𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋 ━ George Weasley

━ 𝟘𝟘𝟜. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐼𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ

💌🏹

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗. [ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɪʀɪsʜ ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The Quidditch World Cup
- Devon, England
( August 29th, 1994. )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓. Olympia had never attended something so momentum. Though Quidditch didn't matter much to her, still despite that, she bustled with excitement.

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, 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.

Olympia reached out and grabbed her elder bother Atlas's arm for comfort - crowds made her feel awfully uncomfortable.

They walked through the wooded area 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.

"It's huge!" Roared out Atlas.

"Seats a hundred thousand," replied Mr. Weasley.

"A hundred thousand?" Olympia exclaimed, she'd never been around so many people in the entirety of her sixteen years.

"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 got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again...bless them," Mr. Weasley added fondly, he always had a love for muggles. Be lead the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."