Sirius Black was the first to duck inside, while Harry, after glancing at the pyramid-shaped tent—barely eight feet long and wide—raised an eyebrow. Just as he was about to follow Sirius in, Hermione, standing beside him, suddenly grabbed his arm. Harry turned to her, puzzled, only to find her glaring back at him.
"Harry," Hermione said, fixing him with a steady gaze, "counting Percy and the others who haven't arrived yet, there are eleven of us. And among them, two girls."
"Yeah, so what?" Harry asked, still confused, looking at Hermione.
"Maybe I wasn't clear enough," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. Then, in a tone one might use to explain to a six-year-old why boys and girls shouldn't sleep in the same bed, she enunciated each word carefully: "Eleven people. Two girls. Nine boys. All sleeping together in a tent that's only eight feet by eight feet. Doesn't that seem a bit… cramped?"
"Oh…" Harry nodded, realization dawning on him. "So that's what you've been worried about all this time. Don't worry, the moment Sirius stepped inside, I felt some kind of spatial shift. This tent's definitely been enchanted with some sort of space magic. And besides…"
He pointed over Hermione's shoulder. "Didn't Ron and Ginny just go in with their backpacks too?"
Hermione turned around and, sure enough, saw Ginny, the last in line, lifting the tent flap and slipping inside.
With that, Hermione lifted the flap herself and peeked into the tent. Her jaw dropped in astonishment.
The tent's ceiling was a classic pointed structure, adorned with decorative beams and a chandelier. The living area boasted three spacious fabric sofas, while a wooden door to the left led to the girls' bedroom and another to the right opened into the boys'. Straight ahead, the kitchen area featured dark cabinets with crimson-gold handles and modern appliances (though how they'd solved the electricity issue remained a mystery). Next to the kitchen stood an oak dining table with red high-backed chairs. Sunlight streamed brightly through large windows around the room, illuminating every corner. In a few spots, green potted plants glistened with dewdrops.
Sprawled on one of the sofas, Sirius caught the look of shock on Hermione's face and smirked, raising an eyebrow at Harry, who'd followed her in. "Well, Hermione, what do you think? This tent I picked up isn't half bad, is it?"
"It couldn't be better," Hermione replied, tossing her backpack onto a table by the door before darting off to join Ginny, who was already wandering around. The two of them squealed and exclaimed as they explored the tent together.
After the initial excitement, Ginny, Fred, and George went off to catch up on sleep. Ron, drawn by the commotion outside, wandered out, leaving the cooking duties to the only two who knew how to operate the Muggle appliances: Harry and Hermione.
Under Mr. Weasley's curious gaze and Sirius's amused smile, Hermione—who already had some experience with cooking—took the lead. Harry, on the other hand… well, his culinary skills were limited to frying an egg or a steak—edible, non-toxic, but not exactly appetizing. Otherwise, he and his companions wouldn't have been so thrilled back at camp when they gained an extra cook.
Before that little girl named Jaheira and her cat joined them, Harry and the others had survived for quite a while on Halsin's Goodberry spell and Shadowheart's Create Food spell (yes, those tough days in the Underdark). Whether it was Goodberry or Create Food, the conjured sustenance was highly practical but tasted about as exciting as eating mud—bland, flavorless, but filling.
By the stove, Hermione stirred a pot of meat stew with a wooden spoon, still a tad unpracticed. Nearby, seven or eight pieces of roast lamb (dug out of the fridge) sizzled on the grill, dripping oil. Harry, following Hermione's instructions, handed her salt, pepper, rosemary, or whatever seasoning she asked for.
Finally, after their flurry of effort, the dining table was no longer bare. A pot of stew, a hefty platter of roast meat, a big bowl of vegetable salad, and a pile of bread filled it to the brim.
Not long after Mr. Weasley set down a tray of toasted bread slices, Ron burst through the tent flap, clutching a rolled-up poster he'd gotten from who-knows-where. Right behind him came Bill, Charlie, and Percy, who'd just arrived.
"Just Apparated in," Percy said, setting down his bag. He shook Sirius's hand with a formal air before striding over to the table, inhaling deeply. "Ah, brilliant—food! Dad, I didn't know you could cook!"
"When are we eating? I'm starving," Ron declared, claiming a spot at the table and reaching for the roast meat. "No one minds if I take one, right? Mmm… a bit salty…"
"I didn't make this," Mr. Weasley said, hauling Ron out of the chair by his collar. "Go wash your hands before you eat! You should be thanking Harry and Hermione."
"Right, find a seat wherever you like. I'll go wake Ginny and the others," Mr. Weasley said. He headed to the girls' room, called through the door to rouse Ginny, then moved to the boys' room, soon dragging the Weasley twins out.
After dinner, Hermione and Harry loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and set it running. Mr. Weasley crouched beside it, peering through the glass in fascination as the water swirled around the plates and cutlery inside the strange machine.
In the living room, Ron was showing off a new Viktor Krum poster he'd gotten from Seamus to Fred and the others. Charlie and Bill were gearing up to head out for a bit when a man's voice called from outside the tent.
"Mr. Black? It's Ludo—Ludo Bagman. Mind if I pop in for a moment?"
"Come on in, Ludo," Sirius called back.
With that, a chubby middle-aged man in a tight-fitting Quidditch robe waddled through the flap.
"Ha! Arthur, you're here too!" The blue-eyed, blond man with a squashed nose hopped in, practically bouncing as if he had springs in his shoes.
"Everything's gone so smoothly today!" Ludo Bagman said, slightly out of breath but beaming. "The venue's sorted, the weather's perfect, and the preparations are all in order—no hiccups! I've got nothing left to do…"
Outside the tent, two figures darted past in a hurry. In the distance, Harry heard startled shouts and caught the faint smell of something burning drifting in.
Spotting Ludo Bagman, the Ministry official, Percy hurried forward, extending a hand with a warm smile. "Hello, Mr. Bagman. I'm Percy—been helping Mr. Crouch with some minor paperwork lately," he introduced himself eagerly.
"Ha, hello there!" Ludo grinned, shaking Percy's hand. His gaze then swept over the room. "Arthur, care to do the introductions?"
"Oh, of course, of course," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "My son Percy—just started at the Ministry, as you've met. Then this is Fred—no, wait, George, sorry—that's Fred over there. And this is Bill, this is Charlie, this is Ron, and my daughter, Ginny. Then these are Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
At the mention of Harry's name, Ludo's eyes widened slightly, his gaze flicking almost instinctively to the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
"This is Ludo Bagman," Mr. Weasley said to the group. "Thanks to him, we managed to snag such great tickets…"
Ludo waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't flatter me, Arthur. I didn't do much in the grand scheme of things… So, what do you say, Black, Arthur? Fancy a little wager before the match?"
Ludo Bagman jiggled a coin pouch that clinked with the promise of Galleons. "I've already convinced Roddy Pontner to bet with me—he's saying Bulgaria will score first. I gave him steep odds because Ireland's third Chaser is the best I've seen in years. And little Agatha Timms has wagered half her eel farm that the match will last a week."
"Oh… alright," Mr. Weasley said, mulling it over. "Let me think… I'll bet one Galleon on Ireland winning. How's that?"
"One Galleon?" Ludo looked a touch disappointed but quickly perked up. "Fine, fine. And you, Black?"
"Five hundred Galleons on Ireland," Sirius said casually, unfazed.
"Fantastic, fantastic!" Ludo's excitement spiked at Sirius's hefty wager. He turned to the others. "Anyone else want in?"
"They're too young for gambling," Mr. Weasley interjected. "Molly wouldn't—"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts," Fred interrupted, as he and George hastily pooled their money. "Ireland wins, but Viktor Krum catches the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand too."
"You're not seriously showing that junk to Mr. Bagman, are you?" Percy hissed under his breath. "This isn't home—mind your manners!"
But Ludo didn't seem to think Fred's fake wand was junk at all. He took the wand—identical to a real one—from Fred's hand, and with a loud croak, it turned into a rubber duck in his grasp.
Ludo Bagman burst into hearty laughter, his boyish face alight with delight at the prank item he'd never seen before.
"Brilliant!" Ludo exclaimed, squeezing the rubber duck gleefully. "I haven't seen magic this fun in years! I'll give you five Galleons for that fake wand!"
Percy froze, stunned that someone was actually willing to pay five Galleons for Fred and George's rubbish.
"Boys," Mr. Weasley said in a low voice, still trying to dissuade them, "I don't want you gambling… that's all your savings… your mother…"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" Ludo boomed, the Galleons in his bag jingling with his animated gestures. "They're old enough to know what they want! But… Ireland winning with Krum catching the Snitch? No chance, lads, no chance… I'll give you steep odds… plus the five Galleons for that hilarious wand, so that's forty-two Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts total…"
Ludo whipped out a notebook and quill, scribbling down the twins' names and wager before handing the slip to Fred and George.
After confirming no one else wanted in, Ludo Bagman bounced out of the tent.
With plenty of time left before the Quidditch World Cup that evening, the group decided to split into smaller teams and explore. Unfortunately for Harry and Ron, they ended up as free labor and tagalongs for the two girls.
Harry, who'd never gone shopping with girls before, had no idea what he was in for. In a place brimming with fascinating, quirky goods—and with one of the girls carrying plenty of spare cash—even having a fellow unlucky soul like Ron didn't lighten the load. It wasn't something a mere fifth-year could handle.
Before long, Harry and Ron were draped in packages—bags hanging from their hands, arms, even necks. And when it became clear the two ladies had no intention of stopping, Ron cracked first. After a heated argument with Hermione and Ginny, he dumped his load and stormed off into the crowd—though this meant he got skipped when the girls later divvied up gifts, much to his chagrin.
Wearing a dancing shamrock hat and a green rose-shaped badge, and clutching a Viktor Krum figurine, Ron felt the injustice keenly—especially when he saw Harry gleefully accept an Omniocular from Hermione and a Firebolt model from Ginny.
Harry doesn't even like Quidditch that much! Ron thought bitterly, eyeing the Omniocular and Firebolt model. Those should've been mine!
Then, to Ron's astonishment, Harry handed him the Firebolt model.
"Here, take it. I've already got a real Firebolt," Harry said with a grin.
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