
borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor
fellow, he's got lumbago."
He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water....
"There's 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. "It's on the other side of the field."
"Well, why don't 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 we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just -"
"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation.
"When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've 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 saucepans.
Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents
that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows,
staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Harry how many witches and
wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those
in other countries.
Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with
small children; Harry had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A
tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent,
holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling
53
slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came
hurrying out of the tent.
"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's - wand - yecchh! "
She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on
the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"
A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who
were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim
the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past
Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents
having a lie-in, I suppose -"
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and
starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires
with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces,
as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious
conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a
rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat
gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that
read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. Harry caught snatches of
conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though
he couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.
"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron.
It wasn't just Ron's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all
covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly
shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under
those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.
"Harry! Ron! Hermione!"
It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in
front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to
be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.
"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."
"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see
what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting
Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily. When
they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again,
though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot." I
wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said
Hermione.
"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield,
54
where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.
The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of
them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy
black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and
scowl.
"Krum," said Ron quietly.
"What?" said Hermione.
"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums
blinking and scowling at them.
"'Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks
like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something.
He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron,
and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated
argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery
nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of
pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the
Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious -
I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear
them."
"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the
Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.
"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze
'round my privates, thanks."
Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she
had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his
water and moved away.
Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their
way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces:
other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of
Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to
his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been
signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Next they were hailed by Ernie
Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a
very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled
55
at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. More
to stop Ron from smirking than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large
group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.
"Who d'you reckon they are?" he said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"
"'Spect they go to some foreign school," said Ron. "I know there are others. Never
met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil ...
this was years and years ago ... and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum
and Dad couldn't afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't
going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."
Harry laughed but didn't voice the amazement he felt at hearing about other
wizarding schools. He supposed, now that he saw representatives of so many
nationalities in the campsite, that he had been stupid never to realize that Hogwarts
couldn't be the only one. He glanced at Hermione, who looked utterly unsurprised
by the information. No doubt she had run across the news about other wizarding
schools in some book or other.
"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire
started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.
Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack
of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as
though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in
surprise.
"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and
showing him how to do it properly.
At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot
enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however.
Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field,
and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley
cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for
Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the
Ministry to be greatly interested.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office.... Here comes
Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those
horns for a while now... Hello, Arnie ... Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator -
member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know... and that's Bode and
Croaker ... they're Unspeakables...."
56
"They're what?"
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to...."
At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages
when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley
jumped to his feet, waving and grinn