______________________________________________________________________________
"There are darknesses in life
and there are lights,
and you
are one of the lights,
the light of all lights."
______________________________________________________________________________
Betelgeuse gazed at her surroundings with keen grey eyes.
They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of the misty moor. In front of them was a pair of worn and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, or what they believed Muggles clothed with. The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes, his colleague, a kilt, and a poncho.
"Morning, Basil," Arthur greeted, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him.
"Hello there, Arthur," the man replied wearily. "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."
"Thanks, Basil," Arthur said, and he beckoned everyone to follow him. They set off across the abandoned 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, Betelgeuse could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.
"Enjoy the match, Betelgeuse," Cedric spoke, a gentle smile on his handsome face.
"You too, Diggory," Betelgeuse returned, hearing a grumble come from beside her.
"Shut up, Fred," George grunted, "Pretty-boy can't hold a candle to you, you bloody himbo."
As they approached the cottage door, a man stood in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Betelgeuse's eyebrows raised in surprise upon noticing the solitary man.
A Muggle.
When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.
"Morning!" Mr Weasley said brightly.
"Morning," the Muggle replied.
"Would you be Mr Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," Mr Roberts stated. "And who're you?"
"Weasley — two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye," Mr Roberts nodded, consulting a list pinned to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's it," Arthur said.
"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr Roberts asked.
"Ah — right — certainly —" Arthur answered. Betelgeuse watched him retreat a short distance from the cottage and beckon Harry.
YOU ARE READING
𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺
FanfictionKalon /kA-lon/ (n.) Beauty that is more than skin-deep ❝In the dark depth of her steel gaze, you can see the brightest of the stars. She has magic in her eyes that even the stars envy.❞ "Blimey Fred, are you one of those anguished cursed poets now...
