Y/N's POV
We had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of moor and we set off. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate came into view.
A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. I knew at a glance that they were the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at us.
"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. Eventually, we managed to pay for the tents and we made our way to our two booked tents.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr Roberts said to Mr. Weasley, "and your change."
"Thanks very much," said Mr Weasley.
We had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and there 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, 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?"
When we finished, all of us stood back to admire our handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards. The only problem I could see was that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of eleven. Mr Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.
"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."
I bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt my jaw drop. I had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.
"Well, it's not for long," said Mr Weasley, peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom, there was also an individual bed, which I assumed was for Mr Weasley, "we have an odd number, so one of us will have to sleep in the girls' tent."
Immediately, everyone but Mr Weasley and the girls looked at me with a smirk. I went red as I shook my head violently. Luckily, Mr Weasley said that we would decided later.
Me, Harry, Hermione and Ron decided to have a look around, so after a quick tour of the girls tent, we set off. We only managed to get a quick look around the campsite before we had to go back since we had to have lunch.
Later, a half hour before the match began, the whole party set off to the stands to find out seats. Mr Weasley was grumpy since Fred and George had bet all of their savings (and some of Issac's) with Ludo Bagman. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had bought some souvenirs and were very excited for the match.
We all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. We could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us. The atmosphere of excitement was high. We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last we emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.
"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."
We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, at last we reached the top of the staircase and found ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts.
Me and Ron pulled out our Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.
"Wild!" me and Ron said, both twiddling the replay knob on the side.
Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvet covered program.
"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.
"Oh that's always worth watching." said Mr Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."
The box filled gradually around us, Mr Weasley kept shaking hands with people and Percy jumped to his feet every so often. When Cornelius Fudge arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and then remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. Fudge shook Harry's hand and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.
"Ah, and here's Lucius!" Fudge said suddenly.
We turned quickly. Right behind Mr Weasley were none other than Lucius Malfoy, Draco and Draco's mother.
"Ah, Fudge," said Mr Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic, "how are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"
"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling. "And allow me to introduce you to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"
It was a tense moment. Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy looked at each other. "Good lord, Arthur," Lucius said softly, "what did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Fudge, who wasn't listening, said. "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"How - how nice," said Mr Weasley, with a very strained smile.
Thankfully, they left for their seats and we were able to sit down as the match was beginning.
"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The team mascots were now brought out and I saw that the Bulgarians had brought Veela. My mind went numb at that point and I must've looked like an absolute idiot since Hermione had to grab the back of my shirt.
The Irish team brought out Leprechauns and I watched in my seat, still embarrassed from what happened when the Veela were there.
After all the mascot performances, they introduced both teams and finally, the match began.
I watched everything through my Omnioculars even though I could barely keep up. By the time I sorted out the Omnioculars, Ireland were leading.
Just then, the two seekers plummeted so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. I followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was-
"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione next to me.
She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud.
I hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on my Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to my eyes.
I watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across my lenses. I saw Krum's face filled with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was flattened, and I understood, Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him.
After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten.
Suddenly, the Irish seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and I was quite sure that this was the real thing...
"He's seen the Snitch!" I shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"
Half the crowd seemed to have realised what was happening. The Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their seeker on, but Krum was on his tail.
"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.
"They're not!" roared Ron.
"Lynch is!" yelled Harry.
And he was right, Lynch hit the ground.
"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" asked Ron.
"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" I shouted.
Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.
The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. Suddenly, all the Irish supporters into a tremendous cheer, louder than anything I had ever heard before.
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted.
"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
I kept on cheering for Ireland, this was a surreal experience and I wanted, one day, to experience what it would be like to be Krum and catch the Snitch in such an important match but with my team actually winning.