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Evening was approaching.
The setting sun dyed the horizon in shades of warm orange and deep purple, and smoke from dinner preparations began to drift above the campsite.
Led by George and Fred, followed by Ginny, Harry's trio, and Cedric and Cho Chang.
The group chatted and laughed as they wove through the tents, strolling toward the VIP area where Lynn and the others were staying.
The group stopped in front of Lynn's tent, and the twins exchanged a look.
"Surprise—!!"
One on the left and one on the right, they whipped open the tent flap with a "swish" and swaggered inside.
Inside the tent, Edgar, William, and Ollie were sitting around a long table covered with a clean oilcloth, intently threading various ingredients onto long, thin bamboo skewers.
Chunks of onion, slices of green pepper, mushrooms, marinated chicken and beef... a small pile of finished meat and vegetable skewers had already accumulated in front of them.
Startled by the twins' sudden outburst, all three of them jerked, and Edgar nearly poked his own hand with a skewer.
"Merlin's beard!" Edgar complained. "Couldn't you just—" He looked up at the group entering, his complaint cutting off as his eyes lit up. "Hey! It's you guys! Fantastic!"
Just then, Lynn emerged from the living area deeper inside the tent, carrying a large tray of prepared barbecue sauce.
Beside him, a sizable metal grill floated along next to Dodo.
Seeing the large crowd squeezing in, Lynn showed no surprise. He set the sauce tray on the table and clapped his hands.
"Oh, look who's here. Perfect timing. I bet... you haven't had dinner yet, right?"
Thus, the visitors who had originally intended just to drop by for a chat were inexplicably "conscripted" before they could even exchange many pleasantries.
Under the enthusiastic greeting of Edgar and the other two, the newcomers were ushered to the table, with skewers and ingredients thrust into their hands.
After a while, as the pile of finished skewers grew, Ron suddenly looked up from a heap of green pepper slices, a look of belated realization on his face.
He looked at the greasy skewer in his hand, then at his friends, who were likewise "toiling away," and asked a soul-searching question:
"No... wait! We're Wizards! Why aren't we using magic for this?"
The question made everyone pause their busy movements. They looked up one by one, feeling that Ron had a point.
Just then, Lynn's voice drifted over from the tent entrance:
"Because, according to Article 27, Third Amendment of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, underage Wizards are strictly forbidden from using magic outside of school. The Ministry's Trace is watching, and it's no joke."
Everyone: "???"
A brief silence followed.
Then, George and Fred were the first to lose it, bursting out laughing with a "pfft."
George pointed at Lynn. "Hahaha! Lynn! Are you serious? Look me in the eye! Tell me! What are you doing with that stick you're waving around?!"
Without turning back, Lynn continued to focus on brushing sauce and flipping the skewers. His movements were fluid, and his use of magic was practiced and natural.
Cedric looked at Lynn's "I can't hear you" expression, then at the ingredients piled on the table and the half-finished skewer in his hand, and couldn't help but laugh as well.
"He might... just simply want to give us something to do."
Lynn finally turned his head and gave Cedric a thumbs-up; everything was understood without words.
Everyone: "..."
Amidst looks of "condemnation," the skewering was completed quickly. Soon, the first batch of sizzling, oily skewers was freshly cooked.
"Alright, who wants the first one?"
"Me!"
"Give it to me!"
"I want that chicken wing!"
...Night fell completely, and the river of stars began to twinkle in the sky.
Having eaten and drunk their fill, the young people left the messy "battlefield" for the complaining but efficient Dodo to clean up.
They left the tent and blended into the increasingly lively night at the campsite.
As the night deepened, more and more Wizards appeared on the grounds, and the festive atmosphere heated up. The initially eclectic and personal tent decorations began to be replaced by more uniform "team" logos.
When the first flag bearing the Bulgarian National Team mascot and the words "Bulgaria! Bulgaria!" fluttered high atop a tent, it seemed to ignite a competitive fuse.
Other supporters were not to be outdone. The Irish team's shamrock flags, various homemade or purchased team scarves, and glowing posters of star players... appeared all over the campsite like mushrooms after rain.
The once-mixed campsite began to become "clearly divided."
Lynn's group stopped in front of a large magical fireworks display put on by several American Wizards.
The fireworks exploded in the sky, forming running Thunderbirds, circling rings of fire, and even a short Quidditch match animation, drawing rounds of applause.
Just then, a voice pierced through the booming fireworks and the noise of the crowd, coming from elsewhere:
"Po—tter—!!"
Well, there was no need to look back to know who it was.
Everyone looked toward the sound, their gaze stretching into the distance.
Standing in front of an extremely luxurious tent was Draco Malfoy. He wore a well-tailored dark green suit, and his hair was meticulously styled.
With his chin slightly raised, he was clearly raising a middle finger in Harry Potter's direction.
Edgar couldn't help but nudge Lynn with his elbow and whisper:
"Hey, Lynn, how do you think... he manages to accurately 'lock onto' Harry from so far away in such a huge crowd? What kind of eyesight is that?"
Lynn shook his head with an equally puzzled expression. "I don't know. At this distance, even if I wanted to find someone, I'd have to look carefully for a while. He's... like he's got radar installed."
The two exchanged a look, both feeling that Malfoy's obsession with "noticing" Harry was a bit of an uncanny talent.
Hearing the shout, Harry turned back and saw Draco's provocative gesture and expression. Not to be outdone, he returned the middle finger in Draco's direction before decisively turning back to watch the fireworks.
However, the activity over by Draco didn't end there.
The curtain of the luxurious tent was lifted again, and a large group of figures emerged.
Walking a bit further back was Lucius Malfoy, still dressed as usual, leaning on his snake-head cane.
Lucius first gave a disapproving glance at his son, who was still making faces at Harry, and whispered something—likely telling Draco to mind his image.
Then, he cast a casual glance in the direction Draco had been looking.
This glance happened to meet the eyes of Lynn, who was talking in low tones with Edgar.
Lucius's eyes widened slightly for a moment.
"Mr. Lynn?!"
Lynn: "..."
Seriously, do all the Malfoys have such sharp eyes? The son pinpoints Harry, and the father spots me in a crowd at a glance? Did this family spec their talent tree for "Max Dynamic Vision" and "Key Figure Search"?
Lucius Malfoy barely hesitated before tucking away his cane and striding through the crowd toward Lynn and the others.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Lynn spoke first, his tone flat. "What a coincidence. Is there something you need?"
Lucius's gaze quickly swept over the curious onlookers before he lowered his voice slightly:
"Good evening, Mr. Lynn. It is... quite a coincidence. However, since we've met, perhaps we could have a word in private? Certain matters might involve some business secrets."
"It's a bit too crowded and public here. How about we find a quieter place to chat for a few minutes? It won't take much of your time away from enjoying this beautiful evening."