297 Chapter 19, the Disappearance of Silence

As night fell, Hoffa was awakened from meditation by some kind of excitement and frenzy. Even through the tent, he could feel the trembling and frenzy in the air. That is the expectation of thousands of wizards,

Open the curtain of the peacock tent.

Under the purple night, orange lights are everywhere.

Some wizards from abroad were naked to the waist, with boa constrictors coiled around their shoulders, and the magic wands in their hands sprayed out silver bands of light, floating in the air like branches.

Whenever they juggle light strips. The wizards onlookers applauded enthusiastically, and some fanatical Quidditch fans even held hands and danced around the wizards performing impromptu, shouting slogans of unknown meaning.

About ten meters away on the left hand side, there is a group of fire wizards. They hold small red pipes, inhale deeply with their mouths, and when they open their mouths again, they spit out flames like fire dragons.

The flames formed various shapes in the air, including zebras, reindeer, and goldfish. They twisted their bodies in the air, and disappeared after a moment of brilliance.

However, every time it is brilliant, it will bring cheers.

On the other side, a few peddlers descended from the sky pushing small carts, carrying trays full of strange and weird things. There are illuminated rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - and scream the players' names.

This reminded Hoffa of the light sticks and signs that fans would hold up when they went to idol concerts in the future. Although it was cheap, it was very spectacular when there were a lot of people.

It was night at this moment, and he had regained his full strength, and the thought of looking for Harry came to his mind again, but when he looked around, he felt that he had taken it for granted. There are so many people, and the flags are flying. Finding one wizard out of a hundred thousand is undoubtedly looking for a needle in a haystack.

At this time, an unknown Quidditch fan in the distance opened the beer and sprayed it everywhere. His action was like knocking down dominoes. Not to be outdone, the men who were splashed with beer shook their beers one after another and sprayed each other, foaming everywhere.

The person who was spilled by the beer not only did not hide, but laughed loudly. Only the peddlers who were doing business reluctantly put up umbrellas on the carts, and it seemed that they were already prepared.

Perhaps happiness can be contagious. Looking at these carnival wizards, Hoffa couldn't help but feel better. He grinned, and the beer liquid falling from the air turned into flying birds before touching his collar. Butterflies, flying around.

Suddenly, hula la, a group of people surrounded him.

"What kind of spell is that, another one, little brother!"

A man who had just finished drinking, smelled of alcohol, and a man wrapped in a shawl from the Irish national team hooked his shoulders.

"That's Transfiguration. It seems that the school didn't teach it well, and it's a curse!" a knowledgeable person mocked.

"Haha," the drinking man laughed rudely: "Whatever the magic is, it's so pretty, let's have another one."

Several girls from Beauxbatons also stopped and stood in the distance, looking at Hoffa wrapped in butterflies, whispering to each other, covering their mouths and laughing.

Hoffa shook his head with a smile, and rejected the passerby's request. He felt that he had something to do at night and didn't want to attract too much attention.

But at this time, several children from the tent next door came out from the crowd and reached out to catch the butterflies around him. The butterfly flew so fast that they didn't catch it, so they had to grab Hoffa's robe.

"Big brother, change again."

"Can you turn into candy?"

Hoffa thought for a while, bent down, smiled and asked the little girl holding his robe, "Are you really coming?"

The little girl wearing a unicorn headgear nodded vigorously. Hoffa raised the corner of his mouth, caught a flying colorful butterfly, and waved the butterfly in front of the little girl. The butterfly turned into a small blowpipe in his hand. He held the blowpipe in his mouth, and suddenly, thousands of colorful bubbles flew out of his mouth, and those bubbles went straight into the sky.

"I want bubbles, I want bubbles"

The little friend beneath him jumped up, trying to catch the air bubbles.

Hoffa smiled, took off the blowpipe in his mouth, turned it into a transparent bubble, bent down and handed it to the little girl wearing a unicorn headgear, and winked at his playful single eye.

The little girl laughed, and crushed the bubbles with her companions.

As a result, all the bubbles in the sky crackled and roared at the same time, turning into colorful fireworks, which bloomed strangely and competed with each other, illuminating everyone's faces, beautifully.

The crowd screamed and cheered in shock, pointing to the sky.

Several little wizards holding Hoffa's robes looked at the sky stupidly, their mouths were wide open, and longing was shining in their eyes. Then, the fireworks fell from the sky and turned into countless colorful candies.

The woman laughs, holds her head, and screams to avoid the candy. The children rushed to the ground and scrambled for candies.

"Really amazing Transfiguration."

A soft sigh came from behind, Hoffa turned around and saw Nicole Flamel standing behind him, and said with great emotion, "Even if Merlin is alive, it's nothing more than that."

"Who knows how to juggle, it's all fake." Hoffa shrugged: "Didn't this deceive you?"

Before the crowd who picked up the candy on the ground had time to eat it, the candy turned into the drink from the beginning and flowed away from their hands, and they all sighed. When they looked back to find the magical wizard, he had disappeared into the crowd.

At this time, somewhere in the distance of the woods came the sound of a low-pitched gong, and immediately, thousands of red and green lanterns bloomed on the trees, illuminating the way to the arena.

The crowd immediately forgot about the fake candy and yelled at each other. Like a river pouring into the sea, they all flocked to the magnificent Quidditch field.

At the same time, at the edge of the swamp, the staff of the Department of Sports and Sports of the Ministry of Magic sat in twos and threes on the rocky beach in the swamp after finishing their day's work, either smoking and chatting, or lighting a bonfire and preparing food.

Basil was also one of them. When he took out a few frozen sausages from his luggage, countless fireworks exploded in the sky.

"I'm really convinced, even the fireworks are set off, are you afraid that Muggles won't notice?"

A tin bucket filled with water was placed heavily beside the bonfire. Basil looked up and found that the person who complained was his colleague, Waster.

I saw him sitting by the campfire, took off his long rubber shoes, and looked at the fireworks in the distance with a dissatisfied expression.

"Before, we were repeatedly complaining about the Muggle secrecy regulations. Huh, it's good now. I guess that idiot Ludo Bagman is taking the lead in setting off the fireworks."

Basil handed him a grilled sausage, sat in front of the bonfire without raising his head, "You don't care about them, who cares about the Muggle secrecy regulations at this time, eat it, eat it, and say it after eating Maybe we’ll still be able to make it to the game.”

"Why can't I control it? The director of the Sports Department is a human being, and I am also a human being. He is a wizard, and I am also a wizard."

Gast scooped out a pot of water from the bucket, put it on the campfire and started to burn it.

"You don't have the passion to explain the game. Wait, don't take the water from the swamp directly. It's not clean."

Basil looked at the kettle on the campfire and muttered.

"What's the difference if it's all water? It's really weird."

After finishing speaking, he turned on the kettle indifferently, added some tea into it, and stretched his waist: "Go tonight, I won't go."

"You don't like watching Quidditch?"

Basil looked at Vaster with eyes like a monster.

"Love, of course love."

Vast rolled his eyes, and took a sip of tea happily: "If I have enough wine and food, lie comfortably on a chair, and let the game mobilize my emotions, I am naturally willing. But after a long day, I still want to watch The game, sick. I plan to go directly to sleep in the tent after eating, and then go back to watch the broadcast tomorrow."

Basil was stunned for a moment, feeling that what his colleague said was also reasonable. So he looked at the other colleagues who were chatting and spanking, "Charlie, are you going?"

"No."

The colleague who sat on the rock and smoked shrugged, "I'm a descendant of Muggles, and I like football."

"What about you, Sona?"

He asked another colleague who was tinkling to build a tent.

The colleague ignored him, but mechanically knocked nails on the stone flood beach to prepare a place to sleep at night.

Basil, who was making fun of himself, scratched his head, feeling that his colleagues were a little weird.

A cold wind blows.

Basil shivered and tightened his clothes, "Don't you feel a little cold?"

"It's cold, maybe a little bit, maybe it's getting late."

Gast closed his eyes and answered.

"No. I think. It's too cold."

Basil clutched his lower abdomen and frowned, "It's obviously summer."

No one answered his words, and he was the only one who felt cold.

The two ate quietly by the fire for a while. At this moment, Gast let go of the sausage, closed his eyes and stood up, his face pale.

"I suddenly want to sleep, go and watch the game by yourself after eating." He stammered.

"Hey, you really don't want to go!?"

Basil said.

His colleague Vast didn't answer him, he turned around mechanically, opened the curtain of the tent, and entered the tent.

Basil was a little puzzled. At this moment, there was a deep and deep sound of gongs in the distance, and the final of the Quidditch World Cup began. He quickly swallowed the sausage in two bites, stood up, and walked in the direction of the World Cup.

But when he walked through the entrance with the banner, he couldn't help but think of his colleagues again. This is the Quidditch World Cup finals, why didn't any of them come.

After thinking about it, he decided to go back and persuade him again.

In the night, he returned to the foggy Shimantan. His colleagues still smoked, cooked, and pitched tents, but they didn't talk to each other.

"Sona, are you going to watch the final?"

When he came to the colleague who had set up the tent, he saw him clanging the nails. The nails were obviously sunk into the rocks, but he didn't stop.

"Sona!?"

He didn't feel right, so he bent over to have a look.

The colleague closed his eyes, raised the hammer numbly, dropped it, raised the hammer, dropped it, and seemed to be asleep.

hiss.!

Basil took a deep breath, the ominous and weird omens were rising like blood pressure, he suddenly pulled out his wand and looked around, only to find that his smoking colleague had smoked up his buttocks without even realizing it, and the sausages were grilling by the campfire My friend has burnt the sausage. A hazy mist drifted across their faces, and each of them had their eyes closed.

"Hello?"

He called tentatively, but no one answered.

Cold sweat dripped down, his Adam's apple moved up and down, and he opened the curtain of Gast's tent.

I saw my companion in a tweed suit standing there, nodding his head non-stop.

"Wast?"

He called out tentatively.

No one answered.

He walked up to his colleague and found that he also had his eyes closed and his head was twitching like a student dozing off in class.

"Hey, Vastor, what's the matter with you? Talk!"

He grabbed his companion by the shoulder and shook it vigorously.

Just in a blink of an eye, Gast in front of him was like a deflated rubber ball, and his whole body softened in an instant, as if his colleague was not a flesh and blood body, but an inflated rubber man.

"ah!!"

This scene made Basil scream like crazy, and he couldn't stand the strange thing any longer, and he rushed out of the tent.

As soon as he got out of the tent, he petrified in place.

Outside the tent, in the mist of the swamp, I don’t know when there are a large number of men in black military uniforms, each of them has a strange birdcage on their head, holding a torch in their hand, standing silently in the swamp at night The ground is like a sculpture.

The bone-piercing cold wind blew out from behind the cage-headed men, blowing on the people, those sleepwalking colleagues' bodies, like fragments, fell off from the skeleton, and turned into balls of rolling dust before landing.

"Ah, he-he-he-they're off!"

In the distance, on the Quidditch pitch, the game had already started, and the host Ludo Bagman's screams were clearly visible, "This is Mallette! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Pass to Mallette again! Troy! Levsky! Moran!"

At the edge of the dark swamp, a few soldiers holding torches and wearing birdcage heads stood up silently, lowered their torches, and lit the tent by the swamp.

Suddenly, the flames shot up into the sky.

Basil turned his head and ran away without saying a word.