SuperPotterLock- The Goblet of Fire

Bagman and Crouch

Dean laughed loudly as he hauled Sam to his feet. 'Graceful,' he said.

'Shut up, Dean,' Sam said grumpily, adjusting his backpack.

John got up and looked around. They appeared to have arrived on a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch and the other a thick roll of parchment. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly; the man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length boots; his colleague, a kilt and poncho.

'Morning, Basil,' said Mr Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys behind him.

'Hello, there, Arthur,' said Basil wearily. 'Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... we've been here all night... you'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite... Weasley... Weasley...' He consulted his parchment list. 'Yes, here we are. Weasley, Holmes and Winchester, about a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr Roberts. Diggory... second field... ask for Mr Payne.'

'Thanks, Basil,' said Mr Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

They set of across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small, stone cottage swam into view. Beyond it, they could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon. They said goodbye to the Diggorys, and approached the cottage door.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

'Morning!' Mr Weasley said brightly.

'Morning,' said the man who appeared to be the only Muggle around the campsite.

'Would you be Mr Roberts?'

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

'Weasley, Holmes and Winchester – four tents booked a couple of days ago?'

'Aye,' said Mr Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. 'You've got a space up by the woods there. Just the one night?'

'That's it,' said Mr Weasley.

'You'll be paying now, then?'

'Ah – right – certainly –' Mr Weasley retreated a short distance from the cottage. 'Help me, Dean,' he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart.

'Uh, I'm not so great with the pounds,' said Dean. 'Dollars are more my speed.'

'Here,' said John, stepping forward, 'let me help.'

'So this one's a – a – a ten? Ah, yes, I see the little number on it now... so this is a five?'

'A twenty,' John corrected gently.

'Ah, yes, so it is... I don't know these little bits of paper...'

'You foreign?' said Mr Roberts, as Mr Weasley returned with the correct notes.

'Foreign?' repeated Mr Weasley, confused.

'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 earlier.'

'Did you really?' Mr Weasley said nervously.

Mr Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change. 'Never been this crowded,' he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field. 'Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up...'