Aila Prewett is the only daughter of Fabian Prewett, born to him by the Veela during the First Wizarding War. Both her parents were killed by Voldemort, leaving her in the care of the Weasleys.
As the Triwizard Tournament is held once again, Aila's...
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Clutching their purchases, Arthur in the lead, they all hurried into the woods, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious. They walked through the woods 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 they could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field.
“Seats only a hundred thousand,” Aila said, spotting the awestruck look on Harry’s face. “Not the biggest stadium in the Wizarding World, but definitely one of the most impressive looking ones.”
“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 gotten anywhere near here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again…bless them,” Arthur added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.
“Prime seats!” the Ministry witch at the entrance said 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 upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Arthur’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 goalposts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here. Aila settled into the first row beside Bill.
A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Aila’s eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Aila saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.
Aila tore her eyes away from the screen before turning to Bill. “So…what’s happening at Hogwarts this year?”
Bill looked up from his velvet-covered, tasselled program and said, “I don’t–“
“But you do,” Aila interrupted. She gave him her best puppy eyes. “Please, Billy? I’ll send you lots of snacks from Hogsmade!”
Bill sighed. How could he ever say no to his baby cousin? He lowered his head and said, “Well, the Ministry is holding the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts this year but only those aged seventeen and above are allowed to enter.”
