A few days later, three in the morning.
South of Newport in Wales, in the fog of an unknown swamp, two figures carrying lanterns argued as they walked.
"Damn it, why are they here so early? I really have to hand it to that idiot Bagman. He made us wait here for an entire night!"
A man in a tweed suit, holding a gold watch, threw an empty suitcase on the ground heavily. He tightened the nondescript rubber overshoes on his lower body, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one up.
"Who said he wasn't? Sigh, it's just one day. Bear with it, West," said a man wearing a short pleated Highland skirt and a South American cape.
"Bear with it?"
West, who was wearing a tweed suit and a gold watch, blew out a smoke ring angrily and roared, "Basil, you're still speaking up for him at a time like this? That old man gambled with a few fairies until late at night. I don't know where he is now having fun with the Bulgarian beauties. I really don't know how someone like him became a director."
"Shh, don't let anyone hear you!"
Basil, who was wearing a short pleated Highland skirt and a South American cape, quickly covered his companion's mouth and warned, "Be careful, West. Don't let anyone hear you. Bagman is very petty."
With his mouth covered, Varth impatiently broke free from his companion's restraints. He fiercely straightened his collar and squinted his eyes.
He squinted his eyes and said, "What's there to be afraid of, Basil? You're really careful. I got into the Ministry of Magic with my own abilities. Do you think he'll fire me? Besides, at this time, all the Magi are sleeping. Who would be stupid enough to come so early? "
"Calm down … Calm down … No one would dare do anything to you." Basil quickly put in a good word and patted his colleague's back.
Just as Basil finished speaking, the sound of footsteps could be heard from the fog of the swamp in the distance.
He was slightly stunned and looked at his watch. It was three o 'clock in the morning. There was still one day before the World Cup in Quidditch. Who would come so early? Could it be some foreign Magus?
The irritable West tactfully shut his mouth. The two of them held up their lanterns in the dark swamp and waited quietly.
Patter.
Patter.
Patter.
The footsteps were as precise and firm as a clock.
After that, Basil saw a tall figure slowly walking out of the fog of the Welsh Marshes at three in the morning. He was wearing a plain gray robe and was dressed like a street wizard. However, the only strange thing about him was that he had a strange cage on his head. His long white hair flowed out of the cage like a waterfall, almost reaching the ground.
Basil was stunned by his attire. He had never seen such a strange attire before. The man walked gracefully through the mist as if he was taking a stroll in a park …
On the other hand, his companion Wester, who always complained about his boss, was the first to react. He stepped forward and asked in a serious tone, "Adept?"
The man wearing the strange birdcage nodded slowly.
"Are you here to watch Quidditch play?"
The strange white-haired man nodded again.
Basil hurriedly took out a scroll of parchment and a quill from his pocket.
"Do you have an invitation?"
Waster asked as a matter of routine.
The white-haired man shook his head.
"Do you have a ticket?" Waster asked again.
The Adept with the birdcage slowly reached his hand to his waist and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
Basil looked down. Wasn't that a piece of scrap paper?
He was about to scold the oddly dressed Adept, but the irritable Varys nodded and handed the paper back.
Basil took a closer look and felt that he must have been seeing things due to fatigue. It was clearly a brand new ticket.
He let out a sigh of relief and asked, "Didn't you come here with a key?"
"Key?" The white-haired man tilted his head with the birdcage.
"Err, I was just asking. It's not easy to find this location with Mirage. Hahaha, please register here."
Basil smiled as if they were close friends and handed over the parchment and quill.
However, the man with the birdcage didn't respond, nor did he take the paper and sign it. This made Basil scratch his head awkwardly. This made him feel awkward.
For some reason, even though he couldn't see the man's face through the birdcage, he could feel a pair of breathtaking eyes under the birdcage. Being stared at by this guy made him feel uncomfortable.
The white-haired man stood under the moonlight and tilted his head in thought. Then, he smiled and asked, "Excuse me, where is the most crowded resting area in the arena?"
The gentle voice made Basil feel as if he was bathed in a spring breeze, as if all the stars in the night sky had lit up at the same time. He immediately forgot about signing the paper and started to think. "Err … this …"
However, his companion had already thought about it. Waster said, "There are fewer people in the first arena. They are all foreign visitors. The most crowded resting area is naturally the second arena. The third arena has the least people. That's the resting area for the higher-ups of the Ministry of Magic."
"Oh, I see. Thank you."
The strange-looking man with the birdcage bowed slightly and bent down.
Then, just like how he appeared, he took steps as precise as a clock, step by step disappearing into the dense fog of the night in Wales.
After the man left for nearly 20 minutes, Basil finally recovered from the spring breeze feeling. He slowly frowned. "What kind of weird outfit is that?"
"Who knows." Waster was still smiling as he looked at the place where the man disappeared. "Probably a wizard from another country. These foreigners are really weird."
"Will there be any problems …" Basil muttered to himself.
Basil mumbled to himself. He felt like he had forgotten something.
Crackle.
A light crackling sound came from the fog, followed by noisy noises.
"Over here! Dear! "
"Oh, damn, it's a swamp. My shoes!"
"I told you to be careful!"
"Hurry up, don't worry about the shoes. Go and sign. While there are fewer people, let's find a good spot!"
"Haha, yes, grab a spot, grab a spot!"
Basil recovered from his thoughts. Along with the cheerful voices, a group of short figures rushed out of the fog. They held lanterns hand in hand and looked like the seven dwarves in fairy tales.
Waster frowned. "Irish Dwarf Demons …"
As soon as he finished speaking, the leading dwarf demon jumped up and threw an old can to Basil. Then, he snatched the parchment and quill in Basil's hands and wrote a long list of names on it. As he wrote, he laughed and said, "Your director-general drank too much. Haha, he bet on Bulgaria to win. I hope he doesn't regret it tomorrow, hahahaha!"
After laughing, he threw the messy parchment back to Basil. Then, hand in hand, they happily jumped into the fog.
Basil had forgotten everything after being tormented by the dwarfs. Waster started cursing again. "The director-general personally participated in the bet. Damn it, what was he thinking? I bet Bagman won't be in his position for more than a few years!"
Basil didn't want to pay attention to his companions' complaints anymore because there was another crackling sound in the distance. Another group of people had been teleported here through the door key from an unknown place.
.....
The busy work began at dawn. People were constantly teleported here from all over the world. They all spoke in different accents, asked questions, signed documents, and returned the door key. The big box containing the door key was changed again and again.
It wasn't until five in the morning that the sky began to brighten. Only then did the number of visitors lessen. At this time, Basil was so tired that he was dizzy. Beside him, Waster's face was even gloomier. He didn't even have the energy to scold his superior.
I hope I won't be so unlucky in the future, Basil thought. Being on duty at this time …
.....
Crackle.
It was accompanied by the sound of the door key falling to the ground.
Someone sighed and complained, "Sigh, I'm old, I'm old. I can't use the door key anymore. Every time I use it, it spins until … until I feel nauseous."
"Who told you to come, old man? I can do it by myself. "
"Please, that's Crouch! Do you really think you can see him without my help? Cough, cough … Besides, it's not wrong to want to see the Quidditch World Cup. Since you're here, how can you miss this kind of competition? "
"Alright, shut up," a young voice said impatiently. A young voice said impatiently, "All of you are so weak. Hurry up if you want to leave!"
Basil and Waster stood up straight.
This time, two figures walked out of the mist, one tall and one short. After getting closer, Basil could see that they were a youth and an old man.
The tall young man had a peculiar appearance. He was about 1.78 meters tall and had a bald head. His ears were inlaid with silver earrings, and his eyes shone with a dim golden light under the morning sun. Of course, what was even more eye-catching was his set of clothes.
He wore a blue wizard robe with a double-layered shawl on his shoulders. There were silver eagle patterns on the shawl, and the robe was split into three parts. It looked like the tail feathers of some kind of bird. It was very gorgeous. At first glance, it was obvious that he was a member of an ancient wizard family.
In comparison, the old man beside him was much more shabby. He wore an old robe with a hood. He was hunched over and trembled, as if he would fall to the ground and die in the next second.
Due to the youth's strange and noble appearance, Basil perked up. Although the Ministry of Magic prohibited wearing wizard clothes to watch the competition, it didn't mean that all wizards had to follow the rules. Those who could break the rules were often more worthy of attention.
"Hello." Basil stepped forward.
The trembling old man stepped forward. "H-hello, my name is Ali Basil. This, this is my grandson, Holva Basil."
"Ali Bashir, Holva Bashir …"
Basil flipped through the list. "Oh, go forward. First arena. Turn left after 100 meters."
"Thank you." The old man smiled politely. "Thank you for your hard work." After that, he fell into a daze as if he had Alzheimer's.
The bald youth covered his eyebrows with one hand to block the sun. With the other hand, he handed a football full of holes to Basil. "Is this the entrance to Quidditch World Cup?"
"The entrance is inside. We're responsible for collecting the key and signing the papers." Basil took the football full of holes and threw it into the box. "Oh, of course. If you're a guest invited by the Ministry of Magic, you don't have to sign the papers."
The bald youth nodded. "We're looking for Barty Crouch. He's the one who invited us here. How do we get there? "
"I see."
Basil straightened his face and searched through the list of names on the parchment. "Barty Crouch … Barty Crouch … Oh, I found it. Go forward about half a mile. It's in the third field at the front."
"Thank you."
The bald youth covered his eyes with the sun and bowed politely to Basil. Then, he pulled the old man who was about to die. "Let's go. Don't just stand there!"
The old man reacted and complained, "You should feel sorry for me, Horva. I'm old and need enough sleep. I can't be like you …"
"Don't give me that," the youth said lazily. "You won't die before I do."
"Don't jinx it. You want me to die that much?"
"Hmph. In the East, there's an old saying. I don't know if you've heard it before. It goes like this: 'Old men who don't die are thieves.'"
"You …!"
The old man muttered angrily.
The two figures, one old and one young, also disappeared into the morning fog.
Basil was confused. He turned to look at West. "Is that how a grandson talks to his grandfather?"
West widened his tired eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe that's how foreigners behave."
The strange pair of grandfather and grandson just left.
Crackling sounds came from the distance. This time, it was a large group of people.
"5: 07, from Stoat Mountain," West said weakly.
Then, a large group of people rushed out of the morning fog. The leader was a red-haired man in a golf shirt and old jeans. The pants were a little too big for him, so he tied them with a wide leather belt.
"Good morning, Basil," the red-haired man said.
The red-haired man said as he picked up a boot from the ground and handed it to Basil.
Basil took the boot tiredly and threw it into the trash can. "Hello, Arthur. You're not on duty. Hmm? Some people are really lucky … We've been here all night … You'd better get out of the way. There's a large group coming from the Black Forest at 5: 15.
Wait a minute, let me see where your camp is … Weasley … Weasley … "
Basil searched on the parchment list. "Walk for about a quarter of a mile. It's the first field in front. The camp manager is Mr. Roberts. Diggory … You're at the second field … Look for Mr. Payne. "
"Thank you, Basil," Arthur Weasley said.
He waved behind him. A large group of boys and a few girls walked past them, laughing. Two identical red-haired twins even playfully stuck out their tongues at the exhausted Basil.
After they left, West said numbly, "It's so lively.
"It's really lively."
"Who says it isn't?"
Basil rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I really hope these people don't cause any trouble."
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