23. quidditch world cup.

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Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts of laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; none of them could stop grinning. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side, and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the pitch he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weaslet, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle-Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again ... Bless them," he added fondly, leading the way towards the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance, when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upwards with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last, they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Antheia, following the Weasleys into the front seats, looked down upon a scene the like of which she could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats which rose in levels around the long oval pitch. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light that seemed to come from the stadium itself. The pitch looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the pith stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Antheia's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand was scrawling upon it and then wiping it off again; watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the pitch.

The Bluebottle" A Broom for All the Family -

safe, reliable, and with In-built Ani-Burglar

Buzzer ... Mrs. Slower's All Purpose Magical

Mess-Remover: No Pain, No Stain! ... Gladrags

Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade ...

Harry tore his eyes away from the sign and looked over his shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea-towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, bat-like ears were oddly familiar ...

"Dobby?" said Harry incredulously.

The tiny creature looked up and parted its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato. It wasn't Dobby it was, however, unmistakable a house-elf, as Harry's friend Dobby had been. Harry had set Dobby free from his old owners, the Malfoy family.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously. From between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected - thought it was very hard to tell with a house-elf - that this one might just be female. Ron, Hermione, and Antheia spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked in interest.

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