As night fell, Hoffa was awakened from his meditation by some kind of excitement and fanaticism. Even through the tent, he could feel the trembling and fanaticism in the air. It was the anticipation of thousands of wizards.
He lifted the curtain of the Peacock Tent.
Under the purplish red night, orange lights were everywhere.
Some foreign wizards were bare-chested, with pythons coiled around their shoulders. The wands in their hands spat out silver light ribbons, which floated in the air like tree branches.
Every time they played with the light ribbons. The onlooking wizards would applaud and cheer enthusiastically. Some fanatical Quidditch fans even held hands and danced around the wizards who were performing impromptu, shouting unknown slogans.
About ten meters to the left, there was a group of wizards who played with fire. They held small smoking pipes that flashed with red light and inhaled deeply with their mouths. When they opened their mouths again, they spat out flames like fire dragons.
The flames formed various shapes in the air. There were zebras, reindeer, and goldfish. They twisted their bodies in the air, and after a moment of brilliance, they disappeared.
However, every brilliance was accompanied by cheers.
On the other side, a few peddlers pushing carts descended from the sky, carrying trays filled with all sorts of strange things. There were shining rose-shaped badges — green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria — and they could scream the names of their teammates.
This reminded Hoffa of the future fans who held up light sticks and signs when they went to see their idols in concert. Although they were cheap, when there were a lot of people, they were very spectacular.
It was now night, and he was fully recovered. The idea of looking for Harry came to his mind again, but when he looked around, he felt that he had taken it for granted. Looking for one person in a hundred thousand wizards was no doubt like looking for a needle in a haystack.
At this time, a Quidditch fan in the distance opened his beer and sprayed it everywhere. His action was like pushing down dominoes. The men who were splashed with beer were not to be outdone. They shook their beer and sprayed it at each other, white foam flying everywhere.
The people who were splashed with beer not only did not dodge, but also laughed loudly. Only the hawkers had no choice but to hold up their umbrellas on their carts. It seemed like they had been prepared for this.
Perhaps happiness was contagious. Looking at these merry Magi, Hoffa's mood couldn't help but improve. He grinned, and before the beer droplets touched his collar, they turned into butterflies that fluttered in all directions.
Immediately, a group of people surrounded him.
"What kind of curse is that? Give me another one, bro!"
A man who had just finished drinking and whose breath reeked of alcohol and was wrapped in an Irish national team shawl hooked his arm around his shoulder.
"That's a shapeshifting technique. It's obvious that the school didn't teach it well. Curse!" A knowledgeable person mocked.
"Haha." The man who was drinking laughed boorishly. "Who cares what kind of magic it is? It's too beautiful. Let's have another one."
A few Boosbottom girls also stood in the distance and looked at Hoffa who was wrapped in butterflies. They whispered to each other and covered their mouths to laugh.
Hoffa smiled and shook his head, rejecting the passerby's request. He felt that he still had things to do at night and didn't want to attract too much attention.
But at this time, a few children from the tent next door came out of the crowd and reached out to catch the butterflies beside him. The butterflies flew very fast and they couldn't catch them. They could only pull on Hoffa's trousers.
"Big brother, transform again."
"Do you know how to transform into candy?"
Hoffa thought for a moment, bent down, and smiled at the little girl who pulled on his robe. "Do you really want to do it?"
The little girl wearing the unicorn headgear nodded vigorously. Hoffa's lips curled up. He caught a flying colorful butterfly and waved it in front of the little girl. The butterfly turned into a small blowpipe in his hand. He held the blowpipe in his mouth. Suddenly, thousands of colorful bubbles flew out of his mouth, and those bubbles went straight to the sky.
"I want bubbles, I want bubbles …"
The little girl under him jumped up and tried to catch the bubbles in the air.
Huo Fa smiled. He removed the blowpipe from his mouth and turned it into a transparent bubble. He bent over and handed it to the little girl wearing the unicorn mask beside him. She winked at him playfully with her single eye.
The little girl laughed and crushed the bubble with her companion.
As a result, all the bubbles in the sky crackled at the same time and turned into colorful fireworks. They bloomed strangely and competed with each other in terms of beauty, illuminating everyone's faces. It was a magnificent sight.
The crowd screamed and cheered in shock, pointing at the sky.
The few little wizards who pulled on Hoffa's robe looked at the sky in a daze. Their mouths were wide open, and their eyes were shining with longing. Then, the fireworks fell from the sky, and turned into countless colorful candies.
The women laughed, hugged their heads, and screamed as they hid from the candies. The little children rushed to the ground and fought for the candies.
"What an amazing transformation spell."
There was a soft sigh behind him. Hoffa turned around and saw Nicole Lemay standing behind him. She sighed. "Even if Merlin was alive, he wouldn't be able to do it."
"Magic, who doesn't know how to do it? It's all fake."
Hoffa shrugged. "I didn't fool you, did I?"
The crowd who picked up the candies on the ground did not have time to eat them. The candies turned back into wine and flowed from their hands. They sighed Zizi. When they turned back to look for the magical wizard, he had already disappeared into the crowd.
At this time, a low sound of a gong came from somewhere in the forest. Immediately, thousands of red and green lanterns bloomed on the trees, illuminating the path to the arena.
The crowd immediately forgot about the fake candies and shouted to each other. Like a river flowing into the sea, Zizi rushed to the magnificent Quidditch arena.
.....
.....
At the same time, at the edge of the swamp, the staff of the Sports Department of the Ministry of Magic sat on the rocky beach in twos and threes after finishing their day's work. Some were smoking and chatting, while others started a bonfire and prepared food.
Basil was one of them. When he took out a few frozen sausages from his bag, countless fireworks exploded in the sky.
"I really have to hand it to them. They even set off fireworks. Are they afraid that the Muggles won't notice?"
A metal bucket filled with water was placed heavily beside the bonfire. Basil looked up and saw that the person complaining was his colleague, West.
He sat beside the bonfire, took off his long rubber shoes, and looked at the fireworks in the distance with dissatisfaction.
"Earlier, he kept telling us about the Muggles' confidentiality rules. Hmph, look at it now. I think that idiot Ludo Bagman is leading the way to set off fireworks."
Basil handed him a roasted sausage and sat in front of the bonfire without looking up. "Who cares about them? Who cares about the Muggles' confidentiality rules at a time like this? Eat, eat. Who knows, maybe we can still make it in time for the competition."
"Why can't I care? The director of the Sports Department is human, and so am I. He's a wizard, and so am I."
West scooped out a pot of water from the bucket and put it on the bonfire to boil.
"You don't have his passion as a commentator … Wait, don't use the water from the swamp. It's not clean."
Basil muttered as he looked at the kettle on the bonfire.
"What's the difference if it's all water? So particular. "
With that, he opened the pot without a care and added some tea leaves. He stretched and said, "You go tonight. I'm not going."
"You don't like watching Quidditch?"
Basil looked at West as if he was a monster.
"I do. Of course I do."
West rolled his eyes and sipped his tea happily. "If I could eat and drink to my heart's content, lie comfortably on the chair, and let the competition stir my emotions, of course I'd be willing. But watching the competition after a tiring day would be crazy. I plan to go straight to the tent and sleep after eating. Then I'll go back and watch the broadcast tomorrow. "
Basil was stunned. He felt that what his colleague said made sense. So he looked at the other colleagues who were chatting. "Charlie, are you going?"
"Nope."
The colleague sitting on the rock and smoking shrugged. "I'm a descendant of Muggles. I like football."
"What about you, Sona?"
He asked another colleague who was building a tent with clanking sounds.
That colleague ignored him and just mechanically hammered nails on the rocky beach to prepare a place to sleep for the night.
Basil, who was asking for a snub, scratched his head. He felt that his colleagues were a little weird.
A cold wind blew past.
Basil shivered and tightened his clothes. "Don't you feel a little cold?"
"Cold, a little. Maybe it's because it's late."
West closed his eyes and answered.
"No … I think … it's a little too cold …"
Basil clutched his stomach and frowned. "It's summer."
No one answered him. He was the only one who felt cold.
The two ate quietly by the fire for a while. Then, West let go of the sausage and stood up with his eyes closed. His face was a little pale.
"I suddenly … feel like sleeping. You can go watch the competition after eating," he stuttered.
"Hey, you're really not going?!"
Basil said.
West did not answer him. He turned around mechanically, opened the tent's curtain, and went in.
Basil was a little confused. Just then, the deep sound of a gong came from afar. The finals of the Quidditch World Cup had begun. He quickly swallowed the sausage in two to three bites, stood up, and walked toward the World Cup stadium.
But when he passed through the entrance with the banner, he could not help but think of his colleagues. This was the Quidditch World Cup final. Why didn't any of them come?
After some thought, he decided to go back and persuade them.
In the darkness of the night, he returned to the foggy rocky beach. His colleagues were still smoking, cooking, and pitching tents, but there was no conversation between them.
"Sona, are you going to watch the final?"
He came to his colleague who was setting up the tent and saw him hammering on a nail. The nail was clearly smashed deep into the stone, but he did not stop.
"Sona?!"
He felt something was wrong and bent down to take a look.
His colleague's eyes were closed. He numbly raised the hammer and dropped it. He raised the hammer and dropped it again. It looked like he was asleep.
Hiss …!
Basil sucked in a cold breath. The ominous and strange feeling rose like his blood pressure. He pulled out his wand.
Looking around, he realized that his colleagues who were smoking had smoked all the way to their butts. They did not realize that their friends who were roasting sausages by the fire had already burnt them. The hazy fog floated past their faces. All of them had their eyes closed.
"Hello …?"
He called out tentatively, but no one answered.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he lifted the curtain of Wast's tent.
He saw his colleague in a tweed suit standing in the same spot, nodding his head continuously.
"Wast?"
He called out tentatively.
No one answered.
He walked up to his colleague and realized that his eyes were also closed. His head kept twitching, like a student who was dozing off in class.
"Wast, what's wrong with you guys?"
He grabbed his colleague's shoulder and shook him hard.
With this shake, Wast, who was in front of him, was like a deflated balloon. His entire body went limp, as if his colleague was not made of flesh and blood, but an inflatable rubber man.
This scene made Basil scream like a madman. He could not take this strange thing anymore and rushed out of the tent.
But as soon as he left the tent, he froze on the spot.
Outside the tent, in the fog of the swamp, there was a large group of men in black military uniforms standing there. Each of them wore a strange birdcage on their heads and held a torch in their hands. They stood silently in the swamp at night like statues.
A bone-chilling wind blew out from behind the men in birdcages. When it blew on their bodies, the bodies of their sleepwalking colleagues fell off their skeletons like fragments, turning into clouds of dust before they hit the ground.
"Ah, he-he-he-they've set off!"
In the distance, on the Quidditch field, the host Ludo Bagman's scream could be heard clearly. "This is Mallet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! And passed it to Mallet! Troy! Leversky! Moran! "
At the edge of the dark swamp, a few soldiers holding torches and wearing birdcages stood out silently. They lowered their torches and lit up the tents by the swamp.
Suddenly, the flames soared into the sky.
Basil turned his head and ran without a word.
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