Julie Stone was a regular girl; she lived in an orphanage, had some friends, and every now and then would bang her head against the wall due to stress. . . . Normal!
Anyway, all her life Julie never seemed to quite fit in. She loved it, but her life...
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𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒄𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔
────── *•. ⚡︎ .•*──────
A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. 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 pretense disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.
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, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that 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 and Hermione, as they strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs.
Though Ron purchased 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 backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.
"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.
"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain—ten Galleons each."
"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.
"No—don't bother," said Ron, going red.
He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small for- tune from his parents, had much more money than he did.
"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."
"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.
"Wicked. Thanks, Harold," said Hermione. "Picture time!" She smiled and turned the camera taking a picture of the three.
Their money bags considerably lighter—Hermione had only bought paint face, though—, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold. But Hermione insisted on them getting their face painted—all of them, mind you. So after many lines on their faces (and a picture of them all taken), they were ready.
