Harry Potter x Reader

Fourth Year - Beginning of the World Cup

"Harry,"
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Basically, a tiny moth flew into my house this morning and was flying around my five year old brother who panicked and jumped up, causing the little creature to fly below his arse and as he sat back down again..

He killed the moth with his arse and I was full on laughing cause he was crying as well.
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Third Person POV

Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor.

(Y/N) had fallen on her back as she lay flat on the ground, not bothering to get up. She looked up to see a hand held out, and expecting to be someone like the twins, or Ron, it wasn't. It was Cedric, who was grinning down at her. She smiled back at him as she took his hand, heaving herself upwards and stood beside him.

"Thanks." she told him, dusting herself off.

"Don't mention it." Cedric replied, smiling and then walked off.

Harry, who had intended on helping (Y/N) up, appeared to have seen everything and turned away, only to be met with Hermione's suspicious look which he turned even further away from, joining Ron.

In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a 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 beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.

"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. "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 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. They said good-bye to the Diggory's 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.

"Morning!" said Mr Weasley brightly.

"Morning," said the Muggle.

"Would you be Mr Roberts?"

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

"Weasley -- two 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 wood there. Just the one night?"