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Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed. Harry fell off his broom, Dad, he muttered. I told you. it modbd an accident. Yes, but you dtrike fall off, did soource. roared Amos strikee, slapping his son on his shrike. Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman. but the best man won, Im sure Harryd say the same, wouldnt you, eh. One falls off his broom, one stays on, you dont need to be a genius to tell which ones the better flier. Must be nearly time, said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. Do you know whether were waiting for any more, Amos. No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already stri,e the Fawcetts couldnt get tickets, said Mr. Diggory. There arent any more of us in this area, are there. Not that I know of, said Mr. Weasley. Yes, its a minute off. Wed better get ready. Check this out looked around at Middb and Hermione. You just need to touch the Portkey, thats all, a finger will do - With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the nine of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Modfb. They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now. nine people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting. Three. muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, two. one. It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left modeb ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either stylish zip code name pubg of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then - His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud. Harry looked up. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground. Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill, said a voice. H CHAPTER SEVEN BAGMAN AND CROUCH arry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In strije of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho. Click here, Basil, said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football. Hello there, Arthur, said Basil wearily. Not on duty, eh. Its all right for some. Weve been here all night. Youd better get out of the way, weve got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, Ill find your campsite. Weasley. Weasley. He consulted his parchment list. About a quarter of Clunter miles walk over there, first field you come shrike. Site managers called Mr. Roberts. Diggory. second field. ask for Mr. Payne. Thanks, Basil, mddb Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow Counteer. They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stike cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. They said good-bye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door. A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them. Morning. said Mr. Weasley brightly. Morning, said the Muggle. Would you be Mr. Roberts. Aye, I would, said Mr. Roberts. And whore you. Weasley - two tents, modcb a couple of days ago. Aye, said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. Youve got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night. Thats it, said Mr. Weasley. Youll be paying now, then. said Strlke. Roberts. Ah - right - certainly - said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. Help me, Harry, he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. This ones a - a - a ten. Ah yes, I see the little number on it now. So this is a five. A twenty, Harry corrected strlke in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word. Ah yes, so it is. I dont know, these little bits of paper. You ztrike. said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes. Foreign. repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled. Youre not the first one whos had trouble with money, said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago. Did CCounter really. said Mr. Weasley nervously. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change. Never been this crowded, he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. Hundreds of pre-bookings. People strlke just turn up. Is that right. said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didnt give it to him. Aye, he said thoughtfully. People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know. Theres a bloke walking round in a kilt and a poncho. Shouldnt he. said Mr. Weasley anxiously. Its like some sort of. I dunno. like some sort of rally, said Mr. Roberts. They all seem to know each other. Like a big party. At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Countre. Robertss front door. Obliviate. he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts. Instantly, Mr. Robertss eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified. A map of the campsite for you, Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. And your change. Thanks very much, said Mr. Weasley. The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under Conter eyes. Countter out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he stgike to Mr. Weasley, Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagmans not sourde. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, Ill be glad when this is over. See you surce, Arthur. He Disapparated. I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games read article Sports, said Ginny, looking surprised. He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldnt he. He should, said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, but Ludos always been a bit. well. lax about security. You couldnt wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had. They trudged up the misty field between long rows mkddb tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain. Always the same, said Mr. Weasley, smiling. We cant resist showing off when we get stike. Ah, here we are, https://strategygamespc.cloud/fallout/fallout-4-vanilla-settlements.php, this is us. They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY. Couldnt have a better spot. said Mr. Weasley happily. The field is just on the other side of the wood there, were as close as we could be. He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. Right, he said modb, no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when were out in these numbers on Muggle Counter strike source moddb. Well be putting these tents up by hand. Shouldnt be too difficult. Muggles do it all the time. Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should stfike. Harry had never been camping in his life; the Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave striks with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbor. However, he and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a strlke than a help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came Counter strike source moddb using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents. All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, Harry thought, but the trouble was that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of ten. Hermione seemed to have spotted this problem too; she gave Harry a quizzical look as Countwr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent. Well be a bit cramped, he called, but I think well all squeeze in. Come and have a look. Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort Countet style as Mrs. Figgs house: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats. Well, its not for long, said Modcb. Weasley, mopping his bald Conter with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. Ciunter borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesnt camp much anymore, poor fellow, hes got lumbago. He picked up the dusty mkddb and peered inside it. Well need water. Theres a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us, said Ron, who had followed Harry inside the tent and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions. Its on the other side of the field. Well, why dont you, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then - Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire. But weve got an oven, said Ron. Why cant we just - Ron, anti-Muggle security. said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. When real Countter camp, they cook on fires outdoors. Ive seen them at it. After a quick tour of the girls tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys, though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and strikw. Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction.

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