295 Chapter 17, the Eve of the Game

A few days later, at three o'clock in the morning.

Wales, in the mist of the unknown marshes south of Newport, two figures with lanterns walked and argued.

"Damn it so early, I really gave in to that idiot Bagman, let us stay here all night!"

A man in a tweed suit holding a gold watch heavily threw a large empty suitcase on the ground. He tightened his nondescript galoshes on his lower body, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and took out a lit.

"Who says it's not, hey, it's just one day, bear with it, Vast." said a man wearing a Scottish Highland pleated skirt and a South American cape.

"Tolerate?"

Holding a gold watch and wearing a tweed suit, Gast spit out a smoke ring angrily and shouted: "Basil, you are still talking for him at this time, that old guy gambled with some goblins until late at night, and now he doesn't know Where is happy with the Veela in Bulgaria, I really don’t know how a person like him became the director.”

"Shh, don't let anyone hear you!"

Basil, who was wearing a Scottish highland pleated skirt and a South American cloak, quickly covered his companion's mouth and warned, "Be careful, Vast, don't let anyone hear you, that fellow Bagman has a small mind."

Gast, whose mouth was covered, broke free from his companion's shackles impatiently, straightened his collar resentfully, and squinted:

"What are you afraid of, Basil, you are really careful. I also got admitted to the Ministry of Magic by virtue of my ability. Can he still fire me? Besides, at this point, those wizards are all sleeping. Who would be stupid? so early?"

"Calm down. Calm down. No one dares to do anything to you." Basil quickly said good things and patted his colleague on the back.

Just as Basil finished speaking, pattering footsteps could be heard in the mist of the swamp in the distance.

He was slightly taken aback, and looked at his watch, which showed that it was three o'clock in the morning. There is still one day before the Quidditch World Cup, who would come so early, could it be some foreign wizard?

Gast, who was irritable beside him, closed his mouth wisely, and the two of them waited quietly in the dark swamp, holding up the lantern.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

The footsteps are as precise and firm as clockwork.

Then, Basil saw a tall figure slowly walking out of the fog in the Welsh swamp at three o'clock in the morning. He was dressed in a plain gray robe, and he was dressed almost like a street wizard, but the only strange thing was that he There was a strange cage on his head, making it difficult to see his attire clearly. His long white hair slid out of the cage like a waterfall and could almost be dragged to the ground.

That attire stunned Basil for a while, he had never seen such a strange attire, the man walked in the mist gracefully, as if walking in a park.

It was his companion, Vast, who always complained about his boss, who reacted first. He took a step forward and asked seriously, "Wizard?"

The man wearing the strange birdcage nodded slowly.

"Come to see the Quidditch match?"

The strange white-haired man nodded again.

Basil quickly took out a roll of parchment and a quill from his pocket.

"Is there an invitation?"

Vaster asked a routine question.

The white-haired man shook his head.

"Are there any tickets?" Waster asked again.

The wizard wearing a birdcage slowly stretched his palm to his waist, pulled out a crumpled note and handed it over.

Basil looked down. Isn't that obviously a piece of waste paper?

He was about to scold the strangely dressed wizard, but the irascible Varys nodded and handed the waste paper back.

Taking a closer look, Basil felt that he must have been too tired to look at it, and it was obviously a brand new ticket.

He breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "Didn't you use the portkey to come here?"

"Portkey?" The white-haired man tilted his head in the cage.

"Uh, I'm just asking casually. It's not easy to find this location by Apparating. Hahaha, please register here."

Basil smiled familiarly, and handed over the parchment and quill in his hand.

But the man wearing the birdcage didn't respond to him, nor did he take the paper to sign, which made him scratch his head in embarrassment, which made him a little embarrassed.

For some reason, although he couldn't see the man's face clearly through the birdcage, he could feel a pair of breathtaking eyes under the birdcage. Being looked at by this guy made him a little uncomfortable.

I saw the white-haired man standing under the moonlight, tilting his head to think for a while, and then asked with a smile: "Excuse me, where is the rest area with the most people in the arena?"

The soft voice made Basil feel like a spring breeze. It seemed that the stars in the entire night sky were brightened at the same time. He immediately forgot about the signing and other things, and started to think: "Eh, this."

But his companion had already thought about it before him. He only heard Vaster say: "There are relatively few people in the first venue, and they are all foreign visitors. The rest area with the most people is naturally the second venue, and the third venue has the least people. It's the rest area of ​​the Ministry of Magic's upper echelons."

"Oh, that's right, thank you."

The strange man wearing a birdcage bowed slightly and bent down.

Then, just like when he appeared, with the precise steps of clockwork, step by step, he disappeared into the mist of Welsh night.

After the man left for nearly 20 minutes, Basil finally recovered from the feeling of spring breeze, and he slowly frowned: "What kind of strange dress is that?"

"Who knows," Vastor looked at the place where the man disappeared with a smile on his face: "It's probably a wizard from another country. These foreigners really have strange personalities."

"Will there be any problem."

Basil muttered to himself, always feeling as if he had forgotten something.

crackling.

There was a soft crackling sound in the mist, followed by a noisy sound.

"This way! Honey!"

"Oh, damn it, it's a swamp, my shoes!"

"I told you to be careful!"

"Hurry up, don't worry about the shoes, go to sign, while there are few people, let's find a good seat!"

"Haha, yes, grab the position and grab the position!"

Basil recovered from his thoughts, and with a happy voice, he saw a group of short figures rushing out of the mist, holding lanterns hand in hand, they looked like the seven dwarfs in fairy tales .

Vast frowned: "Irish Leprechaun."

As soon as the words fell, one of the leprechauns in the lead jumped up, and threw an old soda can to Basil, then grabbed the parchment and quill from Basil's hand, and brushed the flamboyant phoenix on it. He wrote down a long list of names, and said with a smile while writing, "Your director drank too much, haha, he bet on Bulgaria to win, I really hope he won't regret it tomorrow, hahahaha!"

After laughing, he threw the messy signed parchment to Basil, and they held hands again, happily jumping into the mist.

After being tossed about by these leprechauns, Basil forgot everything. Vast began to scold again: "The director personally participated in the gambling, what the hell does he think about doing such a thing, I bet Bagman won't be able to work in this position for a few years!"

Basil no longer wanted to pay attention to his companion's complaints, because there was another crackling sound in the distance, and another group of people were teleported here from an unknown place through the Portkey.

The busy work started in the early hours of the morning, and people were constantly being sent here from all over the world. Each of them spoke various accents, asked questions, signed, and returned the door keys. The big box containing the door keys has been changed one after another.

Until five o'clock in the morning, the sky was getting brighter. Only then did the flow of visiting people thin out a lot. At this time, Basil was already dizzy from exhaustion, and Vast beside him was even more gloomy, and he didn't even have the energy to scold his boss.

I wish I hadn't been so unlucky in the future, Basil thought, being on duty at a time like this.

crackling.

Accompanied by the sound of the door key falling to the ground.

Someone lamented and complained: "Hey, I'm old, I'm old, I really can't use the door key anymore, every time I use it, it will turn to nausea."

"Who told you to come, old man? I can do it by myself."

"Come on, that's Crouch! Do you really think you can meet him without my help? Ahem. Besides, it's wrong to want to watch the Quidditch World Cup. You've come here all the time. Can you miss this kind of game?"

"Okay, shut up." A young voice said impatiently: "Everyone is very weak, if you want to leave, hurry up! The sun is out."

Basil and Vast stood up straight.

This time, two figures came out of the mist, one tall and one short. After getting closer, Basil realized that they were a young man and an old man.

The tall boy had a strange appearance. He was about 1.78 meters tall, with a bald head, a silver earring inlaid on his ear, and a dim golden light shining in his eyes in the morning sun. He had a very heroic personality.

More conspicuous, of course, was his suit.

He was wearing a dark blue wizard robe, with a double-layer shawl on his shoulders, inlaid with silver eagle patterns, and the tail of the robe was divided into three branches, which looked like the tail feathers of some kind of bird, very gorgeous. At first glance, it was a member of an ancient wizard family.

In contrast, the old man beside him looked much shabby. He was wearing an old robe and a hood, with a hunched waist, tremblingly supporting the young man, as if he would die on the ground in a second.

Because of the boy's peculiar and noble appearance, Basil cheered up. Although the Ministry of Magic expressly forbids wearing wizard clothes to watch the competition, it doesn't mean that all wizards must abide by the rules. Those who can break the rules are often more worthy. care.

"Hello." Basil stepped forward.

The trembling old man took a step forward, "Hi, hello, my name is Ali Bashir, this, this is my grandson, Horva Bashir."

"Ali Bashir, Horwa Bashir."

Basil flipped through the list, "Oh, go ahead, the first field, turn left one hundred meters away."

"Thank you," the old man said with a polite smile, "Thank you for your hard work." After finishing speaking, he fell into a sluggish state like dementia.

The bald boy covered his brows with one hand to block the sun, and with the other he handed Basil a key to a football gate full of holes: "Is this the entrance to the Quidditch World Cup?"

"The entrance is inside. We are responsible for recovering the door keys and signing." Basil took over the battered football and threw it into the box: "Oh, of course, if you are guests directly invited by the Ministry of Magic, Then there is no need to sign."

The bald boy nodded, "We're looking for Barty Crouch. He invited us here. Excuse me, how should we go?"

"That's it."

Basil looked straight, and looked for it on the parchment list, "Barty Crouch. Barty Crouch. Oh, I found it. Go forward for about a half mile, at the very front the third venue."

"Thanks."

The bald boy covered the sun and bowed politely to him. Then he pulled the dying old man next to him: "Let's go, don't be in a daze!"

The old man reacted and complained: "You should feel sorry for me, Horva, I am old and need enough sleep, I can't toss like you."

"Stop coming," the boy said lazily, "you won't die even if I die."

"Crow's mouth, you want me to die so much?"

"Hmph, in the East, there is an old saying, I don't know if you've heard it, it's called—to be old and not die is to be a thief."

"you!"

Accompanied by the old man's angry muttering.

The two figures, one old and one young, also disappeared into the early morning mist.

Basil became confused, he turned his head to look at Vaster: "Is that the grandson's attitude towards grandpa?"

Wast stared at his tired eyes, and shrugged indifferently: "Maybe foreigners have this kind of virtue."

The strange grandpa and grandson just left.

There was another crackling sound in the distance, this time it was a large group of people.

"Five:07, from Ferret Mountain." Wast said weakly.

Then, a large group of people rushed out of the morning mist, led by a red-haired man in golf clothes and old jeans. The pants were too big for him. He used a wide cowhide Tie it up.

"Good morning, Basil."

The red-haired man said, picked up a boot on the ground, and handed it to Basil.

Basil took the boots a little tiredly, and threw them into the trash can: "Hi, Arthur, you're not on duty, huh? Some people are really lucky...We'll stay here all night...you'd better let Come on, there's a big crowd coming from the Black Forest at a quarter past five.

Wait a minute, I'll find out where your camp is... Weasley... Weasley..."

Basil searched on the parchment list, "Walk about a quarter of a mile, the first field ahead is. The camp manager is Mr. Roberts. Diggory... you are in the second field... look for Pei Mister En."

"Thank you, Basil," said Arthur Weasley.

He beckoned behind him, a large group of boys and a few girls walked past them laughing and laughing, two identical red-haired twins even stuck out their tongues playfully at the exhausted Basil.

After they all left, Vastor said numbly:

"It's really lively."

"Who says no,"

Basil rubbed his eyes wearily, "I really hope these people don't make any trouble."