Y4 ~ Quidditch World Cup

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Thousands of tents stretched toward the cliff's edge, their peaks swaying slightly in the breeze, colors and shapes clashing vibrantly under the bright sky. The campgrounds bustled like a small village, tents decorated in the colors and symbols of magical families from every corner of the wizarding world. There was an excited hum in the air, a tapestry of accents blending into one joyful, roaring crowd as vendors shouted, kids laughed, and bursts of magical light floated up here and there.

Y/N's gaze flitted over the scene, wide-eyed. She could feel the pulse of the crowd around her, their energy making her heart race with excitement. She glanced at Harry beside her, sharing a look of awe before they scrambled to keep up with the Weasleys, who had surged ahead in the crowd. They dodged groups of laughing witches and wizards, sometimes brushing shoulders with people they'd never seen before. The crowd was thick, and for a moment, she and Harry were nearly swept away from the rest.

"Here it is! Our tent!" Mr. Weasley called out, stopping in front of a small, battered tent that looked as though it would hardly fit one wizard, let alone all of them. He held open the flap with a proud grin.

Y/N shot Harry a bemused look, a hint of nervous laughter escaping her. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" she murmured, glancing between Harry and the minuscule tent.

Harry scratched his head, a skeptical smile creeping across his face. "Er...are you sure we'll all fit?" he asked hesitantly, unable to imagine squeezing into something that looked barely big enough for Hagrid's foot.

Mr. Weasley chuckled heartily, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, don't worry, Harry! It might be a bit snug, but there's room enough for everyone, you'll see!" He gave a knowing wink before turning to the Diggorys, who were laughing at the scene.

"Well, thanks for walking with us, Amos," Mr. Weasley continued warmly. "We'll be seeing you at the match, I hope? Or at the celebrations after?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Arthur," Amos Diggory chuckled, clapping Mr. Weasley on the shoulder. "Looking forward to it! And Y/N, it was a pleasure." As he finished, Amos gave his son a playful nudge, accompanied by a subtle wink that spoke volumes, as if to say, I know you fancy the girl—go after her, tiger. Cedric's cheeks reddened slightly, but he stepped forward without missing a beat, his gray eyes warm as they met Y/N's.

"Until we meet again," he murmured, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips in a smooth, confident motion. The kiss was soft but deliberate, his gaze never leaving hers, and she felt a rush of warmth rise to her cheeks. Her cheeks flushing as her gaze dropped to the ground, her lips forming a quiet, flustered "bye."

Cedric's smirk widened, satisfied with her reaction, before he followed his father into the crowd. Hermione, who had been watching the whole exchange with barely contained excitement, grinned and nudged Y/N with a squeal. "Did you see the way he looked at you?" she whispered, eyes alight. Grabbing Y/N's hand, she pulled her inside the tent with a giggle, leaving Harry rolling his eyes as he trudged in behind them.

Harry hesitated at the entrance, peering into the dim, seemingly cramped space. Mr. Weasley stuck his head back out, waving him in with a grin. "Come on, Harry, don't be shy. Take a look—you'll be pleasantly surprised!"

Harry ducked under the tent flap, expecting cramped quarters and maybe a pile of blankets on the floor. Instead, as he stepped inside, his jaw dropped. The tent's interior sprawled out before him in a cozy three-room flat, complete with well-worn armchairs, plush sofas, and a fireplace crackling softly in one corner. It was warm and inviting, with a faint scent of woodsmoke and freshly baked bread lingering in the air. The entire place was magicked to be at least ten times its exterior size, making it feel like a hidden haven away from the lively chaos outside.

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