Of Constellations → 𝘥. 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺

ix. silas nott

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chapter nine

silas nott

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Third Year

Tens of thousands of tents stretched along the moorland in every direction. It was a patchwork quilt of shelters and flags and people wandering through the congested network of seams. As Luna and I gazed across the expanse, I struggled to imagine what the fields looked like before—the browning, late summer grasses beneath people's feet, the heather and gorse and whatever other intrepid flora grew in the land's acidic soil.

The only evidence of nature were patches of yellowing-green, purple, and gold blinking into existence in places where the crowd fleetingly thinned.

Dad and I had not been planning on going to the Quidditch World Cup, but Luna owled me in early July, asking us to join her and her father. Dad, who had a high-up position within his department at the Ministry, easily secured the two of us good last-minute tickets.

We had only just arrived, and I was still stunned that the Ministry managed to pull off such a logistical feat, organizing enough area and a stadium big enough to hold one hundred thousand people. All while hiding it from the Muggles.

The stadium, a monolithic construction reminiscent of the Colosseum though twice as big, stood at the top of the area's tallest hill. Luna and I had spent a good five minutes staring at it, mesmerized. 

"Let's buy some merchandise so we can show our support for our team! I'm rooting for Ireland, how about you?" Luna asked me cheerily. Our families had neighboring tents, halfway up on a gently sloping hill, though we were much closer to the stadium than some others. Behind us, the tents appeared to stretch all the way to the horizon.

"Ireland," I said and we started down the hill to the commercial district of the makeshift city. Where we were, a warm, droning breeze picked up my hair and dried out my eyes, but as we leveled out on the valley, the tents on the hills cut the winds almost completely.

I'd never been one for sports. Even at Hogwarts, if not for Luna's honorable commitment to supporting the Ravenclaw Quidditch team (or Gryffindor's if they weren't playing against Ravenclaw), I probably wouldn't have even attended any of the games.

Ireland or Bulgaria? I couldn't care less, but I figured it'd be a lot more fun to cheer for Ireland along with Luna. Again, the only thing that broke through her serene demeanor was Quidditch.

We pushed through the crowd to a stand decked out in green, white, and orange. Luna put a leprechaun hat on, necklaces with beads in Irish colors, and picked out some jars of face paint. I got a little Irish flag to wave and figured Luna could put some green stripes on my face later.

"Luna! Mars!" someone said from behind us just as I was paying the vendor. Luna and I turned around to see red-haired, bright-eyed Ginny Weasley standing there, her family (plus Harry Potter and Hermione Granger) shopping at a nearby stand.

"Hey, Ginny," I said at the same time Luna said, "Hello, Ginny!"

Luna and I were still outsiders who kept to themselves amongst our year. Though, there were still a few people who we were friendly with and spoke to during classes. Ginny was one of those people. Especially during Herbology, where she stood across from us on the other side of the long working benches. I liked her a lot—she was the only person other than myself who would reprimand people for calling Luna 'Loony.' She was braver than me (the nature of a Gryffindor) and would even hex people for it sometimes.