Magic? || Years 1-5

Top Box: Year 4/Summer

Tightening the rosette in her hair, Amisty adjusted her grip on the Omnioculars and bounced along with the rest of them as they walked along the lantern-lit path.

The sound of the crowd was so cheerful she had trouble not smiling.

There was singing, laughter, shouts, and thousands of pairs of feet stomping through the trees. It took about twenty minutes before they got to the other side of the woods and to the stadium. Amisty felt her jaw drop, a sliver of gold giving a hint of what lied within.

"Seats a hundred thousand. 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," Mr. Weasley smiled, leading them toward the closest entrance.

They checked in their tickets with a Ministry witch, "Prime seats! Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

Amisty stared down in wonder, the plush velvet stairs a rich purple and soft under her feet as they walked with the crowd that slowly but surely spread out and away from them.

Finally, they reached the top of the staircase that seemed to stretch on forever where a tiny box at the very top and halfway between the goalposts stood. Glancing around, she counted about twenty seats in total, all purple and gold.

They took their seats down in the front row, looking around. She stared down at the field, eyes wide. Everything was glowing with a faint golden sheen, the field smooth and clear, with three shining goal hoops on each end and a massive blackboard with golden writing flicking across it.

She jumped when Harry suddenly straightened and exclaimed, "Dobby?"

They all spun around, curious to see the trouble-making house elf. This houself didn't quite match Harry's description, though.

They had massive shiny brown eyes and bat-like ears.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" The elf asked in a high pitched tone.

They seemed to be a girl.

"Sorry, I just thought you were someone I knew," Harry apologized, looking faintly disappointed.

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" She replied squeakily, her face covered with her hands. "My name is Winky, sir -- and you, sir -- You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yes, I am," Harry nodded, smiling slightly.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" Winky's eyes went very wide as her hands lowered.

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

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

"Why? What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, looking downtrodden.

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir," Winky looked down as if ashamed of him.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Winky looked down even more, her voice very small and very quiet, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

Amisty blinked. What?

"Paying? Well -- why shouldn't he be paid?" Harry asked, sounding completely and utterly surprised.

"House-elves is not paid, sir! No, no no," Winky covered her face with her hands once more. "I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and the next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."