Infinite Magic (Male Reader x Harry Potter)

Tailgating

We set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist.  After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view.  Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.  We said good bye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door.  A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres.  When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

Arthur: Morning!

???: Morning.

Arthur: Would you be Mr Roberts?

Roberts: Aye, I would.  And who're you?

Arthur: Weasley.  Two tents, booked a couple of days ago?

Roberts: Aye.  You've got a space up by the wood there.  Just the one night?

Arthur: That's it.

Roberts: You'll be paying now, then?

Arthur: Ah, right... certainly.

He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him.  The two seemed to be trying to sort out muggle money.  Mr Roberts stared at them.

Roberts: You foreign?

Arthur: Foreign?

Roberts: You're not the first one who's had trouble with money.  I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago.

Arthur: Did you really?

Mr Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

Roberts: Never been this crowded.  Hundreds of pre-bookings.  People usually just turn up...

Arthur: Is that right?

Roberts: Aye.  People from all over.  Loads of foreigners.  And not just foreigners.  Weirdos, you know?  There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho.  They all seem to know each other.  Like a big party.

At that moment, a wizard appeared out of thin air next to Mr Roberts's front door.

Wizard: Obliviate!

Instantly, Mr Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face.  I recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.

Roberts: A map of the campsite for you.  And your change.

Arthur: Thanks very much.

The wizard accompanied us toward the gate to the campsite.  He looked exhausted.  His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes.  Once out of earshot of Mr Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley.

Wizard: Been having a lot of trouble with him.  Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy.  And Ludo Bagman's not helping.  Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security.  Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over.  See you later, Arthur.

He Disapparated.

YN: I thought Mr Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports.  He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?

Arthur: He should, but Ludo's always been a bit... well... lax about security.  You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the sports department though.  He played Quidditch for England himself, you know.  And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had.