The Quidditch World Cup is a very grand national event. Whenever the game is held, a large number of Quidditch enthusiasts from all over the world will gather.
Therefore, the venue is very particular.
First of all, Quidditch is an outdoor sport, so the Invisible Stretch Charm is useless. Therefore, the place must be large enough to accommodate the arrival of large numbers of guests.
Secondly, not only does a stadium need to be set up here, it also needs a camping site where spectators can set up tents to spend the night.
After all, there's no telling how long a match will last—in theory, it will continue until either Seeker catches the Snitch.
Records show that the longest match lasted for three months!
And finally, this place must have a Muggle-Expelling Charm to ensure that it is not seen by Muggles who accidentally pass by. Such a large area requires a lot of manpower to maintain.
Needless to say, when the normally undisciplined wizards get together, things can easily get messy.
Mr. Weasley led the children forward, looking for where the tent site he had reserved was.
They trudged through the misty camp, passing between two long rows of tents.
Most of the tents don't look special. Obviously, their owners have tried their best to make them look like Muggle tents as much as possible, but some accidentally went too far and added chimneys and bells. Rope or weather vane, made nondescript.
However, occasionally there are a few tents that are enchanted at a glance.
Harry thought to himself, no wonder the Muggle who sold the tickets just now was suspicious!
That's right, because the Prime Minister has a long-term relationship with the Ministry of Magic. Whenever such a large-scale event occurs, the Muggle boss will always find some reason to send someone to keep an eye on it. Even if they definitely don’t remember anything when they go back.
"He has caused me a lot of trouble. In order to keep him in a happy mood, I have to recite the Forgetting Curse more than ten times a day." Previously, a wizard wearing bloomers with an exhausted face said this.
In the center of the camp, there are several tents that stand out.
It uses a lot of striped silk very extravagantly, almost like a small palace, and there are several live peacocks tied at the entrance. A little further ahead, they saw another tent set up in the shape of a four-story building with several turrets next to it.
Further over there, there is a garden in front of a tent with a bird bath, sundial, fountain, etc.
And the thing that most people couldn't take their eyes away from was a super large tent that covered an area several times larger than the largest tent. From Harry's perspective, it couldn't be called a tent anymore.
"Whose family does that belong to... um..." Harry couldn't help but said, "Should I call it a 'tent'?"
"Oh... yes, I remember that location... It seems to be from some French family." Mr. Weasley thought for a moment and said, "It looks very grand, doesn't it?"
"It's always like this," Mr. Weasley said with a smile, "When everyone gets together, they can't help but want to show off... Ah, here we are, look! This is our place!"
They came to the edge of the woods at the end of the camp. There was a clearing here, and a small sign was stuck on the ground with three words written on it: Wezley.
The people from the Ministry of Magic even spelled their names wrong, so it seems like it's really busy here.
"This place couldn't be better!" Mr. Weasley said happily. "The venue is on the other side of the forest, as close as you can get." He took off his backpack from his shoulders.
"Okay," he said excitedly, "Strictly speaking, magic is not allowed, since so many of us have come to Muggle territory. We have to put up the tent with our own hands! It shouldn't be too difficult... Ma That's what melons do... By the way, Harry, where do you think we should start..."
Compared to those big families, Mr. Weasley can only rely on himself. But it has to be said that poor people also have the joy of being poor, which is something that those noble families cannot appreciate.
For example, right now in a luxurious tent, the Malfoy family is sitting leisurely on chairs enjoying fragrant tea after breakfast.
"Dad, I think... can I go out for a walk?" Draco didn't want to make his father angry, because he had been acting weird recently and his temper was worse than before.
"No!" Lucius glanced at his son and said in a more serious tone, "Just stay in the tent. You are not allowed to go anywhere before the game starts!"
After speaking, Lucius subconsciously looked outside the tent, although there was nothing worthy of his attention except the crowds of people constantly coming and going.
The Dark Lord is back, he's really back! But since the last time old Avery suddenly came to his home as a guest, his heart has been hanging in the air.
Yes, he lost the diary that Voldemort gave him - although he originally planned to get rid of it, but who knew, someone actually knew about it and asked old Avery to serve as a mouthpiece to warn him he!
This is so bad!
Some time ago, the Dark Mark on his arm suddenly started to vibrate - obviously, his old master had quietly returned!
Not long after, a man in a cloak suddenly came to his bedside. That uneasy feeling immediately woke him up from his restless sleep...
"Who are you?"
Lucius forced himself to calm down and stared at the opponent's hood, but he almost frightened him - he could see nothing in there, except darkness, and there was black air lingering out of it. .
That feeling was even scarier than facing a dementor directly.
"Lucius Malfoy...are you still a Death Eater crawling at the master's feet?" the man asked in a stiff tone.
Lucius immediately understood that this was the servant of the Dark Lord!
"Of course! I, Lucius Malfoy, will always be loyal to the Dark Lord!"
"Then prove it with actions." The man threw an envelope from his long sleeves, and Lucius caught it.
Then, the weird man suddenly turned into a ball of black gas, flew out of the window, and quickly disappeared into the night sky.
At this moment, when he thought about what he was going to do next, Lucius was suddenly disturbed. He stood up and kept pacing back and forth in the tent, with a tangled look on his face.
But he doesn't know it yet, but he won't be able to do it if he doesn't want to.
…
While Lucius was still worried between interests and fears, Harry and the others had already set up the tent. The boys quickly visited the girls' tent and found that it was only slightly smaller than the boys' tent. But it didn't always smell like cat like in their tent.
Then, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Luna carried kettles and stew pots and walked through the increasingly crowded camp to fetch water from the place marked with the "tap" mark on the map.
At this time, the sun had just risen and the mist gradually dispersed. They saw tents in all directions, with no end in sight.
Several people walked slowly between the tents, looking around with interest. Only then did Harry realize that there were so many wizards and wizards in the world. He had never seriously thought about what wizards from other countries were like before!
On the site, the campers who had arrived last night were gradually waking up.
The first to get up were families with children. Harry had never seen such a young wizard before - he saw a little boy about two years old squatting outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand in his hand, looking happy. The ground poked a slug in the grass.
Every time the little boy poked the slug, it swelled in size and soon became a big sausage. As they reached him, the boy's mother hurried out of the tent.
"How many times have I told you, Kevin? You're not allowed to - touch - your dad's wand again - Ouch!"
She stepped on the huge slug, and it exploded with a "pop".
"Oh - God!" Ron groaned, his face scrunched up.
Everyone felt that the scene was a bit nauseating.
But Luna just shook her head and said: "Well... Fortunately it's not a Flobber caterpillar... Otherwise, we would have suffered a lot."
They walked far away, and heard her shouting in the silent air, mixed with the little boy's cry - "You have crushed the bugs! You have crushed the bugs!"
After walking for a while, they saw two little witches, about the same age as Kevin, riding on two toy broomsticks, flying low, their feet lightly skimming the dewy grass.
A wizard working in the ministry had already seen them. As he hurried past Harry and the others, he muttered uneasily: "It's broad daylight! My parents are probably still sleeping in-"
From time to time they could see adult wizards emerging from their tents and starting to make breakfast. Some looked furtively and lit the fire with their wands; some struck matches with doubtful expressions on their faces, as if they thought it would definitely not work.
On the other side, three African male wizards were sitting there talking seriously about something. They were all wearing long white robes and roasting something like a hare on a pile of purple fire.
Another group of middle-aged American male wizards sat there talking and laughing, with a shiny banner hanging high between their tents: Salem Wizarding Academy.
Later, as he passed some tents, he heard fragments of conversation in a strange-sounding language—he couldn't understand a word of it.
But today, here, everyone speaks with such excitement!
At this time, over the cloudy North Sea, more than a dozen wizards in ragged clothes riding brooms were speeding along against the waves; and not far in front of them, a young man was sitting astride a hippogriff. On the back of the winged beast, there is an owl flying beside it.
On the sea surface behind them, long tail marks caused by air currents gradually spread...