As night fell, Hoffa was awakened from meditation by a certain excitement and frenzy. Even through the tent, he could feel the tremor and frenzy of the air. That's what thousands of wizards are looking forward to,

Lift the curtain on that peacock tent.

Under the purple-red night, orange lights are everywhere.

Some foreign wizards, ** with pythons coiled around their shoulders, their wands in their hands spewed out silver bands of light, floating in the air like branches.

Whenever they play with the light tape. The onlookers applauded, and some of the rabid Quidditch fans even joined hands and danced around the impromptu wizards, shouting incomprehensible slogans.

About ten meters to the left, there is a group of fire wizards, holding small pipes that glow red, inhaling deeply with their mouths, and when they open their mouths again, they spit out flames like fire dragons.

The flames took shape in the air, from zebras to reindeer to goldfish, and they writhed in the air, and then vanished after a moment of brilliance.

However, every time it is brilliant, it brings cheers.

On the other side, a couple of vendors with carts descended from the sky, carrying trays filled with bizarre things. There are glowing rose-shaped badges — green for Ireland and red for Bulgaria — and the names of the players are screamed.

This reminded Hoffa of the light sticks and signs held by fans when they went to idol concerts in the future, although they were cheap, but there were many people, and they were very spectacular to shake.

It was night, he was in full spirit, and the idea of finding Harry came back to him, but when he looked around, he felt that he had taken it for granted. Finding one out of 100,000 wizards is undoubtedly looking for a needle in a haystack.

At this moment, in the distance, a Quidditch fan opened the beer and sprayed it everywhere, his movement as if he had toppled dominoes. Not to be outdone, the men who were splashed with the beer shook the beer one after another, spraying each other and foaming at the foam.

The people who were spilled with beer not only did not dodge, but laughed. Only the vendors who were doing business had helplessly propped up their umbrellas on their carts, looking to be prepared.

Maybe happiness can be contagious, looking at these reveling wizards, Hoffa's mood couldn't help but improve, he grinned, and the beer falling from the air turned into butterflies flying in all directions before it touched his collar.

Suddenly, hulala, a crowd surrounded him.

"What kind of spell is that, another one, little brother!"

A man who had just finished drinking and was suffocating with a sip of wine hooked up on his shoulders with the shawl of the Irish national team.

"It's Transfiguration, it looks like it's not taught well in school, and it's a spell!" scoffed.

"Haha," the drinking man laughed roughly, "Whatever kind of magic he has, it's so good-looking, let's have another one." ”

Several Beauxbatons girls also stopped to stand in the distance, looking at Hoffa, who was wrapped in butterflies, whispering to each other, covering their mouths and snickering.

Hoffa shook his head with a smile and refused the requests of passers-by, feeling that he had something to do in the evening and didn't want to attract too much attention.

But then, a couple of kids from the tent next door came out of the crowd and reached out to grab the butterflies beside him. The butterfly flew so fast that they didn't catch it, so they grabbed Hoffa's trouser legs.

"Big brother, change again. ”

"Will you turn into candy?"

Hoffa thought for a moment, bent down, and asked the little girl who was pulling his robe with a smile, "Are you really coming?"

The little girl wearing the unicorn hood nodded vigorously, the corners of Hoffa's mouth rose, he grabbed a flying colored butterfly, put the butterfly in front of the little girl and shook it, the butterfly turned into a small blowpipe in his hand, he took the blowpipe in his mouth, and suddenly, thousands of colored bubbles flew out of his mouth, and those bubbles went straight into the sky.

"I want bubbles, I want bubbles......"

The children below him jumped up and tried to catch the bubbles in the air.

Hoffa smiled, removed the blowpipe from his mouth, turned it into a transparent bubble, bent over to the little girl with the unicorn hood beside him, and winked at his playful eyes.

The little girl laughed and crushed the bubbles with her companion.

As a result, all the bubbles in the sky crackled at the same time, turning into colorful fireworks, which bloomed and competed for beauty, illuminating everyone's faces.

The crowd screamed and cheered in shock, pointing to the sky.

A few little wizards who grabbed Hoffa's robes looked at the sky stupidly, their mouths open, and their eyes flashed with longing. Then, fireworks fall from the sky and flutter into countless colorful candies.

The woman laughed, hugged her head, and screamed to avoid the candy. The children rushed to the ground and scrambled for the candy.

"It's an amazing transfiguration. ”

There was a soft sigh behind him, and Hoffa turned to see Nicol Lemay standing behind him, and said with great emotion, "Even if Merlin is alive, it's nothing more than that." ”

"Tricks, who can't do it, it's all fake. ”

Hoffa shrugged: "Didn't he deceive you?"

Before the crowd of people who had picked up the candy on the ground had time to eat, the candy had turned into the original drink and flowed out of their hands, and they sighed in unison. When they looked back to the magical wizard, he had disappeared into the crowd.

At this moment, a low, deep gong sound was heard from somewhere in the distance of the woods, and immediately, thousands of red, green, and green lanterns bloomed brightly on the trees, illuminating the road to the arena.

The crowd immediately forgot about the fake candy and shouted at each other. Like a river pouring into the sea, they all rush to the glittering Quidditch arena.

......

......

At the same time, at the edge of the swamp and wetland, the staff of the Sports Department of the Ministry of Magic, who had completed their day's work, sat in groups on the rocky floodplains of the swamp, either smoking and chatting, or lighting a bonfire and preparing food.

Basil was one of them, and when he took a few frozen sausages out of his duffel bag, countless fireworks exploded in the sky.

"I'm really convinced, even the fireworks are set off, for fear that the Muggles won't notice?"

A tin bucket of water was placed heavily around the campfire, and Basil looked up to see that the person complaining was his colleague, Vaster.

I saw him sitting by the campfire, taking off his rubber shoes, and looking at the fireworks in the distance with a dissatisfied expression.

"Before, you told us about Muggle secrecy, well, now I guess that Ludo Bagman idiot is taking the lead in setting off fireworks. ”

Basil handed him a roasted sausage and sat down in front of the campfire without raising his head, "You care about them, who cares about Muggle secrecy at this time, eat it, eat it, maybe we can catch the game after eating." ”

"I can't care, the director of the sports department is a human being, I am also a human being, he is a wizard, and I am also a wizard. ”

Vaster scooped a jug of water out of the bucket and put it on the campfire and gurgled it.

"You don't have the passion for him to explain the game...... Wait, don't just take the water from the swamp, it's not clean. ”

Basil looked at the kettle on the campfire and muttered.

"What's the difference between water? ”

After speaking, he opened the kettle without care, added some tea leaves to it, and stretched: "You go tonight, I won't go." ”

"You don't like to watch Quidditch?"

Basil looked at Vaster with the eyes of a monster.

"Love, of course love. ”

Vast rolled his eyes and took a sip of tea: "If I am full of wine and food, lie comfortably on the chair, and let the game arouse my emotions, I am naturally willing." But after a tiring day, I was still watching the game, and I was sick. I'm going to go straight to sleep in the tent after eating, and then I'll go back to watch the broadcast tomorrow. ”

Basil was stunned, feeling that what his colleague said made sense. So he looked at the other colleagues around him who were chatting and farting, "Charlie, are you going?"

"Don't go. ”

A colleague sitting on a stone smoking a cigarette shrugged, "I'm a Muggle descendant and love football." ”

"What about you, Sona?"

He asked another colleague who was tinkling to build a tent.

The colleague ignored him, and just mechanically hammered nails on the rocky floodplain to prepare a place to sleep at night.

Basil, who was bored with himself, scratched his head, feeling that his colleagues were a little weird.

A cold wind blew.

Basil shuddered and tightened his clothes, "You don't feel a little cold?"

"It's cold, it's a little bit, maybe it's getting late. ”

Vaster replied with his eyes closed.

"It's not...... I think...... It's a little too cold......"

Basil clutched his lower abdomen and frowned, "It's summer." ”

No one answered him, and he was the only one who felt cold.

The two of them ate quietly by the fire for a while, when Vaster let go of the sausage, closed his eyes and stood up, his face a little pale.

"I suddenly ..... I'd love to sleep, so go to the game by yourself after eating. He stammered.

"Eh, you're really not going!?"

Basil said.

His colleague Vaster didn't answer him, turned around mechanically, lifted the curtain of the tent on his own, and entered the tent.

Basil was a little confused, and at this moment, a low, deep gong sound was heard in the distance, and the final of the Quidditch World Cup began. He quickly swallowed the sausage in two bites, stood up, and walked in the direction of the World Cup venue.

But when he walked through the entrance with the banner pulled, he couldn't help but think of his colleagues again, this is the Quidditch World Cup final, why didn't he come to any of them.

After thinking about it, he decided to go back and persuade again.

In the darkness of the night, he returned to the foggy rocky floodplain, where his colleagues were still smoking, cooking, and pitching, but they were not talking to each other.

"Sona, are you going to see the final?"

When he came to his colleague who had set up the tent, he saw him clanging and knocking on the nails, which were obviously smashed deep in the stones, and he did not stop.

"Sona!?"

He didn't feel right and bent down to look.

The colleague closed his eyes, numbly lifted the hammer, fell, lifted the hammer, fell, and looked like he was asleep.

Hiss......!

Basil gasped, ominous and strange omens rising like blood pressure, and he drew his wand.

Looking around, I found that the colleague who was smoking had smoked the cigarette to the buttocks, and I didn't realize that the friend who was grilling the sausages by the campfire had already burned the sausages. A hazy mist drifted across their faces, and each of them closed their eyes.

"Hey...?"

He called out tentatively, but no one answered.

His Adam's apple swayed up and down, and he lifted the curtain of Vaster's tent.

I saw that my companion in a tweed suit was standing in place, nodding his head constantly.

"Vaster?"

He let out a tentative cry.

No one answered.

He walked up to his colleague and found that he also had his eyes closed and his head twitching, like a student dozing off in class.

"Vast, what's wrong with you?"

He grabbed his companion's shoulder and shook it vigorously.

At this moment, Vaste in front of him was like a deflated leather ball, and the whole person instantly fell soft, as if his colleague was not flesh and blood, but an inflatable rubber man.

The sight made Basil scream like crazy, and he couldn't stand it anymore and rushed out of the tent.

As soon as he got out of the tent, he was petrified in place.

Outside the tent, in the mist of the swamp, there stood a large number of men in black military uniforms, each wearing a strange birdcage on their heads and holding torches in their hands, standing silently in the swamp at night, like sculptures.

Bone-chilling cold wind blew out from behind the bird-headed men and blew on the people, and the bodies that looked like sleepwalking colleagues, like fragments, fell off the skeleton and turned into clouds of rolling dust before they hit the ground.

"Ah, he-he-he-they're off!"

In the distance, on the Quidditch pitch, the screams of host Ludo Bagman were clearly visible, "This is Marlet, Troy, Moran, Dimitrov, and Marlet, Troy, Lefski, Moran!"

On the edge of the gloomy swampy wetland, a few soldiers with torches and birdcages stood up silently, lowered their torches, and lit the tents on the edge of the swamp.

Suddenly, the flames rose into the sky.

Basil turned his head and didn't say a word, and ran away.