A Hogwarts Legend: Chaos Begins [4] (SLOW UPDATES)

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight - "Everyone's a little bit gay."

Clutching our purchases, Mr Weasley in the lead, we all hurry into the wood, following the lantern-lit trial. We can hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement is highly infectious; I can't stop grinning. We walk through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last we emerge on the other side, and find ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though I can see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the pitch, I can tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," says Mr Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on my face. "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," he adds fondly, leading the way towards the nearest entrance, which is already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Elinor!" A voice yells from behind us and both Elinor and I turn around.

A girl, who looks about the same age as us, is pushing her way through the crowd, making her way towards us.

"Hey Victoria," Elinor grins. "Emily, this is Jasper's friend, Victoria. Victoria, this is Emily.

"Hi," I smile and she grins back.

"I just wanted to say hi, my family is all the way back there," she gestures in the distance, "I don't really like Quidditch. I'm only here because I didn't have to pay."

"Me," Elinor whispers, and I smack her.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I'm going to go back to my food now. And my family."

She waves and disappears again.

"Can I go with her?" I ask, and this time, Elinor smacks me.

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

The stairs into the stadium are carpeted in rich purple. We clamber upwards with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filters away through doors into the stands to our left and right. Our party keeps climbing, and at last we reach the top of the staircase, and find ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goalposts. About twenty or so purple-and-gilt chairs stand in two rows here, and as I'm filing into the fronts seats with the Weasley, I look down upon a scene the like of which I can never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards are taking their places in the seats which rise in levels around the long oval pitch. Everything is suffused with a mysterious golden light that seems to come from the stadium itself. The pitch looks smooth as velvet from our lofty position. At either end of the pitch stands three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite us, almost at my eye level, is a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing keeps dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand is scrawling upon it and then wiping it off again; watching it, I see that it's flashing advertisements across the pitch.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable and with In-built Anti-Burglar Buzzer ... Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover: No Pain, No Stain! ... Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade ...

I tear my eyes away from the sign and look over my shoulder to see who else is sharing the box with us. So far it's empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs are so short they stick out in front of it on the chair, is wearing a tea-towel draped like a toga, and it has its face hidden in its hands. A house-elf.