As night fell, Hoffa was awakened from meditation by some kind of excitement and fanaticism. Even through the tent, he could feel the trembling and fanaticism in the air. That was the expectation of thousands of wizards,

Open the curtain of the peacock tent.

Under the purple-red night, orange lights are everywhere.

Some foreign wizards were naked, with pythons coiled around their shoulders. The magic wands in their hands sprayed out silver ribbons of light, floating in the air like tree branches.

Whenever they played with the light strips, the onlookers would applaud enthusiastically. Some enthusiastic Quidditch fans even held hands and danced around the improvised wizards, shouting slogans of unknown meaning.

About ten meters to the left, there is a group of fire wizards. They hold up small pipes with red light, inhale deeply with their mouths, and when they open their mouths again, they spit out flames like fire dragons.

The flames formed various shapes in the air, including zebras, reindeer, and goldfish. They twisted in the air, shone brightly, and then disappeared.

However, every brilliance brings cheers.

On the other side, several vendors with small carts descended from the sky, carrying trays filled with strange things. There were glowing rose-shaped badges, green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria, and a shrill scream.

Call out the team members' names.

This reminded Hoffa of the light sticks and signs that fans would hold up when going to idol concerts in the future. Although they are cheap, when there are more people, they will be very spectacular when they are shaken.

It was night now, and he had regained his full energy. 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. Finding one person among a hundred thousand wizards was undoubtedly like finding a needle in a haystack.

At this time, an unknown Quidditch fan in the distance opened the beer and sprayed it everywhere. His action was like knocking down dominoes. The men who were splashed with beer shook the beer one after another, not to be outdone, and sprayed each other with foam.

splash.

The people who were spilled by the beer not only did not hide away, but also burst into laughter. Only the vendors who were doing business reluctantly held up umbrellas on the carts, seemingly prepared.

Maybe happiness can be contagious. Looking at these carnival wizards, Hoffa couldn't help but feel better. He grinned, and the beer liquid falling in the air turned into flying stars before touching his collar.

Butterflies, flying around.

Suddenly, a group of people surrounded him.

"What kind of curse is that? One more one, little brother!"

A man who had just finished drinking, smelled of alcohol, and was wearing an Irish national team cape hooked his shoulder.

"That's the art of transfiguration. It seems like the school didn't teach it well, and it's a magic spell!" A knowledgeable person mocked.

"Haha," the drinking man laughed crudely: "Whatever magic, it's so beautiful, let's have another one."

Several Beauxbatons girls also stopped and stood in the distance, looking at Hoffa wrapped in butterflies, whispering to each other, covering their mouths and snickering.

Hoffa shook his head with a smile and rejected the passerby's request. He felt that he had something to do at night and didn't want to attract too much attention.

But at this time, several children from the tent next door emerged from the crowd and reached out to catch the butterfly beside him. The butterfly flew very fast, and they did not catch it, so they had to hold on to Hoffa's robe.

"Big brother, change again."

"Can you turn into candy?"

Hoffa thought for a moment, bent down, smiled and asked the little girl holding his robe, "Are you really coming?"

The little girl wearing a unicorn headband nodded vigorously. Hoffa raised the corners of his mouth, grabbed a flying colorful butterfly, and waved the butterfly in front of the little girl. The butterfly turned into a small blowpipe in his hand.

He held the blowpipe in his mouth, and suddenly thousands of colorful bubbles flew out of his mouth, and those bubbles shot straight into the sky.

"I want bubbles, I want bubbles..."

The child under him jumped up and tried to catch the bubbles in the air.

Hoffa smiled, took off the blowpipe from his mouth, turned it into a transparent bubble, bent down and handed it to the little girl wearing a unicorn hood next to him, and winked at his playful single eye.

The little girl laughed and crushed the bubbles with her companions.

As a result, all the bubbles in the sky crackled and roared at the same time, turning into colorful fireworks, blooming strangely, competing for beauty, lighting up everyone's faces, and making it beautiful.

The crowd screamed and cheered in shock, pointing to the sky.

The few young wizards who held Hoffa's robe looked at the sky stupidly, their mouths open and their eyes shining with longing. Then, the fireworks fell from the sky and turned into countless colorful candies.

The woman laughed happily, held her head, and screamed to avoid the candy. The children rushed to the ground and scrambled for the candy.

"What an amazing transfiguration."

There was a sigh from behind. Hoffa turned around and saw Nico Flamel standing behind him. He said with great emotion, "Even if Merlin is alive, he is nothing more than this."

"Anyone who can't do magic tricks is all fake."

Hoffa shrugged: "Didn't I fool you?"

Before the people who picked up the candies on the ground had time to eat, the candies turned into drinks and flowed away from their hands. They all sighed. When they looked back to find the magical wizard,

He has disappeared into the crowd.

At this time, a deep and deep sound of gongs came from somewhere far away in the woods. Immediately, thousands of red and green lanterns bloomed on the trees, illuminating the road leading to the arena.

The crowd immediately forgot about the fake candies and shouted at each other. They all rushed towards the magnificent Quidditch field like a river flowing into the sea.

...

...

At the same time, by the swamp, the staff of the Sports Department of the Ministry of Magic who had finished their work for the day were sitting in twos and threes on the rocky floodplain of the swamp, either smoking and chatting, or building a bonfire and preparing food.

Basil was one of them. When he took out a few frozen sausages from his luggage bag, countless fireworks exploded in the sky.

"You're so convinced that you even set off the fireworks. Are you afraid that the Muggles won't notice?"

An iron bucket filled with water was placed heavily beside the campfire. Basil looked up and saw that the person complaining was his colleague, Vast.

I saw him sitting by the campfire, taking off his long rubber shoes, and looking at the fireworks in the distance with a dissatisfied expression.

"Before, we were repeatedly told about Muggle confidentiality regulations. Well, it's better now. I guess that idiot Ludo Bagman is taking the lead in setting off fireworks."

Basil handed him a grilled sausage and sat in front of the campfire without raising his head. "You don't care about them. Who cares about Muggle confidentiality regulations at this time? Eat it, eat it, and tell you after you finish it."

Maybe we can still catch up with the game.”

"Why can't I care? The Director of the Sports Department is a human being, and so am I. He is a wizard, and I am also a wizard."

Vast scooped out a pot of water from the bucket, put it on the bonfire and started to boil.

"You don't have his passion for explaining the game...Wait a minute, don't use the water directly from the swamp, it's not clean."

Basil looked at the kettle on the campfire and muttered something.

"What's the difference if they're both water? It's really weird."

After saying that, he opened the kettle nonchalantly, added some tea leaves to it, and stretched: "You can go tonight, I won't go."

"You don't like watching Quidditch?"

Basil looked at Vaster as if he were a monster.

"Love, of course I love you."

Vast rolled his eyes and took a sip of tea happily: "If you let me have a good meal, lie down comfortably on a chair, and let the game arouse my emotions, I would naturally be willing. But after a tiring day, I still watch

I’m sick during the game. I plan to go to the tent to sleep directly after eating, and then go back to watch the broadcast tomorrow.”

Basil was stunned for a moment, feeling that what his colleague said made sense. So he looked at the other colleagues around him who were chatting and spanking, "Charlie, are you going?"

"Not going."

The colleague who was sitting on the stone and smoking shrugged, "I am of Muggle descent and I like football."

"What about you, Sona?"

He asked a colleague who was building a tent.

The colleague ignored him and just mechanically hammered nails on the rocky floodplain to prepare a place to sleep at night.

Basil, who was asking for trouble, scratched his head and felt that his colleagues were a little weird.

A cold wind blew by.

Basil shivered and tightened his clothes, "Don't you feel a little cold?"

"It's a bit cold, maybe. It's probably because it's getting late."

Vast answered with his eyes closed.

"No...I think...it's a bit too cold..."

Basil held his belly and frowned, "It's obviously summer."

No one answered his words, he was the only one who felt cold.

The two of them ate quietly by the fire for a while. At this time, Vast let go of the sausage, closed his eyes and stood up, his face a little pale.

"I suddenly... really want to sleep. After dinner, you can go watch the game by yourself." He stammered.

"Hey, you really don't want to go!?"

Basil said.

Colleague Vast did not answer him. He turned around mechanically, opened the tent curtain and entered the tent.

Basil was a little confused. At this time, a deep and deep sound of gongs was heard in the distance, and the Quidditch World Cup finals began. He quickly swallowed the sausage in three mouthfuls, stood up, and walked towards the World Cup stadium.

But when he walked through the entrance with the banner, he couldn't help but think of his colleagues. This was the Quidditch World Cup finals, why didn't any of them come?
To be continued...