August 23rd, Monday.
Today was the day of the Quidditch World Cup.
Early morning, atop Stoatshead Hill, a mountain near the Weasley home.
The wind was strong, and Harry and Hermione couldn't help but wrap their robes tighter around themselves.
"Only six o'clock in the morning..." Harry observed, his voice slightly hoarse from the early hour as he watched Adrian adjust his cuffs.
His furrowed with confusion as he raised his voice to be heard over the whistling wind. "Professor, if we're going to watch the Quidditch World Cup, why don't we simply Apparate there directly? Wouldn't that be much more convenient than standing on this freezing hilltop?"
Adrian paused in his grooming ritual, his fingers stilling on the silver cufflinks that caught the dim morning light. A wry smile appeared across his lips as he looked up at Harry.
"Ah, believe me, Harry, I would much prefer the direct approach myself," He replied, his voice carrying a tone of mild exasperation.
Now it seemed that was indeed the case.
Exactly three minutes later, as promised, all three travelers simultaneously reached out to make contact with the red beverage can.
The world around them immediately dissolved into a nauseating complex pattern of spinning colors and sensations.
Harry felt as though he had been caught in the grip of an invisible giant's hand and was being rotated around at impossible speeds. His stomach lurched violently, his inner ear struggled to maintain any sense of balance, and for several terrifying seconds he couldn't tell which direction was up or down.
The sensation was like being trapped inside a washing machine filled with rainbow-colored lightning.
Then, with shaking suddenness, the spinning stopped.
When Harry's feet made contact with solid ground once again, his legs gave him up. He staggered forward like a sailor on his first day back on dry land after months at sea, his sense of balance was completely scrambled by the magical transportation.
He narrowly avoided colliding with Hermione, who appeared to be experiencing similar difficulties with her balance.
"Six-oh-five departure from Stoatshead Hill," announced a weary, distinctly unenthusiastic voice that seemed to emerge from the thick blanket of morning mist that surrounded them.
A wizard wearing the rumpled, ill-fitting uniform of a Ministry employee looked up from his clipboard with the expression of someone who had been working far too many consecutive hours without adequate rest.
The dark circles under his eyes were so obvious and deeply etched that he looked as though he had been on the losing end of a boxing match with a particularly aggressive opponent.
The official squinted at them through the mist, his tired brain clearly struggling to process the information on his list.
"Oh, it's you... er... Mr. Adrian Westeros, I presume?" He said after a moment of obvious mental effort, his voice carrying the tone of someone trying to recall a half-remembered name from a very long list.
Adrian's expression immediately brightened with surprise as he recognized the man in front of him.
"Brandt?" He exclaimed, taking a step closer to get a better look at the familiar face that was now visible through the dissipating mist.
"Good heavens, what are you doing here? The last time I saw you, you were working as a receptionist at the Foreign Visitors' Reception Office in New York. How did you end up assigned to Portkey duty in the middle of the British countryside?"
Indeed, the dejected-looking official was none other than Brandt, a Ministry employee who had become something of an acquaintance to Adrian.
As someone who frequently traveled to New York, Adrian had been required to register with the Foreign Visitors' Office on numerous occasions, and Brandt had always handled his paperwork with professional efficiency, if not enthusiasm.
Brandt's face immediately took on an expression of deep resentment and bitter resignation.
"The Quidditch World Cup organizing committee were critically short-staffed at the last minute," He explained with frustration, gesturing helplessly at his surroundings.
"They put out an urgent call for volunteers from Ministry offices around the world to help with various logistical duties. This absolutely thankless assignment was originally supposed to go to my colleague, Patterson—we agreed to settle the matter with a simple coin toss to keep things fair."
Brandt's expression grew even more bitter as he continued his tale of sadness. "That cursed coin landed heads-up seven times in a row. Seven! The statistical probability of such an occurrence is so astronomically small that I'm convinced someone was using magic to influence the outcome.
But could I prove it? Of course not. So here I am, standing in a swamp at dawn, checking names off a list and wondering what I did to anger the gods of chance."
"My sincere condolences," Adrian replied with genuine sympathy, though he couldn't quite suppress a small smile at his acquaintance's characteristic run of bad luck. "You really do seem to have a remarkable talent for losing vacation time to games of chance. Perhaps you should consider avoiding coin tosses in the future?"
While Adrian and Brandt continued their unexpected reunion, Harry and Hermione took the opportunity to explore their immediate surroundings and get their composure in this strange new location.
They found themselves standing in what could generously be described as a marshy wetland, though "gloomy swamp" might have been a more accurate description.
The ground beneath their feet was soft and sopping, making slight squelching sounds with each step. Patches of stagnant water reflected the gray morning sky, and the air was heavy with the earthy smell of decomposing vegetation and moisture.
Apart from the obvious footprints and trampled vegetation that marked the passage of previous Portkey arrivals, there was almost no evidence of human civilization in this remote location.
It was exactly the sort of place that the Ministry would choose for a secret magical gathering, completely isolated from curious Muggle eyes and far from any major population hubs.
Not far from their landing point, a wooden sign had been driven into the soggy ground at a distinctly crooked angle, as though whoever had installed it had been in a considerable hurry.
"QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP CAMPSITE →"
The crudely carved arrow pointed directly into the thick wall of morning fog that obscured the landscape out there.
After exchanging farewells and best wishes with the unfortunate Brandt who returned to his clipboard with the resigned air of a man serving a prison sentence, the three travelers began their journey through the swampland.
Ten long, soggy minutes later, during which they had encountered nothing but more trees, more mud, and an increasingly complex network of uncertain pathways, they finally emerged from the oppressive wilderness to discover clear evidence of human habitation.
The sight that they saw was genuinely breathtaking.
Spread out in front of them like a vast temporary city was the Quidditch World Cup campsite, an enormous field that had been transformed into a magical community for the duration of the tournament.
Hundreds upon hundreds of tents were arranged in neat rows that stretched as far as the eye could see with colorful canvas gently swaying in the wind, like a large mushroom forest.
In front of these tents was a stone house, with a man standing there, looking around in confusion.
Adrian immediately recognized him as a Muggle, probably the original staff member of this campsite.
However, he seemed to have been subjected to too many Memory Charms, not even noticing Adrian's approach.
After leaving some bills as a tip for the poor man, Adrian led Harry and Hermione into the campsite.
There were already quite a few wizards moving about in the campsite, and several children were playing on toy broomsticks in mid-air.
"Hey there, be more careful!" Adrian called out sharply as one particularly adventurous young troublemaker on a bright yellow toy broom swooped dangerously close to his head.
The small pilot, a boy of perhaps eight or nine years old with a mischievous grin and wild, uncombed hair responded to Adrian's admonishment by waving cheerfully and sticking out his tongue.
However, he wouldn't be laughing much longer, because his parents were already chasing after him angrily with a long-handled broom. Perhaps soon he would have a complete childhood...
Adrian couldn't bear to watch this heartwarming scene and continued deeper into the campsite with the other two.
As they walked further into the temporary magical city, Hermione's natural curiosity got the better of her. She turned in slow circles as she walked, trying to take in every detail of this extraordinary scene while simultaneously attempting to avoid tripping over tent ropes and other obstacles.
"Professor Westeros," She asked, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the noise of campsite activity, "where exactly are we heading? Do you have a specific destination in mind, or are we simply exploring?"
Adrian patted the traveling case he carried in his right hand with obvious satisfaction.
"We're searching for a suitable empty space where I can establish our temporary accommodations," He explained with a slight smile. "I took brought a tent for our use during the World Cup festivities."
The better locations within the vast campsite had already been claimed by earlier arrivals. However, fortune smiled upon them as they made their way through the maze of temporary structures.
Near what appeared to be one of the better sections of the campsite, they encountered a familiar group of redheaded figures.
"Adrian! Harry! Hermione!" Mr. Weasley's voice boomed across the campsite as he spotted their approach. "How wonderful to see you! Please, feel free to pitch your tent right next to ours, there's certainly plenty of space available, and the location offers excellent access to all the facilities."
Mr. Weasley gestured at the considerable empty area surrounding their campsite.
"Oh, and I'm quite certain you haven't had time for a proper breakfast yet, what with all the early morning travel," He continued enthusiastically. "Molly prepared enough food to feed a small army, there's more than enough for everyone. And after we've all had a good meal, we'd be delighted to help you set up your tent properly. We've just finished setting up our own, and I must say, that was quite a challenge."
"Is this really what you call 'set up'..." Hermione whispered to Harry.
Harry looked at the crooked tent behind Mr. Weasley and nodded in agreement.
This tent didn't look like it could house anyone.
"That's very generous of you, Mr. Weasley," Adrian replied with genuine warmth and appreciation, though his tone also carried a hint of polite decline. "However, I believe I have the tent situation well in hand. Please don't trouble yourself on our account."
With nonchalance, Adrian gently tossed his traveling case forward in a underhand arc. The leather suitcase landed on a perfectly level patch of grass with a soft thud, then immediately sprang open as though triggered by some mechanism.
A dazzling white light began to emanate from within the case, growing steadily brighter and more intense.
Next, the suitcase expanded and transformed like a living thing, wooden grain extending and weaving through the air, with window frames and porch outlines gradually becoming clear.
In just a few seconds, an exquisite two-story wooden house had settled steadily next to the Weasley family's tent.
There were even two decorative sunflower pots by the door.
"Good heavens," Mr. Weasley breathed, his mouth hanging open in undisguised amazement as he stared at the architectural miracle that had just appeared before his eyes. "Where on earth did you get that? I've never seen anything quite like it."
"Oh, this?" Adrian replied with the casual air of someone discussing the weather.
"I happened to have an unused house sitting empty in the Muggle world. Rather than go through all the bother of setting up a traditional tent and dealing with all the associated inconveniences, I simply decided to bring the house along. Much more comfortable for everyone involved, don't you think?"
Hermione had a strange expression on her face, undoubtedly, stuffing a house into a suitcase was much more troublesome than setting up a tent.
At this point, the rest of the Weasley family also emerged from their tent one by one, all drawn to the wooden house that had suddenly appeared nearby.
"So cool, Professor Westeros," Fred said, whistling, "Is there an Undetectable Extension Charm inside?"
"You mean inside the house?" Adrian shook his head regretfully, "Unfortunately, no. Stuffing an ordinary house into a suitcase doesn't require much effort, but if it were a house with an Undetectable Extension Charm, that would be much more troublesome."
Bill was the eldest Weasley child, working as a curse-breaker at Gringotts. After hearing Adrian's explanation, he couldn't help but show admiration. "Even so, being able to fit an entire house into a case is quite remarkable."
Adrian rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his expression taking on a slightly sheepish quality. "Well, I must admit that while the magical solution is certainly convenient, it's also rather conspicuous. Perhaps I should have opted for a more traditional tent after all, this cottage does tend to draw quite a bit of attention."
"What's wrong with drawing attention?" Ron interjected with typical teenage logic, gesturing dismissively at his family's tent disaster.
"At least you don't have to spend three hours wrestling with tent poles and guy-ropes, only to end up with something that looks like it was assembled during an earthquake. Trust me, setting up tents properly is incredibly difficult—your way is much more sensible."
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