𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹, draco malfoy

˗ˋ 40

CHAPTER FOURTY
✧
-: fourth year :-

── IN WHICH THE TENT IS PITCHED 

. . .

With their excitement, the tiredness wore off like it was nothing, and the quarter of a mile between their destination and the small patch of misty moor that they took the portkey to followed that. 

It took about twenty minutes after they had left Basil and his colleague behind to reach the campsite. However, what they were greeted with first seemed odd - a cottage and a gate swam into view through the mist, and beyond that, the group could only 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.

Prompted by Mr Weasley, they said their goodbyes to the Diggorys as the father and son trekked back out into the mist. Then, Arthur pulled his children towards the door of the cottage, guiding Marlie and Harry to the front.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents and from just a glance, it was ever so obvious he the only real Muggle for several acres, no matter how hard wizards tried to look like them. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" Mr Weasley greeted brightly. 

"Morning," said the Muggle. 

"Would you be Mr Roberts?" 

"Aye, I would," Mr Roberts nodded sharply, eyes drifting over the crowd of children behind the man. "And who're you?"

"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?" 

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

"That's it." Mr Weasley confirmed. 

"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr Roberts loked expectant.

"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned the Potter twins closer towards him. "Help me, you two," He muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. 

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

"A twenty." Harry corrected him in an undertone.

"Mr Roberts? How much is it for the night? For both tents?" Marlie turned towards Mr Roberts. He told her and the girl held out her hands, Mr Weasley handing her the notes.

 "Ah yes, so it is... I don't know, these little bits of paper..." Mr Weasley happily gave it up to her, but watched keenly over her shoulder as she counted it out, passing them back to him.

"You foreign?" Mr Roberts asked whilst Mr Weasley returned with the correct notes pulled together by Marlie.

"Foreign?" repeated Mr Weasley, looking puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," Mr Roberts replied, eyes narrowing as he stared at Mr Weasley. His suspicion was rather evident and Mr Weasley's neck was turning red. Marlie was on the edge of beginning to talk to Ron in garbled Spanish she had learnt through the classes at muggle primary school. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago." Mr Roberts continued.