The Other Potter. Book Four.

Quidditch World Cup

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, even as my head pounded. We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last we emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though I could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, 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 our left and right. Our party kept climbing, and at last we reached the top of the staircase and found ourselves 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, and I, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which I could never have imagined.

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 their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at my 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; watching it, I saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.  

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burgler Buzzer…

Mrs. Shower’s All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!…

Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade… 

Willowing Willows – Tasty Treats make Great gifts!

“IT SAYS MY NAME! I’M A CHOCOLATE!” I screamed at the board.

My head throbbed with the sound.

I wonder if chopping my head off will stop my headache.

“There’s a flaw in that plan.” Lucy mentioned. “You die.”

Good point.

 I tore my eyes away from the sign and looked over my shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind us. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, batlike ears were oddly familiar… It must have been a House-elf.

I noticed Harry was looking at it too.

“Dobby?” said Harry incredulously.  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. It wasn’t Dobby – it was, however, unmistakably a house-elf.