As the match ended, a tide of spectators gathered outside the stadium and streamed back toward the campsite. Lantern light fell softly across the winding paths. Rough voices burst into song beneath the night sky, while excited leprechauns darted over the crowd, giggling as they went.
The twins spent the walk kicking themselves. If only they had taken Ludo Bagman's bet!
At last, the outlines of the tents came into view, but despite their exhaustion, no one seemed ready for bed. The campsite was still buzzing, so Mr. Weasley suggested they all have a glass of milk before turning in.
That led to a lively discussion of the match. Mr. Weasley and Charlie went back and forth over whether a collision on the pitch should have been called a foul, neither willing to give an inch. The argument grew spirited, but never lost its warmth.
Late into the night, Ginny fell asleep beside the small table and spilled her hot chocolate across the ground. Smiling, Mr. Weasley declared the debate over for now and urged everyone to get some rest. Hermione and Ginny slipped quietly into the neighboring tent, while Jerry, Harry, and the Weasley boys changed into comfortable pajamas and climbed into their beds.
Even at the far end of the campsite, the sounds of celebration and strange collisions still echoed through the night.
"Lucky I'm not on duty tonight," Mr. Weasley murmured sleepily. "Otherwise I'd have to persuade those excited Irish fans to stop celebrating. Just thinking about it gives me a headache."
Harry lay in the upper bunk above Ron, tossing and turning. He stared at the canvas roof. Whenever a leprechaun carrying a lantern flitted past and cast a fleeting glow across it, his thoughts drifted away.
Images rose one after another in his mind: he