Chapter 295

As night fell, Hoffa was awakened from his meditation by some kind of excited and fanatical emotion. Even across the tent, he could feel the tremor and frenzy of the air. That's the expectation of thousands of wizards,

lift the curtain of the peacock tent.

Under the purplish red night, orange lights are everywhere.

Some foreign witches, with boa constrictors on their upper body and shoulders, spray silver light from their wands, floating in the air like branches.

Whenever they play with the ribbon. The witches in the audience will applaud warmly. Some crazy Quidditch fans even dance hand in hand around the improvised witches, shouting meaningless slogans.

About 10 meters to the left, there are a group of fire witches. They hold small pipes with red light, inhale them deeply with their mouths, and when they open their mouths again, they spit out flames like fire dragons.

There are zebras, reindeer and goldfish in the air. They wriggle in the air and disappear in a flash.

However, every time brilliant, will bring cheers.

On the other side, a couple of peddlers with trolleys came down from the sky, carrying trays full of weird things. There are glowing rose shaped badges - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - and shrill out the names of the players.

This reminds Hoffa of the fluorescent sticks and brands that fans will hold when they go to see Aidou's concert in the future. Although they are cheap, they have a large number of people, and the shaking is also very spectacular.

It was night, and he regained his full strength. The idea of looking for Harry came back to him, but when he looked around, he felt that he took it for granted. Looking for one of the 100000 witches is undoubtedly looking for a needle in a haystack.

At this time, I don't know which Quidditch fan in the distance opened the beer and sprayed everywhere. His action was like pushing down dominoes. The men splashed on the beer, not to be outdone, shake the beer one after another, spray each other, foam splashing.

People spilled with beer not only didn't avoid it, but laughed. Only the peddlers in business helplessly propped up their umbrellas on the carts, which seemed to have been prepared for a long time.

Perhaps happiness can be infected. Looking at these Carnival witches, Hoffa is in a better mood. He grins. The beer liquid falling from the air turns into a flying butterfly before it touches his collar.

Suddenly, hula, a group of people surrounded him.

"What's that spell? Another one, brother!"

A man who had just finished drinking, a mouthful of wine, wrapped in the shawl of the Irish national team, hooked up with him on the shoulder.

"It's metamorphosis. It's just that the school didn't teach it well. It's still a curse!" People who know the goods sneer.

"Ha ha," the drinking man chuckled: "whatever magic he has, it's so beautiful. Another one."

Several girls from booth Barton also stood in the distance, watching Hoffa wrapped in butterflies, whispering to each other, covering their mouths and laughing.

Hoffa shook his head with a smile and refused the request of passers-by. He felt that he had something to do at night and didn't want to attract too much attention.

But then, several children from the tent next door came out of the crowd and reached for the butterfly beside him. The butterfly flew very fast. They didn't catch it, so they had to hold on to Hoffa's robe.

"Big brother, change again."

"Can you be a candy?"

Hoffa thought for a moment, bent down and asked with a smile the little girl who was holding his robe, "do you really want to come?"

The little girl in the unicorn headgear nodded hard. Hoffa's mouth rose and caught a flying colorful butterfly. He put 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 soared into the sky.

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

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

Hoffa smiles, takes the blowpipe out of his mouth, turns it into a transparent bubble, bends over to the little girl in the unicorn hood, and winks at him with a playful one eye.

The little girl laughed and crushed the bubble with her companion.

As a result, all the air bubbles in the sky emit a crackling roar at the same time, turning into colorful fireworks, blooming and competing, illuminating all people's faces and making them beautiful.

The crowd was shocked, screamed and cheered, pointing to the sky.

Several little wizards holding Hoffa's robes looked at the sky foolishly, with their mouths open and their eyes twinkling with longing. Then, the fireworks fell from the sky and turned into countless colorful candy.

The woman was laughing, holding her head and screaming away from the candy. The children rushed to the ground and scrambled for candy.

"What a metamorphosis."

A sigh came from behind. Hoffa turned around and saw Nicole lemme standing behind him. He said with great emotion, "even if Merlin is alive, it's just like this.""Juggling, who can't, is a fake."

Hoffa shrugged: "I didn't cheat you, did I?"

Before the people picking up the candy on the ground had time to eat it, the candy turned into the first drink and flowed away from their hands. They all sighed. When they look back for the Magic Wizard, he has disappeared in the crowd.

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

The crowd immediately forgot the fake candy and yelled at each other. Like rivers pouring into the sea, they all rush to the magnificent Quidditch stadium.

...

...

at the same time, the staff of the Department of sports and sports of the Ministry of magic, who completed the day's work, sat in twos and threes on the stone floodplain of the swamp, or smoked and chatted, or lit a bonfire to prepare food.

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

"I'm really satisfied. I've even put up the fireworks for fear that Muggles won't notice?"

A tin bucket of water was heavily placed by the campfire. Basil looked up and complained about his colleague, waster.

He sat by the campfire, took off his long rubber shoes and looked at the distant fireworks with dissatisfaction.

"I told us repeatedly about Muggle secrecy regulations before. Hum, now it's good. I guess that fool Ludo bagman is taking the lead in setting off fireworks now."

Basil handed him a roasted sausage and sat in front of the campfire without looking up. "You care about them. Who cares about Muggle secrecy at this time? Eat it. Maybe we can catch up with the game."

"I don't care. The director general of sports is a human being. I am also a human being. He is a wizard and I am a wizard."

Waster scooped out a pot of water from the bucket and put it on the campfire and started to purr.

"You don't have his passion to explain the game... Wait, don't take the water from the swamp directly. It's not clean."

Basil looked at the kettle on the campfire and murmured.

"What's the difference between water? It's weird. "

After that, he opened the kettle, added some tea to it and stretched out: "go tonight, I won't go."

"You don't like Quidditch?"

Basil looked at vaster like a monster.

"Love, of course."

Vaster rolled his eyes and drank a cup of tea happily: "if I had enough wine and food, I would like to lie on the chair and let the competition arouse my mood. But I'm tired all day, watching the game and sick. I'm going to sleep in the tent after eating, and then go back to watch the broadcast tomorrow. "

Basil was stunned, and felt that what his colleagues said was reasonable. So he looked at his colleagues who were chatting and farting, "Charlie, are you going or not?"

"No

The colleague who smokes on the stone shrugs, "I'm the descendant of Muggle, and I like football."

"And you, Sona?"

He asked a colleague who was building a tent.

That colleague did not pay attention to him, but mechanically hammered nails on the floodplain, ready to go to bed at night.

Basil scratched his head, feeling that his colleagues were a little strange.

A cold wind blew by.

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

"It's cold. Maybe it's late."

Said Walter, closing his eyes.

"No... I think... It's too cold..."

Basil covered his belly and frowned, "it's summer."

No one answered him, but he was the only one who felt cold.

They had a quiet meal by the fire for a while. At this time, gaster released the sausage, closed his eyes and stood up, his face a little pale.

"I suddenly... Want to go to sleep. After eating, go to the game by yourself." He stammered.

"Well, you really don't want to go!"

Said basil.

My colleague, Walter, didn't answer him. He turned around mechanically, opened the curtain of the tent and went into the tent.

Basil was a little confused. At this time, the deep sound of gongs came from the distance, and the Quidditch World Cup final began. He quickly swallowed the sausage in two or three mouthfuls, stood up and walked towards the world cup.

But when he went through the entrance with the banner, he thought of his colleagues again. This is the Quidditch World Cup final. Why didn't one of them come.

After thinking about it, he decided to go back and try again.

In the night, he returned to the Shimantan filled with fog. His colleagues still should smoke, cook and set up tents, but they didn't talk with each other."Sona, are you going to the final or not?"

When he came to the colleague who was setting up the tent, he saw him hammering the nail. The nail was obviously deep in the stone, and he didn't stop.

"Sona!"

He doesn't feel right. He bends down.

Colleagues closed their eyes, numbly raise the hammer, fall, raise the hammer, fall, it looks like they are asleep.

Hiss!

Basil took a cold breath, and the ominous and strange omens rose like blood pressure. He drew out his wand.

Looking around, I found that my smoking colleagues smoked their cigarettes to their buttocks, but they didn't realize that my friend who was baking sausage by the campfire had already burnt the sausage. A hazy mist passed over their faces, and each of them closed their eyes.

"Hello

He gave a tentative cry, but no one answered.

He tossed his Adam's apple up and down and lifted the curtain of Walter's tent.

I saw his companion in tweed suit standing in the same place, nodding his head.

"Walter?"

He gave a tentative cry.

No one answered.

He walked up to his colleague and found that he too closed his eyes and his head was twitching, just like a student dozing off in class.

"What's the matter with you, Walter?"

He grabbed his companion's shoulder and shook it hard.

In this flash, in front of the gas special like a deflated ball, the whole person instantly soft couch down, as if his colleagues are not flesh and blood, but inflatable rubber man.

This scene made Basil scream like crazy. He couldn't stand this strange thing any more and rushed out of the tent.

He was petrified as soon as he got out of the tent.

Outside the tent, in the fog of the swamp, I don't know when there are a large number of men in black military uniform. Each of them is wearing a strange birdcage on their head, holding a torch in their hand, standing in the swamp at night in silence, like a sculpture.

The bone chilling wind blows out from behind the caged men and blows on people. The bodies of colleagues who are like sleepwalkers fall off their skeletons like fragments. Before they fall to the ground, they become rolling dust.

"Ah, he - he - he - they're off!"

In the distance, on the Quidditch court, the scream of host Ludo bagman was clearly visible, "this is marlette! TROY! Moran! Dimitrov! To marlette again! TROY! Lefsky! Moran

At the edge of the dark swamp, several soldiers holding torches and wearing bird's bridles stood up in silence, lowered the torches and lit the tents on the edge of the swamp.

All of a sudden, the fire burst into the sky.

Basil turned and ran without saying a word.