They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty s.p.a.ce, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read DIGGORY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Dad happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're 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. . . . Here, Ryan, where do you reckon we should start?" "Probably with the poles" Ryan in his previous life loved to watch man vs wild and had even had a small survival kit in the magical world it was all so much easier stuff a home into a magically expanded trunk then he could just f.u.c.k off to Fiji if he got tired of people. he and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Dad was more of a hindrance than a help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. n.o.body looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, Ryan thought.

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly Bigger than the boys', the group set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans. "dunno why we don't just use aguamenti charms" muttered Ryan.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Ryan how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; They had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the gra.s.s, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't – touch – Daddy's – wand – yecchh!"

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy gra.s.s. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past.

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSt.i.tUTE. "Er – is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Tonks

It wasn't just Tonk's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open.I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.

"Let's go and have a look," said Ryan, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag – white, green, and red – was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.Krum," said Harry quietly.

"What?" said Hermione.

"Krum!" said Harry. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krum's blinking and scowling at them. There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field.Right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious -"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them. "

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks. " The girls burst out into giggles