Brighter Than the Sun

Chapter Thirty-Six

Clutching our purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, we all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. I could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious. I couldn't stop grinning. We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until we emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. I could only see a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, but I could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on my face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again. . . bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"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. "

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Our party kept climbing, and finally we reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here. As I filed into the front seats with the Weasleys Harry, and Hermione, I looked down upon a glorious scene.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from the Top Box. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite us, almost at eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again. I saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

"Wow," I sighed. This was one of the the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

"Dobby?" said Harry incredulously from beside me. I turned in my seat, about to ask what the heck a Dobby was. He'd reversed in his chair and was looking at a small creature sitting in the row behinds us with enormous bat-like ears, covering its eyes and quivering. A House-Elf.

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew. "

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free. "