SuperPotterLock- The Goblet of Fire

The Quidditch World Cup

John walked beside Sherlock as they followed the lantern-lit trail. Despite already knowing the outcome of the match, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. The atmosphere of excitement was highly infectious, and soon all of them were chattering and joking loudly. They walked through the woods for about twenty minutes until they emerged in the shadow of the gigantic stadium. Though they could only see a fraction of the immense gold walls from where they were standing, they could tell that ten cathedrals could easily fit inside it.

There was a Ministry witch checking tickets and directing people at the entrances.

'Prime seats!' she said, checking the Weasleys' tickets. 'Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, as high as you can go.' She directed John and Sherlock the same way, then checked Dean, Sam and Castiel's tickets. 'Right, middle seats, row thirty-six- hold on, Winchester?' she said, digging in her pockets. 'I've got a note about this – hold on – yes. This says you've been requested in the Top Box, by the Minister – wow! Aren't you three lucky! Go on, same way as them, then.'

Sam's mouth dropped open, ecstatic about their upgrade. 'Let's go, Dean!' he yelled, running into the entrance.

'Sam, wait!' Dean called, chasing after Sam and dragging Cas with him.

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple and everything had a golden glow.

John found himself having to lead Sherlock the further up they went.

'I didn't realise the Top Box would be so high up,' Sherlock muttered as people around them filtered out into the stands.

'I don't know what else you thought it would be, being called the Top Box,' John said back, smirking slightly.

At last, they reached the very top and found themselves in a small box situated exactly half way between the goalposts. There were two rows of purple chairs, although a few extra ad been squeezed into one corner for the Winchesters and Castiel.

John looked around in awe. A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their seats below, seats that rose in levels around the oval pitch.

Sherlock, however, had his eyes fixed on the magical billboard that was floating across them. Gold letters kept writing themselves on the board, then wiping itself away, advertising different magical products, such as Mrs Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover.

'Come on, over here,' said John, taking Sherlock's hand and bringing him to his seat.

Sherlock relaxed a little once sat down, and managed to look around. To his great surprise, there was a house-elf sitting behind them.

'Dobby?' said Harry, also noticing the elf.

But it was not Dobby.

'Did sir just call me Dobby?' the elf squeaked, hiding her face to block out the high view.

John turned around too and found his eyes being drawn to the empty seat beside her.

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'I just thought you were someone I knew.'

'But I knows Dobby too, sir!' squeaked the elf from between her fingers. 'My name is Winky, sir – and you, sir, you is surely Harry Potter?'

'Yeah, I am.'

'But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!'

'How is he?' said Harry. 'How's freedom suiting him?'

'Ah, sir,' said Winky, shaking her head. 'Ah, sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you is doing Dobby a favour, sir, when you is setting him free.'