“So, the guy who was able to get Mr. Weasley such good tickets, and Percy's boss,” Hermione said. “Well, we'll be able to see just how different the two are.”
“I can honestly tell you that they are very different,” Cedric said.
Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards,
“They've probably been there all night,” Luna said.
one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly; the man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.
Harry and Hermione both laughed at that.
“I take it that's not the proper attire to wear,” Cedric said.
“No,” Hermione said.
“Morning, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can and a punctured football.
“Hello there, Arthur,” said Basil wearily.
“Do they have shifts?” Hermione asked.
“I'm not sure,” Cedric said.
“Not on duty, eh? It’s all right for some ... we’ve been here all night ... you’d better get out of the way, we’ve got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I’ll find your campsite ... Weasley ... Weasley ...” He consulted his parchment list. “About a quarter of a mile’s walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager’s called Mr. Roberts. Diggory ... second field ... ask for Mr. Payne.”
“I think it's easy to see which of the two is more like,” Harry said.
“Yeah. The only ones who don't like Mr. Weasley are those who would willingly follow Riddle,” Cedric said. “And that's because they think he's a blood traitor for willingly consorting with Muggleborns and Muggles.”
“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.
They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon. They said goodbye to the Diggorys, and approached the cottage door.
A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres.
“Let me guess: the way he was dressed,” Harry said.
“Most likely,” Cedric answered.
When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.
“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?”
“He must've just gotten lucky with the tickets, then, if it was only booked a couple days ago,” Luna said.
“They do bookings?” Hermione said. “Why?”
“Because of how many people will be there,” Cedric said. “This way they know everyone whose there.”
“Oh,” Hermione said. “Well, I have a feeling that Mr. Roberts will probably find it strange. Muggles usually don't do something like that, after all.”
“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.
“But what if the match goes on even longer than one night?” Hermione asked. “After all, you did say that they go on until the snitch is caught.”
“I don't know,” Cedric said. “It's probably that the Ministry has something planned, though.”
“You’ll be paying now, then?” said Mr. Roberts.
“I have a feeling that he would prefer that they do,” Harry said.
“It wouldn't surprise me if some people have left without paying him in the past,” Hermione said.
“Ah – right – certainly –“ said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry towards him. “Help me, Harry,” he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart.
“I really don't see how he's having trouble with it. It's so much easier to use,” Hermione said.
“Not really,” Cedric said.
“You know numbers, right?” Hermione asked. He nodded. “The amount a note is, is right on the note. How is that hard to get?”
Cedric thought for a moment. When put like that, it did appear that wizards were rather dim for not noticing that.
“This one’s a – a – a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now ... so this is a five?”
“How did he mix up a five and a twenty?” Harry asked.
“A twenty,” Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word.
“They really need to learn how to properly use Muggle money before going somewhere that has a Muggle in charge of the money,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, because Mr. Roberts seems to be becoming quite suspicious at the moment,” Harry said.
“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.
“I suppose one could assume that he was with the way he was having trouble with the notes,” Hermione said.
“Foreign?” repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.
“You’re not the first one who’s had trouble with money,” said Mr. Roberts, scrutinising Mr. Weasley closely. “I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago.”
“I wonder who was dumb enough to do that,” Harry said.
“Probably one of the blood fanatics,” Cedric said. “They'd never willingly touch anything Muggle, after all.”
“Did you really?” said Mr. Weasley nervously.
“He knows what will happen if Mr. Roberts comes close to finding out that they're not Muggle,” Cedric said.
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 ...”
“Well, I already said why that is,” Cedric said.
“That doesn't make it any less weird to him,” Hermione pointed out.
“True,” Cedric conceded.
“Is that right?” said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn’t give it to him.
“I think Mr. Roberts is on a roll at the moment,” Harry said.
“I would have to agree,” Luna said.
“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.”
“Which also points out that they need a lesson in Muggle dressing so they don't stick out,” Hermione said.
“Shouldn’t he?” said Mr. Weasley anxiously.
“No, not in that combination,” Harry said.
“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.”
“We might not all know each other, but it kind of is a big party,” Cedric said.
At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts’s front door.
“I don't think that'll help,” Hermione said.
“I think it doesn't matter,” Luna said, having he feeling that she knew what job that person had.
“Obliviate!” he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.
Luna nodded to herself. Just as she figured.
“Why is...” Harry started to ask, before remembering what he spell did. “They erased everything he just said from his mind, didn't they?”
“Yeah,” Cedric said. “It's what they do to Muggles who see or get suspicious our world.”
“But what about the parents of Muggleborns?” Hermione asked. “Do they end up having to go through this at some point? I mean, what if they talk or something. Will they have to deal with something like this?”
“I don't know,” Cedric said, frowning as he thought about it. It was a good question to ask.
“And another thing,” Hermione started. “If they do this to those who become suspicious, repeatedly, then what happens after doing that charm to them a lot. I mean, if they're smart enough to figure out the clues the first time, chances are that they'll do so again and again, which would require multiple times of that charm being used.”
“I think –“ Cedric started to say, before he thought about it once more. He closed his mouth, realizing that, no, no one would actually care what it did to Muggles. He'd even mentioned that most people didn't really think much about Muggles. It didn't take long to realize that no wizard would really care if something bad happened to the Muggles, so long as they didn't remember what they weren't supposed to.
Instantly, Mr. Roberts’s eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognised the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.
“I do have to wonder how you can recognize the symptoms since Lockhart is the only time you've actually seen the spell used, and you technically didn't see it,” Luna said.
“I don't know,” Harry said.
“A map of the campsite for you,” Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. “And your change.”
“At least it doesn't seem to have done much damage,” Hermione muttered.
“Thanks very much,” said Mr. Weasley.
The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them towards the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted; his chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes.
“He's probably been working even longer than those who were dealing with the Portkeys, if he looks worse than they did,” Hermione said.
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.”
“Why does he need to be charmed so much?” Harry asked.
“He must keep figuring out what he's not supposed to,” Luna said.
“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.”
“Well, if someone is doing that, it makes sense,” Hermione said.
“Blimey, I’ll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur.”
“So, someone actually doesn't appear to care for the World Cup, or, at least, for working the security for it,” Hermione said.
“It's probably the security part that he hates,” Cedric said.
He Disapparated.
“I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports?” said Ginny, looking surprised. “He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn’t he?”
“If he doesn't, then I can see why Percy doesn't care much for him,” Hermione said.
“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.”
“That doesn't really mean much, since he needs to be at least more serious about hiding things that shouldn't be said around Muggles,” Hermione said.
“He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had.”
“Which, in truth, is partially how he got the job to begin with,” Cedric said.
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 bell-pulls, or weather-vanes.
“Yeah, that's probably not helping Mr. Roberts in keeping him from thinking the thoughts that he had been thinking,” Harry said.
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.
“I wouldn't be surprised if that's the Malfoy's,” Cedric said. “I have heard rumours that Mr. Malfoy is kind of obsessed about those animals.”
“Well, it would make sense if it is theirs,” Hermione said. “From what we've heard about them so far, their rather vain and prideful, wanting to show that they don't have any Muggle blood in them.”
“Which doesn't mean much, since they didn't pop out of the ground, and they're no where near that old,” Luna said.
“That's true,” Cedric said. “They don't have a title of Ancient or Noble.”
Harry looked to ask what he meant about that, but decided not to at the moment. He'd ask about it later, maybe after the books. He's make a note of it in his notebook before he went to bed so that he wouldn't forget about it. Across from him, Hermione was thinking the same thing.
A little further on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent which had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial and fountain.
“And the point of that is to what, show off what idiots you are,” Hermione said. The other three snorted.
“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’.
“I wonder who did the sign,” Luna said, frowning.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Because whoever did it spelled Weasley W-E-E-Z-L-Y,” she explained.
“They probably spelled it as it sounded,” Hermione said.
“Couldn’t have a better spot!” said Mr. Weasley happily. “The pitch is just on the other side of the wood there, we’re as close as we could be.”
“That's cool,” Cedric said.
He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. “Right,” he said excitedly, “no magic allowed, strictly speaking,”
“Which is probably why he's excited,” Hermione said, smiling.
“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?”
“Why did he ask me?” Harry said.
“He knows you better than he does me,” Hermione said. “Strictly speaking, he met me once at Diagon Alley the summer before our second year, and I stayed with the Weasley family the day before our return to Hogwarts for our third year. You, however, have at least spent almost an entire month at his house the summer the year before our second year, so he knows you better than I do.”
Harry had never been camping in his life; the Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbour.
“I have a feeling that we'll be able to figure it out without too much trouble,” Hermione said.
However, he and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help,
“He probably got excited by something,” Cedric said.
because he got thoroughly over-excited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.
All of them stood back to admire their handiwork.
“Did any of the others help out?” Hermione said.
“I don't know,” Harry said. “It only mentioned Mr. Weasley helping out.”
Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, Harry thought, but the trouble was that once Bill, Charlie and Percy arrived, they would be a party of ten.
“Those tents won't be able to hold five people each – or, rather, the one won't be able to hold eight people, since I doubt that Mr. Weasley would be willing to let us girls sleep with any males,” Hermione said.
“They're probably wizarding tents,” Cedric said. “They might look like regular tents on the outside, but inside they are more than suitable for large groups.”
“I hope your right,” Hermione said.
Hermione seemed to have spotted this problem, too; she gave Harry a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.
“Yeah, I'm not surprised that you'd wonder about it like he would,” Cedric said. “Neither of you are used to the wizarding way of things.”
“We’ll be a bit cramped,” he called, “but I think we’ll all squeeze in. Come and have a look.”
Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-roomed flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.
“Oh, that's cool,” Harry said.
“So, it'll probably be Mr. Weasley in his own room, you sharing with Ron and maybe one or two others, and the other three or four – depending on how many share a room with you – will be in the last room,” Cedric said.
“If the tent for Ginny and I are like that, we won't have to share any rooms,” Hermione said.
“Sounds like you'll be very lucky then,” Luna said.
Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg’s; there were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs, and a strong smell of cats.
“Whoever owned the tent before must've had a few cats that they went camping with,” Harry said.
“Well, it’s not for long,” said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom.
“I wonder if all the rooms are like that, or if it's just that room,” Harry said.
“Chances are that at least two bedrooms are like that, while one is a sort of master bedroom,” Cedric said.
“I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn’t camp much any more, poor fellow, he’s got lumbago.”
“Poor guy,” Cedric said.
He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. “We’ll need water ...”
“There’s a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us,” said Ron,
“You have to like how he addresses Mr. Roberts,” Hermione said sarcastically. It was clear that she was unimpressed with his title of the site manager.
who had followed Harry inside the tent, and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions.
“That's because it's not strange to him,” Luna said.
“It’s on the other side of the field.”
“Well, why don’t you, Harry and Hermione go and get us some water, then –“ Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans, “– and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire.”
“He's going to try to do his best to act as Muggle as possible,” Cedric said.
“He's probably going to be the only one who does,” Luna mentioned.
“True, but at least, if the Ministry decides to come down hard on them – though I doubt they will – he'll at least be safe from it,” Cedric said.
“But we’ve got an oven,” said Ron, “why can’t we just –?”
“Ron, anti-Muggle security!” said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. “When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors, I’ve seen them at it!”
“Not completely true,” Hermione said. “When my parents and I go camping, we use a gas stove. It's a bit faster to, after all. I can see why he does think that, though – most pictures do show an open fire being used to cook with.”
After a quick tour of the girls’ tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys’,
“Which makes sense since there are only two of you,” Luna said.
though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.
Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Harry how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries.
“Why would you, really?” Cedric said. “It's not like it's something that stares you in the face.”
Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children;
“That makes sense, since children tend to rise pretty early,” Hermione said.
Harry had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand
“I wonder which parent he stole it from,” Luna said, amused.
“Yeah, it's for children like that in which having a fake wand would work well with,” Cedric said.
and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.
“How many times, Kevin? You don’t – touch – Daddy’s – wand – yeuch!”
“I get the feeling that she might've just stepped on it,” Harry said.
“Ew,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.
She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy’s yells – “You bust slug! You bust slug!”
A short way further on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks which rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass.
“That's not going to be good, doing that in broad daylight,” Cedric said.
A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron and Hermione, he muttered distractedly, “In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose –“
“Most likely,” Luna said.
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands;
“They better hope that they don't get caught,” Cedric said.
others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work.
“It does, though it can take some time getting used to doing it,” Hermione said.
Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire,
“They better hope that no one from the Ministry sees that, and that the Muggle stays at his cabin,” Luna said.
while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents which read: The Salem Witches’ Institute.
“Is that another school?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Luna said.
Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn’t understand a single word, the tone of every single voice was excited.
“Considering that it's the world cup, of course it's excited,” Cedric said.
“Er – is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” said Ron.
“You've probably hit the Irish supporters area, if it's gone all green,” Luna said.
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.
“It's The Shire,” Hermione said, a grin on her face. The others looked at her, wondering what she was talking about, and she realized that she should explain.
“In one of my favourite fantasy books, The Shire is an area where Hobbits – little people, near the size of the goblins, though still a bit taller than them – lived. They kind of live in these little hillocks from the Earth. The description makes me think of that,” she told them.
“Oh,” Cedric said.
“What book is it?” Harry asked, thinking that he just might like to read it himself.
“A series of books called Lord of the Rings,” Hermione said. “It's a trilogy with some other books that go to it, and it's prequel is actually called The Hobbit. They're really good.”
“It sounds like it would be interesting to read,” Luna said, and Cedric nodded in agreement.
Grinning faces could be seen under those which had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.
“Harry! Ron! Hermione!”
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.
“It sounds like his mother did the same thing that Ron's father did,” Cedric said.
“Like the decorations?” said Seamus, grinning, when Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone over to say hello. “The Ministry’s not too happy.”
“Considering how some of the other tends have been, that's actually not that bad, and almost normal,” Hermione said. “After all,
“Ah, why shouldn’t we show our colours?” 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 and Hermione beadily.
“Of course,” Cedric said.
“Not that we'd say anything else around that lot,” Harry added.
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.”
“Yeah, I'm kind of afraid to know what might've happened if we had,” Hermione said.
“I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?” said Hermione.
“Well, we'll probably go have a look,” Harry said.
“Let’s go and have a look,” said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upheld, where the Bulgarian flag, red, green and white, was fluttering in the breeze.
“I have the feeling that all the Bulgarians are in the same spot,” Luna said.
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.
“Yeah, the Ministry definitely can't complain about the Ireland fans when the Bulgarians have that,” Harry said.
“I wonder who the picture is of,” Hermione said.
“I don't know,” Cedric said. “I don't recognise the description.”
“Krum,” said Ron quietly.
“What?” said Hermione.
“Krum!” said Ron. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!”
“I have a feeling that he must be really good, for Ron's reaction,” Luna said.
“He looks really grumpy,” said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.
“It sounds like he is,” Cedric said.
“ 'Really grumpy'?” Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. “Who cares what 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.”
“If Ron says it, I would trust it,” Cedric said. “He would know, after all.”
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument.
“I wonder why they're having an argument,” Luna said.
One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown.
Hermione snorted, shaking her head.
The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
“I think it's understandable as to why,” Hermione said, laughing a bit.
“Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap, you can’t walk around like that, the Muggle on the gate’s already getting suspicious –“
“That's very true,” Harry said,
“I bought this in a Muggle shop,” said the old wizard stubbornly. “Muggles wear them.”
“He should realize that Muggle shops have the clothes separated by gender,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.
“More like they wear something like those,” Harry said. “They don't wear flowery nightgowns.”
“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze round my privates, thanks.”
Hermione couldn't hold it any more; she burst out in laughter at that, Harry chuckling himself.
Luna and Cedric were both just shaking their heads at this Archie guy.
Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue, and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away again.
“Yeah, I don't think that it would look good if you were caught laughing at him,” Harry said.
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, dragged Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him,
“I wonder if either of his parents are as mad about Quidditch as he is,” Hermione said
and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team.
“I have a feeling that it won't be long before he's the actually keeper,” Luna said,
Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth-year,
“At least he's acting nicer to you this time around,” Cedric said.
and a little further 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.
“Looks like you still have that crush of Chang,” Cedric said. Luna frowned, not liking that little fact for some reason, just as she hadn't liked some of the interaction between Harry and Hermione before, only slightly stronger.
More to stop Ron smirking than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.
“Who d’you reckon they are?” he said. “They don’t go to Hogwarts, do they?”
“Probably not, since you don't appear to know them all to well,” Hermione said.
“ ’Spect they go to some foreign school,” said Ron. “I know there are others, never met anyone who went to one though.”
“That's not surprising, considering how strongly his mother hold onto him. He really hasn't had a chance to meet anyone else,” Luna said.
“Bill had a pen-friend at a school in Brazil ... this was years and years ago ... and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn’t afford it. His pen-friend got all offended when he said he wasn’t going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up.”
“I take it that the friend was very bitter about that fact, though it wasn't his fault,” Hermione said.
Harry laughed, but didn’t voice the amazement he felt at hearing about other wizarding schools. He supposed, now he saw representatives of so many nationalities in the campsite, that he had been stupid never to realise that Hogwarts couldn’t be the only one. He glanced at Hermione, who looked utterly unsurprised by the information. No doubt she had run across the news about other wizarding schools in some book or other.
“Most likely,” Hermione agreed.
“You’ve been ages,” said George, when they finally got back to the Weasleys’ tents.
“We ran into a few people we knew, and there was a line,” Cedric said.
“Met a few people,” said Ron, setting the water down. “You not got that fire started yet?”
“Probably not,” Cedric said.
“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” said Fred.
Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
“There's probably quite a few matches around the ground, then,” Harry said,
Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
“At least he's having fun,” Hermione said.
“Oops!” he said, as he managed to light a match, and promptly dropped it in surprise.
“So, he was able to do it right, but ended up losing it because he wasn't expecting it,” Cedric said.
“If Hermione or I don't help him out soon, we'll most likely end up having to wait even longer for him to get it,” Harry said.
“Come here, Mr. Weasley,” said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and starting to show 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.
“At least we're not starving,” Hermione said, glad that Mrs. Weasley had the foresight to at least make sure they ate before they left.
There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the pitch, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed.
“You can definitely tell that Mr. Weasley is well liked, if they're greeting him as they pass, and cordially at that,” Harry said.
Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary,
“Probably for Hermione's and my benefit,” Harry said.
“Yeah, his children most likely know a lot about the Ministry, enough that it can't really be interesting to them all that much,” Hermione said
mainly for Harry 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 ...”
“That's interesting,” Hermione said.
“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?” Harry asked.
“Unspeakables, from the Department of Mysteries,” Cedric said. “That's a top-secret department, no one other than them know what goes on there.”
“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 towards them.
“That's just pure luck there,” Luna said. “Them coming just as the food is starting.”
“Just Apparated, Dad,” said Percy loudly.
“How rude of him, rubbing it in,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
“Ah, excellent, lunch!”
They were halfway through their plates of sausages and eggs when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding towards them. “Aha!” he said. “The man of the moment! Ludo!”
“So, it's time to meet this irresponsible Ludo Bagman,” Hermione said.
Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress.
“That's probably not good if he can be more noticeable than Archie the flower nightdress wearing wizard,” Harry said.
He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal strips of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest.
“He's wearing his old Quidditch robes,” Cedric said.
He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England.
“I don't think he did,” Cedric said – Bagman had retired as a Beater the year before his first Quidditch game, and he didn't quite remember what the man looked like before he was the head of the department as he was.
His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought),
“Most likely,” Luna said.
“I think him getting his nose squashed was a part of the injuries he suffered at his last game,” Cedric said. “I can't be sure, though. All I know is that he was injured pretty badly at his last game and he quit after it.”
but his round blue eyes, short blond hair and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
“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.
'Not surprising,” Luna said. “Considering that he used to play, it makes sense that he's excited about a match.”
“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!”
“Now I have a feeling that's anything but true,” Hermione said stonily. “Just because the day and night are going to be perfect for the game doesn't mean that there's nothing for you to do. You could be helping with the security, after all.”
By the tone in Hermione's voice, it was obvious that she didn't think much about Bagman after hearing what he said.
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire which was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
“Yeah, that right there shows that he could be doing something to help out,” Harry said, shaking his head.
Percy hurried forwards with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him wanting to make a good impression.
“Not surprising. Even if you don't approve of someone doesn't mean that you can't have good manners towards them,” Luna said.
“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”
“I wonder how he realized he had them wrong,” Hermione said.
“He's one of the few that actually can tell them apart,” Luna said. “It's funny to watch them try and trick him, only to be disappointed when it doesn't work.”
“– Bill, Charlie, Ron – my daughter, Ginny – and Ron’s friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.”
“And, probably like everyone else in the world, he's going to realize what my name is, and is going to look at my scar,” Harry said.
Bagman did the smallest of double-takes when he heard Harry’s name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upwards 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.
“It was nice of him,” Harry said.
“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 wouldn't,” Cedric said. “My mother has heard some vague rumours that he has a bit of a gambling problem, and doesn't always pay people off. Mind you, these are just vague rumours.”
“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.
“Knowing Mr. Weasley, I doubt his bet will be a big one,” Luna said.
“I have a feeling he was hoping for more money than that,” Hermione said.
but recovered himself. “Very well, very well ... any other takers?”
“They’re a bit young to be gambling,” said Mr. Weasley.
“I think that's a bit of what Mrs. Weasley would think and because he doesn't want anyone to lose any money if they lose,” Harry said.
“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 win – but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.”
“That's an interesting bet,” Hermione said.
“And probably likely to be true,” Cedric said, thinking. “If Bagman is right about the Chasers for Ireland, and Ron is right about Krum, then chances are that they'll definitely win that bet.”
“Oh, and we’ll throw in a fake wand.”
“Bagman will probably like that,” Luna said. Everything said about him so far seemed to point to it.
“You don’t want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that –“ Percy hissed,
“You know, just because Percy doesn't approve of jokes doesn't mean that everyone else is like him,” Hermione said. 'From what I can tell, chances are that Bagman will like the fake wands.”
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 convincing in years! I’d pay five Galleons for that!”
“Percy's going to end up being stunned and disapproving of that,” Harry said.
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 –“
“Will not be happy with them,” Hermione said.
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Arthur!” boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly.
“Somehow, I have a feeling he's being like that because of the fact that they'll giving him a lot more than a Galleon,” Cedric said.
“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 looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins’ names.
“Cheers,” said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully.
“Yeah, he doesn't want to lose that,” Luna said.
Bagman turned most 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 number’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.”
“Somehow, I have a feeling that this is going to set off Percy,” Hermione said.
“Mr. Crouch?” said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. “He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll ...”
“Anyone can speak Troll,” said Fred dismissively, “all you have to do is point and grunt.”
The four snorted.
“At least someone was able to stop him before he can really get going,” Luna said.
Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look, and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
“Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?” Mr. Weasley asked, as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.
“Doubt it,” Cedric said.
“I have the feeling that he wouldn't think that sending someone to look for her is worth it when they have to deal with the Quidditch World Cup,” Hermione said. “Or, they have something else to deal with.”
“Basically, you think he's just going say that there's no one who can be spared at the moment,” Cedric said.
“Yup,” Hermione said.
“Not a dicky bird,” said Bagman comfortably. “But she’ll turn up. Poor old Bertha ... memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She’ll wander back into the office some time in October, thinking it’s still July.”
“That doesn't mean that he shouldn't have someone looking for her,” Harry said.
“You don’t think it might be time to send someone to look for her?” Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively, as Percy handed Bagman his tea.
“Barty Crouch keeps saying that,” said Bagman,
“Probably because he's responsible,” Luna said.
his round eyes widening innocently, “but we really can’t spare anyone at the moment.”
“I had a feeling he'd do that,” Hermione said
“Oh – talk of the devil! Barty!”
“And now it's time to meet the person who Percy works for and admirer's deeply,” Luna said.
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 grey hair was almost unnaturally straight and his narrow toothbrush moustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide-rule. His shoes were very highly polished.
“He looks as though he's a bank manager in the Muggle world,” Harry said.
“I think it's easy to understand why Percy idolises him,” Luna said.
Harry could see at once why Percy idolised him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed as a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.
“I had to say, I do believe that to be true,” Harry said.
“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.”
“That's probably what the ones who were talking to Bagman were trying to get,” Hermione said.
“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.”
“He really should learn their language if he's going to talk to them,” Luna said.
“Mr. Crouch!” said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half bow which made him look like a hunchback. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Oh,” said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise.
“I don't think he was expecting to see him,” Cedric said.
“Yes – thank you, Weatherby.”
Cedric and Harry snorted at that.
“I don't think that Mr. Crouch shares Percy's feelings,” Luna said, which caused Hermione to snort as well.
Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.
“Oh, dear. This is something that the twins will most likely make fun of him for,” Hermione said.
“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 have a feeling that this is something that he's told him several times before,” Hermione said.
“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 Artefact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?”
“Probably not, since he wants to export there,” Cedric said.
“I doubt it,” said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. “He’s desperate to export here.”
“I do not think it can be healthy to have the same thoughts as him,” Cedric muttered.
“Well, they’ll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?” said Bagman.
“I don't think anyone will dignify that with an answer,” Luna said.
“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.
“Which means that, chances are, there are some that didn't,” Hermione said.
“So, been keeping busy, Barty?” said Bagman breezily.
“Most likely,” Cedric said.
“Fairly,” said Mr. Crouch drily. “Organising Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo.”
“I expect you’ll both be glad when this is over?” said Mr. Weasley.
“Mr. Crouch probably will be, but Bagman most likely won't,” Luna said.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked. “Glad! Don’t know when I’ve had more fun ...”
“That's probably only because he's an idiot who is doing nothing to help,” Hermione said.
“still, it’s not as though we haven’t got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organise, eh?”
Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman. “We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details –“
“Do you think this has something to do with what Percy was talking about before,” Harry said.
“Most likely,” Cedric said, thinking about what it might be.
“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’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s happening at Hogwarts –“
“So, whatever it is, it's happening at Hogwarts,” Harry said, frowning. He really didn't like the sound of that.
“Well, I have a feeling that we will not be finding out what it is in this chapter,” Hermione said. “Not with Mr. Crouch there.”
“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 again, 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”
“The top box! You're so lucky,” Cedric said.
“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?”
“I don't think that Mr. Weasley will tell them. My guess is that no one is suppose to know,” Hermione said.
“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.
“Thank you, Fred,” Cedric said.
A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on.
“The match is coming closer,” Cedric said. “Of course people are going to be excited.”
By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable, and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.
“Too many people doing it, and not enough Ministry officials to help stop it,” Luna said.
Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes – green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria – which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared,
“Those lions would go great for Gryffindor,” Hermione said. “Particularly if they're red.”
flags from both countries which played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts, which really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
“Been saving my pocket money all summer for this,” Ron told Harry, as they and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs.
“I hope that nothings cheap and shoddy,” Harry said.
Though Ron purchased himself a dancing-shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backwards and forwards over Ron’s hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.
“I don't think he likes being near it,” Luna said.
“Wow, look at these!” said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered in all sorts of weird knobs and dials.
“Omnioculars,” said the saleswizard eagerly.
“He's probably hoping for a sale,” Cedric said. “They are usually expensive, after all.”
“You can replay action ... slow everything down ... and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain – ten Galleons each.”
“That's not too bad,” Luna said.
“Ron won't be able to afford them,” Cedric said.
“I'll probably buy him a pair,” Harry said.
“Which he probably won't truly appreciate, because it'll probably just remind him that he doesn't have a lot of money,” Hermione said.
“Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.
“Three pairs,” said Harry firmly to the wizard.
“Oh, thank you Harry,” Hermione said to him.
“No – don’t bother,” said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.
“If the fact that he's touchy about something I actually can't help, then I can't see our friendship lasting, or surviving unless he keeps from having jealousy attacks about it, and also is willing to accept when I want to buy something for him because I want to,” Harry said.
“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry told him,
“Now I have a feeling you're lying about that,” Hermione said.
“I most likely am, if it gets him to take them,” Harry said.
thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.”
“One year for how much they costed,” Luna said.
“Fair enough,” said Ron, grinning.
“Oooh, thanks, Harry,” said Hermione.
“At least you didn't argue,” Harry said.
“I know that you're being a friend,” Hermione said.
“And I’ll get us some programmes, look –“
Their money bags considerably lighter,
“Makes sense,” Luna said.
they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag.
“A clear sign of which team your supporting,” Cedric said.
Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.
“That sucks for them. Hopefully, they win their bet,” Luna said.
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 pitch.
“It's time,” Cedric said, fairly bouncing up and down in his seat.
“It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. “Come on, let’s go!”
“And that's the end of the chapter,” Harry said.
“Great,” Hermione said, a bit unenthusiastically. “I'm so lucky.” She just knew that the next chapter would be a Quidditch one, and she wasn't looking forward to reading it. Still, she took the book from him, turning it to the next page.