A Summoner in the Wizarding World

On the way to the assigned spot, the Weasleys and I were joined by Amos Diggory and his sparkly vampire Cedric Diggory, the former seemingly thrilled at the fact that his son has won against the famous Harry Potter in a school Quidditch match and could not stop yapping about how proud he was.

As we all appeared holding the deactivated Portkey, we were greeted by the desolate foggy moor, immersed in uncanny silence. The Weasleys and I trekked through the suspiciously well=trodden path towards our camping spot, following Mr Weasley.

After a while, we came across a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed unconvincingly as Muggles - the first man wore a tweed suit with short galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho. 

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the Portkey and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box holding used ones - an old newspaper, empty drinks cans, and a punctured football. 

"Hello there, Arthur," replied Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... We've been here all night... You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite... Weasley... Weasley..." He glanced at his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's Mr. Roberts. Diggory. . . second field. . . ask for Mr. Payne. "

Thanking the tired organizers, we strolled deeper towards a clearing to meet a middle-aged Muggle standing in front of a stone cottage. His vacant expression and disoriented demeanor indicated the frequent use of Confundus due to the sheer number of wizards coming to watch the Quidditch World Cup.

"Hello! I'm Arthur Weasley, We had two tents, booked a few days ago?" Mr. Weasley asked politely.

The man, presumably Mr Roberts, blinked, looking at us with a bemused expression before affirming: "Aye, you've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

With a nod from Mr Weasley and the required change, he led us to a spacious area where our tent could be set up.

"This is your spot, here's a map of the campsite. Have a good time," Mr Roberts said, handling us said map before ambling away. In the middle of the empty field, a small sign had been hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY. 

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily, looking around. "We're just on the other side of the wood there, as close as we could be. " He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders.

"Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult... Muggles do it all the time..." Mr Weasley turned to me. "Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Without Hermione, working out where the poles and pegs should go is quite troublesome. Mr Weasley was also more of a hindrance than a help, too overexcited when using the mallet that he left several bruises on his own hands. Fortunately, we finally managed to set up a pair of two-man tents. 

In fact, an entire house's worth of space, including fully-furnished personal rooms, a central living room

The inside of these tents were surprisingly spacious despite its shabby appearance. Each consisted of eight fully-furnished bedrooms, all equipped with comfortable beds and practical storage. The living room featured cozy seating arrangements, though unable to further magically extend to accommodate a larger gathering as any more would make the space unstable. A small kitchen, complete with enchanted appliances, allows for meal preparation.

As we settled in, Mr Weasley merely reminded that some of us would be sharing the rooms with someone else, considering there's ten people in total. As Fred and George chose to stay together and the two eldest, either myself and Ron or Hermione and GInny, who would come later, would have to pair up.

At dinner, the two girls showed up with food delivered from Mrs Weasley who's staying at the Burrow. The living room of the tent was aglow with the soft light of floating orbs as we all gathered for dinner, the night before the Quidditch World Cup. The aroma of Mrs. Weasley's freshly cooked food filled the air, emanating familiar warmth.

As we settled into our seats and load the plates, conversation naturally gravitated toward Quidditch. Ron, Fred, and George were engrossed in discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the Irish and Bulgarian teams.

"You see, Krum is an excellent Seeker, but Quidditch is a team sport and Ireland's got the best one in the world," George explained, pointing at the lineup in the program.

Mrs. Weasley, bustling about and ensuring everyone had enough to eat, chimed in, "Well, we're all in for a treat regardless. It's a real shame Britain got eliminated in preliminaries though."

"Percy told us that Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman organized the whole event," Hermione mentioned, passing a bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Yeah, Percy's real stoked to be working with Mr. Crouch, you know," Ron added, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Says the boss' got a lot on his plate, but Percy's helping him sort it out. He sure loves feeling important, Percy."

Meanwhile, seated between two ticking time bombs, Ginny and Hermione, I couldn't help but pity Percy's dedication to his job, especially since Mr. Crouch would soon be impersonated. Though much more so for myself, who received searching glances from Ginny and the look that screams I want answers.

"Speaking of Bagman, some say he's a bit too carefree for a Ministry official, don't you think," Fred interjected, raising an eyebrow. "Though his style does make things entertaining."

Mr. Weasley chimed in, "It's true, Bagman is quite unconventional, even back then as a Beater. But let's not forget, the Quidditch World Cup is a massive event, not even the only thing their department's preparing for and they've done an admirable job so far."

Amidst the cheer and optimism, seemingly no one could predict the disaster that would be unleashed the next day. The Dark Mark was, in my opinion, the moment of change for the entire Harry Potter series - it marks the transition from the cheerful tone to quite gloomy and serious, if anything.

As everyone got their fill and the conversation ceased, all of us split up to our rooms for the big day tomorrow. However, as soon as Ron starts snoring in mine, I slipped into the shadows again and sneaked out of the house, bringing a sleeping Hermione with me.