really go too," I slowly backed away, ignoring Dean's pleading looks. "I kind of ditched Ginny and Hermione, and I have to get water for our camp. It was lovely seeing you two, and meeting you, Mrs. Finnegan."
I looked around for Draco as soon as I left, but he was long gone. Pansy and Blaise as well. I supposed they were going to help him get back in. I managed to make my way to the water tap and finally fill up my bucket, arriving back at the Weasley's campsite just in time to meet someone else.
"Lila! Where have you been?" Mr. Weasley didn't seem worried, more so excited that I'd finally arrived. Ginny exchanged smug looks with her brother, Harry, and Hermione. They all knew exactly where I was, then. I'd be getting needled about this for days. "You must meet Ludo Bagman. You've heard all about him today."
"Lila, I take it?" Bagman rushed forward to shake my hand. He was wearing black and yellow striped Quidditch robes. "You're Angela's boyfriend's daughter, yes? I've heard loads about you. She speaks very, very highly of you."
"Pleasure to meet you," I smiled politely. "Angela has a terrible habit for flattery. She's quite incredible herself."
"Yes, what a lovely woman!" Bagman nodded, still smiling. "Oh, speaking of terrible habits," he turned to Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?"
Mr. Weasley ended up betting him a Galleon. Then, despite his protests, the Weasley twins offered up their life savings (plus a fake wand) that Ireland would win but Viktor Krum would get the Snitch.
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy scolded them about the fake wand, but Bagman seemed quite excited by it.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
Percy went still with shock, his face twitching.
"Boys," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "I don't want you betting. . . That's all your savings. . . Your mother—"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" Bagman insisted. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll 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 and the rest of us watched helplessly as Bagman wrote their names in his notebook, ripping out the page and handing it to George. After George pocketed it, Bagman turned cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.
"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" Percy piped up excitedly. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll. . ."
"Anyone can speak Troll," Fred rolled his eyes. "All you have to do is point and grunt."
Percy glared harshly at Fred, but the rest of us found this hysterical. Bagman himself laughed aloud again. Percy began begrudgingly stoking the fire to reheat the kettle.
"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" asked Mr. Weasley. The name startled me — I remembered it from my nightmare! Bagman sat down, shaking his head.
"Not a dicky bird," Bagman replied, seeming alarmingly unbothered. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha...memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."
"You don't suppose it might be time to send someone to look for her?" I asked. Bagman looked at me and shrugged.
"Oh, Barty Crouch keeps saying that, but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh — speak of the devil! Barty!"
Another wizard had just Apparated at our campsite. I could immediately see why Percy worshipped him. Everything about his general appearance was sharp and tidy. He reminded me a bit of the men I'd seen where my father worked.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," Ludo gestured to the patch of grass beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, impatient. "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 innocently. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr. Crouch!" Percy exclaimed, bowing awkwardly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Mr. Crouch looked surprised to see him. "Oh," he said. "Yes, thank you, Weatherby."
The twins choked on their tea. Ginny took a very long sip to hide her laughter. Percy went very pink and began to fumble with the kettle. Crouch seemed eager to speak to Mr. Weasley, though, referring to him by first name. They talked about magic carpet imports. Crouch noted that his grandfather had had one, but made it very clear that this was before they were banned. It was quite interesting to see how Crouch and Ludo worked together — one very strict about the rules and the other very careless.
"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" Bagman asked with a yawn. Apparently he'd gotten tired of carpet talk.
"Fairly," said Crouch through gritted teeth. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" Mr. Weasley asked. Crouch nodded and sipped his tea, while Bagman looked positively shocked.
"Glad?! Don't know when I've had more fun . . . Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to took forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"
Crouch gave Bagman a warning look. "We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details —"
"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving just hand flippantly. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts —"
"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," interrupted Crouch sharply. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."
He handed his mostly full teacup back to Percy and stood, waiting for Ludo to follow suit. Ludo swigged the rest of his tea and struggled to rise due to the amount of gold in his pockets.
"See you all later!" He said brightly. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me — I'm commentating!"
He waved to us once more and the two Disapparated.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" asked Fred as soon as they'd left. "What were they talking about?"
It had to be whatever Tournament Draco was talking about. But what did that entail? Why was it happening at Hogwarts?
"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley smiled. Just as vague as Draco.
"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministfy decides to release it," Percy said stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
"Oh, shut up, Weatherby," Fred replied. Percy went pink once more and didn't speak again for quite a few minutes.