The place we came to resembled a vast expanse of desolate, misty swamps. In front of them, stood two weary and gloomy sorcerers, one of whom held a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill.

"Good morning, Basil." Weasley said, picking up the boot and handing it to one of the wizards. The man tossed it into a large box beside him, full of used portkeys, and Harry saw an old newspaper, an empty can, and a soccer ball riddled with holes.

"Hello, Arthur," Basil said wearily, "there are some people who are so lucky that we stay here all night. You'd better get out of the way, for a great crowd is coming from the Black Forest at a quarter past five. Wait a minute, I'll find out where your camp is. Weasley, Weasley," he searched through the parchment list, quickly finding Mr. Weasley's name, "about a quarter of a mile away, the first camp in front of us was, and the groundskeeper was Mr. Roberts. Diggory, you're at the second camp, looking for Mr. Payne. ”

"Thank you, Basil." Mr. Weasley said, beckoning everyone to follow him.

They walked through the deserted swamp, barely visible in the thick fog. After walking for about twenty minutes, a door appeared in front of me, and then a small stone house. Behind the stone houses were thousands of oddly shaped tents, which went up the gentle slope of the large field that jutted out into a dark forest on the horizon. They said goodbye to Diggory and his son, and walked towards the door of the stone house.

There was a man standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents, he was the only real Muggle in the vast area. When the man heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Good morning!" Mr. Weasley said energetically.

"Good morning!" Muggles said.

"Are you Mr. Roberts?"

"Ah, exactly." Mr. Roberts said, "Who are you?" ”

"Weasley, two tents, booked two days ago, are they?"

"Yes, you have a place there by the woods. Stay only one night? ”

"Yes." Mr. Weasley said.

"So, pay now, is it okay?" Mr. Roberts said.

"Ah, okay, no problem." Mr. Weasley said. He took a few steps back, leaving the small stone house, and motioned for Harry to come to him.

"Help me, Harry." He whispered, pulling a roll of Muggle money out of his pocket and separating them one by one. "This one is, um, ten pounds? Ah, by the way, I saw the little number printed on it, so this one is five pounds? ”

"It's twenty pounds." Harry lowered his voice to correct him, uneasy at realizing that Mr. Roberts was struggling to hear every word they spoke.

"Ah, I see...

"You're a foreigner?" Mr. Weasley asked when he finally got the money right.

"Foreigners?" Mr. Weasley repeated in confusion.

"You're not the only one who can't figure out the money," said Mr. Roberts, looking at Mr. Weasley carefully, "and just ten minutes ago, two men were going to pay me a gold coin the size of a hub." ”

"Really?" Mr. Weasley said uneasily.

Mr. Roberts fumbled for change in a tin can.

"There have never been so many people," he said suddenly, his eyes glancing once again at the foggy camp, "and hundreds of people have booked tents. People keep coming ... ”

"Is there something wrong?" Mr. Weasley asked, reaching for change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Yes," said Mr. Roberts, thoughtfully, "there are people from everywhere. Countless foreigners. It's not just foreigners, but a lot of weirdos, you know? There was a guy walking around in a pleated skirt and a South American cape. ”

"Can't you?" Mr. Weasley asked eagerly.

"It's like, I don't know how to describe it, it's like a trick." "They seemed to know each other, it was like a big party." ”

Just then, a wizard in bloomers suddenly descended from the sky and landed at the door of Mr. Roberts' stone house.

"Forget it!" He pointed his wand at Mr. Roberts and snapped.

Suddenly, Mr. Roberts's eyes were gone, his brow was loosened, and his face showed a look of trance and indifference to everything.

"I'll give you a floor plan of the camp." Mr. Roberts calmly said to Mr. Weasley, "And the change I found for you." ”

"Thank you very much." Mr. Weasley said.

A wizard in bloomers accompanied them towards the camp gates. He looked very tired, his chin was unshaven, his iron was blue, and there were blue-purple shadows under his eyes.

When Mr. Roberts could not hear them, the wizard whispered to Mr. Weasley, "He has caused me a lot of trouble, and I have to recite the Oblivion Charm to him a dozen times a day to keep him in a good mood." Ludo Bagman will only do the opposite. Walking around, talking loudly about Bludgers and Quaffles, completely ignoring Muggle beware and staying safe. God, I wish this was over sooner. See you later, Arthur. ”

He finished and vanished.

"I thought Mr. Bagman was the Director of Magical Sports," said Ginny, who seemed a little surprised, "he should have known that you can't talk about Bludgers around Muggles, right?" ”

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley with a smile, leading them through the gate and into the camp, "Ludo has always been a little sloppy about security, well. But you can't find a more passionate person to lead the Sports Division. You know, he used to play Quidditch for England. He is the best hitter of all time for the Wimbourne Hornets. ”

They laboriously walked over the misty camp, passing between two long rows of tents. Most of the tents didn't look special, and it was clear that their owners had gone to great lengths to make them look like Muggle tents, but some had accidentally overdone it and added chimneys, bellstrings, or weather vanes to make it undescript. Occasionally, though, there are a few tents that you can tell at first glance that they are magical.

In the center of the camp, there is a tent that stands out in particular. It was so extravagant that it resembled a small palace, with a few live peacocks tied to it at the entrance.

Maple glanced around, wondering if the tent belonged to Malfoy's, and old Malfoy loved to engage in such flashy things.

A little further ahead, they saw a tent in the shape of a four-story building, with several corner towers beside it. On the other side, there is a garden in front of the door of a tent, with a bird's bath, sundials, fountains, and so on.

"Always," said Mr. Weasley with a smile, "when you get together, you can't help but want to show off." Ah, here it is, look, this is ours. ”

They came to the edge of the woods at the end of the camp, where there was a clearing with a small sign on the ground that read: Weedley.

"This place couldn't be better!" Mr. Weasley said happily, "The field is on the other side of the forest, and it couldn't be closer." ”

He pulled his backpack off his shoulders. "Alright," he said excitedly, "strictly speaking, no magic, since so many of us have come to Muggle territory. We're going to put up our tents with our own hands! It shouldn't be too hard, Muggles are like that. By the way, Harry, where do you think we should start? ”

Harry, who had never pitched a tent before, turned his gaze to Maple and Hermione, but neither had pitched a tent either.

However, they quickly figured out how to pitch the tent, and Mr. Weasley was always a helper, for he was thrilled to use a sledgehammer whenever he was needed, but he kept trying. So much so that in the end, the tent they erected was crooked.

They all took a few steps back, appreciating the fruits of their own hands. But now there was a problem, how the eleven of them could fit into these two small tents.

"It might be a little cramped," Mr. Weasley said, "but I think everybody can squeeze in." Check it out. ”

When they got into the tent, they found that there was a hole in it—

In a small tent there is an old-fashioned three-bedroom apartment, as well as a bathroom and kitchen.

The place to live is solved, and they should prepare something to eat when they are a little hungry now. They would go out to the tap to get some water and make their own fire to cook and eat.

Ron was a little upset when he heard that Mr. Weasley wanted them to make firewood like Muggles, "We have a stove, why can't-"

"Ron, don't forget to guard against Muggle safety regulations!" Mr. Weasley was righteous, but in fact he was just trying to get a taste of Muggle fire.

Maple, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set out from their camp to fetch water with a kettle and a saucepot.

At this time, the sun had just risen, the mist had gradually lifted, and they saw tents on all sides, and they could not see the end. They slowly walked through the tents, looking around with interest.

The campers on the grounds are gradually waking up. The first to wake up are those with small children. I saw a little boy about two years old squatting outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a magic wand in his hand, happily stabbing a slug on the grass, and the slug slowly swelled to the size of a sausage. When they walked up to him, the boy's mother hurried out of the tent.

"How many times have I told you, Kevin? You are not allowed—to touch again—your father's—wand, ouch! ”

She stomped on the giant slug, and the slug exploded with a snap. They had gone far enough to hear her shouting in the silent air, mixed with the little boy's cry: "You have trampled the worms!" You've trampled the bugs up! ”

After walking some way, they saw two little witches, about the same age as Kevin, riding on two toy broomsticks, flying low, their feet gently skimming the dew-stained grass. A wizard working in the ministry had already seen them, and he hurried past Maple and them, muttering in dismay, "It's in broad daylight!" My parents probably slept in—"

Every now and then, adult wizards can be seen emerging from their tents and starting to make breakfast. Some looked around sneakily and lit the fire with their wands; Some were striking matches, with skeptical expressions on their faces, as if they thought it would definitely not work. Three African male wizards sat there talking solemnly, all dressed in long white robes, roasting something like a hare on a purple fire. Another group of middle-aged American male wizards sat chatting and laughing, and a gleaming banner hung high between their tents: Salem Wizarding Academy.

"Heh, is there something wrong with my eyes, why is everything green?" Ron said.

Ron's eyes were fine. The place they had just entered, all the tents were covered with a thick layer of clover, and it looked like countless strange green hills had emerged from the ground. In the tent with the curtain lifted, smiling faces could be seen. At that moment, they heard their names being called behind them.

"Harry! Maple! Ron! Hermione! ”

It's the dangerous explosive madman Seamo Finigan, a student in their year at Gryffindor House. He sat in front of his thamrock-covered tent with a yellow-haired woman next to him, which must have been his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, who was also a student at Gryffindor House.

"Like the decorations?" Seamus grinned and asked, "The ministry isn't too happy." ”

"Ahem, why can't we show off our colors?" Mrs. Phinegan said, "You should go and see, the Bulgarians have hung their tents full." Of course you're rooting for the Irish team, aren't you? She asked, eyes sparkling at Maple, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

They assured her that they did support the Irish team, and they got out of there without any problems, and then they set off again. Ron muttered, "In that atmosphere, can we say anything else?" ”

"I really want to know what the Bulgarians are hanging on their tents?" Hermione said.

"Then let's go and have a look," Maple said with a smile, and together they walked to the large tent in front of them, where the Bulgarian flags—white, green, and red—fluttered in the breeze.

The tents here are not covered with any vegetation, but each tent has the same poster with a very gloomy face and thick black eyebrows. Of course, the picture is moving, but the face is frowning except for the blink.

"Krum." Ron whispered.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Krum!" Ron said, "Victor Krum, Bulgaria's Seeker!" ”

"He's so gloomy." Hermione said, winking and frowning at the countless krums around her.

"'It's too gloomy'?" Ron rolled his eyes up, "Who cares about his appearance?" He's amazing! And he is very young, only about eighteen years old. He's a genius, you'll see tonight. ”

At the tap in the corner of the camp, a small queue had already formed. They walked over and lined up in order.

The two men standing in front of them were arguing fiercely about something. One of them was very old, wearing a long printed pajamas, and the other was obviously a wizard working in the ministry, holding a pair of pinstriped pants in his hand, and he was almost crying with anger.

"You can do it, put it on, Archie. You can't walk around in clothes like this, that Muggle at the gate is already starting to suspect—"

"I bought these pants in a Muggle store," the old wizard said stubbornly, "and Muggles wear them." ”

"Muggle women only wear it, Archie, men don't wear it, men wear this." The wizard who worked in the ministry said, waving the pinstriped pants.

"I don't wear it," said old Archie angrily, "I'm willing to let a wholesome breeze blow my ass, thank you." ”

Hermione wanted to giggle when she heard this. She couldn't take it anymore, and stooped away from the group, waiting for Archie to leave with plenty of water before returning.

They walked through the camp and returned, walking much slower because they were carrying water. Outside of their visit, they could always see familiar faces—Hogwarts classmates and their families. Oliver Wood is the former captain of their Gryffindor House Quidditch team and has just graduated from Hogwarts. He pulled Harry into his parents' tent, introduced them, and excitedly told Harry that he had just signed on as a substitute for Pudemere United.

Then, Hufflepuff's fourth-year classmate Ernie McMillan greeted them. After walking a few more steps, they saw Akihari, a very beautiful girl who was working as a Seeker on the Ravenclaw House team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who waved at her and splashed a lot of water on his front in a panic.

In order not to make Ron laugh at him, Harry quickly pointed to a large group of teenagers he had never seen before, "Who do you say they are?" They didn't go to Hogwarts, did they? ”

However, Harry didn't expect his embarrassment to be seen by Maple, and he leaned into Hermione's ear and whispered, "Harry seems to have a crush on Ravenclaw's Autumn Zhang." ”

"But, Ginny," Hermione seemed to prefer her good Ginny and Harry to pair.

"I guess they went to a foreign school." Ron said to Harry, neither of them noticing Maple and Hermione's movements, "I know there's no other school. I don't know anyone from those schools though. Bill used to have a pen pal and attended a school in Brazil. That was many, many years ago, and he wanted to go on an exchange trip, but his parents couldn't afford to pay that much. Bill said he couldn't go, and the pen pal got angry and sent him a hat with a spell that wrinkled both of his ears. ”

Harry laughed, but he didn't say how surprised he was when he learned that there were other schools of magic. He now saw that there were so many ethnic wizard representatives in the camp, and he thought to himself that he had been so stupid that he had never realized that Hogwarts was not the only school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Harry turned his gaze to Hermione, who was still biting her ear with Maple and whispering something, and Harry immediately looked away.

"Why have you been around for so long?" When they finally returned to the Weasley tent, George grumbled.

"I ran into a few acquaintances." Ron said, putting the water down, "Haven't you made a fire yet?" ”

"Daddy's playing with matches." Fred said.

Mr. Weasley's fire didn't make any difference, not because he lacked trying. There were many matches scattered on the ground around him, and he didn't seem to be in a hurry at all.

"Ugh!" He finally struck a match, screamed, and quickly threw it away. Mr. Weasley was playing like a child getting a new toy.

"That's right, Mr. Weasley." Hermione said gently, taking the matchbox from his hand and showing him what to do.

They finally lit the fire, but it was at least another hour before the fire was up and they were ready to cook. But they weren't bored while they waited, and there was a lot to see.

Their tent appeared to be on the side of a large road leading to the arena, and the officials of the Department ran back and forth along the road, greeting Mr. Weasley warmly every time they passed. Mr. Weasley kept making introductions, mostly for Maple Harry and Hermione, whose own children were too familiar with the people in the ministry to be of interest to them.

"That's Cuthbert? Mokridge, is the head of the Elven Liaison Office"

"This is Gilbert Wimple, he works on the Experimental Spell Committee, and those horns on his head have been growing for a while"

"Hello, Ani"

"Arnold Pisgood, a member of the Amnestic Write-off Crew - Reversal of Contingencies"

"That's Bode and Crocker, and their work is not to be commented on..."

"What do they do?"

"It's from the Department of Mysteries, top secret, I don't know what they're doing...

Finally, when the fire was blazing, and as soon as they were frying eggs and boiling sausages, Bill, Charlie, and Percy strode towards them from the woods.

Book Reading House