Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

, Hogwarts, academic master becomes god

To be honest, Harry was used to people always staring at him curiously when they first met him.

At the same time, they were used to it, and they immediately turned their attention to the scar on his forehead.

Fortunately, Mr. Digory was very measured and only glanced at it before looking away.

"Of course, Ced talked about you."

Amos Point Diggory said, "He told us about his match against you last year... that you were a brave opponent, a true Gryffindor.

Of course, he's not bad, at least he can stay on the broom. "

Harry didn't know how to answer, so he could only smile awkwardly, while George and Fred frowned.

"Father!" cried Cedric Diggory.

"Although Harry fell off the broom, he also won the game." He muttered in a low voice, "I told you this."

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" Mr. Diggory said kindly and loudly, patting his son on the back. "Our Ced is always so humble and always behaves like a gentleman... "

"Okay, the time is almost up," Mr. Weasley quickly interrupted their chat, took out his pocket watch again and looked at it, "Do you know who else we are waiting for, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods were there a week ago, and the Fawcetts didn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There's no other wizard in the area, is there?"

"As far as I know, there are none." Mr. Weasley said, "Well, there is only one minute left... We should all be in our places..."

At Mr. Weissley's instruction, Clark and the others huddled together with difficulty, gathered around the old boot held by Amos Diggory, stretched out a finger, and pressed it on it.

"Three..." Mr. Weasley stared at his pocket watch with one eye and muttered in a low voice, "Two...one..."

Sooner or later, it seemed as if a hook was pulling on Clark's belly button, and then he lifted his feet off the ground and flew up with an unstoppable momentum.

Like him, everyone present who had touched the portkey surrounded him, shoulders bumping against each other.

Just like that, they flew forward like a gust of wind, unable to see anything clearly in front of them. Harry even screamed nervously.

I don't know how long it took, but finally, his feet fell heavily to the ground. Hermione staggered into him, and Harry fell directly in front of him.

"Five and seven, from Stoat Mountain." A hoarse voice sounded in their ears.

Clark looked up and saw two tired wizards with gloomy faces standing in front of him.

One of them held a large gold watch,

The other had a pen and paper in his hand and was dressed in nondescript Muggle clothing.

"Hey, good morning, Basil." Wes came to say hello, picked up the boot, and handed it to the wizard named Basil.

The man threw it into a large box next to him, which was already filled with used door keys, and then began to help them find the location of the camp.

"Wait a minute, let me find where your camp is... Come on Wes... Come on Wes..." Basil searched on the parchment list, "Go about a quarter and a mile. The first camp ahead is The groundskeeper is Mr. Roberts. Diggory...you are in the second camp...looking for Mr. Payne."

"Thank you, Basil." Mr. Weasley hurriedly asked everyone to follow him, because another group of people were teleported in the open space not far away.

It was only then that Clark began to look at the place he had arrived at.

Around them, milky white fog filled the air, and almost nothing could be seen under the thick fog. Only some low bushes occasionally revealed a little branches and leaves. It looked like a desolate swamp, both terrifying and eerie. It was Muggles. A place that will never come.

"Hey, organization work is very difficult," Mr. Weasley sighed as he led them through the swamp. "The British Ministry of Magic has not organized such a large event for a long time, and many people have no experience at all."

They were careful to avoid puddles on the ground, lest they get stuck in them and get mud on their feet.

"The main problem is that there are about 100,000 wizards coming to watch the Quidditch World Cup, and we certainly can't find a magical venue that can accommodate that many people without being discovered by Muggles.

There are some places that are inaccessible to Muggles, but imagine how could we possibly cram a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or Platform 9 3/4?

So we had no choice but to choose such an uninhabited swamp and took all measures to prevent Muggles. The entire ministry was busy on this matter for several months. "

Ginny interjected at this time, "Then why not choose Hogwarts? The dragon farm there is so big and hidden enough."

Mr. Weasley glanced at his daughter and replied with a smile: "Not Hogwarts. There are also big events to be held there this year."

George and Fred felt itchy after hearing this, and were about to ask Mr. Weiss what kind of activity it was. However, their vision was empty, but they had already walked out of the area shrouded in thick fog.

A huge wooden door stood in front of them with a welcome sign reading "Britain welcomes you".

Behind the wooden door is a brand new small stone house, so new that even the corners of the stones have not been polished and rounded, they are just stacked together.

Clark and others looked into the distance and could barely distinguish clearly. Behind the small stone house, hundreds of strange-shaped tents were being set up along a large sloping slope, extending all the way to the dark woods on the horizon. beside.

"Arthur, let's go over first." Diggory and his son said goodbye to them and walked to the venue assigned to their home.

Clark and the others also walked to the small stone house, where a Muggle man stood.

Mr. Weislai had a chat with him and wanted to buy a camp map and get the specific location of his camp.

In the process, Mr. Weasley gave the wrong Muggle a coin, which made the Muggle very suspicious.

Fortunately, a wizard from the Ministry of Magic descended from the sky and cast an oblivion spell on the Muggle, allowing Clark and the others to escape easily.

"Why did they put a Muggle in charge of such a thing?" Hermione asked Clark curiously as a group of people struggled to walk between two rows of tents. "This is a clear violation of the Wizarding Statute of Secrecy." ”, and repeatedly casting forgetting spells on people will cause permanent damage to a person’s memory.”

Faced with Hermione's stern accusation, Clark didn't know how to answer. At this time, Mr. Weislai quickly explained, "There is no way, the ministry is really short of manpower, and things like this are not easy to do." No one wants to do it.”

Clark knew that the last sentence was the key point. For a wizard, looking at the door was simply overkill.

Hermione was not very satisfied with this reason, but soon she was attracted by the strange tents around her.

Most of the tents in this camp didn't look like anything special. It was obvious that their owners had put a lot of thought into making them as similar as possible to Muggle tents.

But there must be one or two that have gone too far, adding chimneys, bell ropes or weathervanes in superfluous ways, making them nondescript and very weird.

Of course, among normal people there are always one or two who like to be unconventional and unruly.

There are a few tents that are enchanted at first glance.

For example, in the center of the camp, there is a tent that stands out.

It was very extravagantly made of a large amount of striped silk fabric. It was like a small palace. There were also a few live peacocks tied at the entrance. Clark knew at a glance that this was the Malfoy family's tent because of those few peacocks. He had seen the peacock in Malfoy's manor.

Then, they saw a tent set up in the shape of a four-story building with several turrets next to it, like a fortress.

A little further inside, there is a tent with a small garden in front of the door, which is equipped with a bird bath, sundial, fountain, etc.

Such a strange tent looked like a tent expo, so it was no wonder that the Muggle guarding the gate was suspicious.

"It's always like this," Mr. Weasley said with a smile, "when everyone gets together, they can't help but want to show off. Ah, here we are, look, this is ours."

They came to the edge of the woods at the end of the camp. There was a clearing here, and a small sign was stuck on the ground, which read: Wezley. Obviously the person who wrote the sign made a mistake.

But Mr. Weasley didn't seem to care much about this, "This place couldn't be better! The venue is on the other side of the forest, and it couldn't be any closer."

He said happily, taking off his backpack from his shoulders and taking out a tent from inside.

"Okay, let's put up the tent first. Strictly speaking, magic is not allowed. Since so many of us have come to Muggle territory, we have to put it up with our own hands!

It shouldn't be too difficult... Muggles are like that... By the way, Harry, where do you think we should start? "

He had asked the wrong person. Harry had never pitched a tent before, and the Dursleys never took him out during the holidays. They preferred to leave him with their neighbor, Mrs. Figg.

Fortunately, Clark and Hermione were still at the scene. With their minds, it was easy to figure out where the poles and screws should be.

Finally, with the help and guidance of the two Clarks, a slightly skewed tent was quickly erected.

But in Harry's opinion, the main problem now is, how can there be so many of them squeezed into this small tent?

By this time Mr. Weasley was on all fours and inside the tent.

"It might be a little crowded," he shouted excitedly, "but I think everyone can squeeze in. Come and see."

Harry bent down and slipped under the tent flap, his jaw dropped in surprise.

What appeared in front of them was not a small space in a tent, but an old-fashioned three-bedroom apartment with a bathroom and kitchen attached!

Only magic can fit a small house into such a tent.

"Oh, it's only temporary." Mr. Weasley wiped his bald head with a handkerchief and looked at the four bunk beds in the bedroom. "I borrowed these from Perkins in the office. Poor Guy, he’s got back pain and can’t camp anymore.”

But Harry was still very surprised. Even if the space in this tent was expanded with magic, it still couldn't accommodate everyone. After all, there were still Charlie, Bill and Percy who hadn't come.

Clark seemed to notice his doubts, smiled at him, and then got into the bedroom nearby.

When he came out again, he was carrying a suitcase that looked very familiar.

"Why did you bring this here?" Harry approached him and said happily, "If this is here, there will be no shortage of places to stay."

Clark patted him on the shoulder and motioned for him to be quiet.

At this time, Mr. Weasley was taking out the kettle and two stewpots they had brought, and told Ron, Harry, and Clark to fetch water outside the camp, and asked the rest of the people to collect firewood and prepare to light a fire outside. .

Clark took the opportunity to lead Hermione and the others outside the tent.

"We cannot open another space prop in a space that has been casted with a traceless stretching spell."

As he spoke, he placed the magic suitcase in the open space next to the tent, and then triggered some unknown mechanism. The cover of the suitcase began to flip and grow larger, just like a Transformer, and quickly turned into a A small wooden house that is more than two meters high and looks ordinary.

When Mr. Weiss came out and saw this scene, even if he did not agree with the use of magic props here, he had to let it go.

Harry and others quickly went in to visit the cabin and found that it still had the original spatial layout, and there was nothing different about it.

Fortunately, this way, there was finally enough room for them to rest.

After everything was packed up, Clark took the lead, taking Hermione, Harry and Ron, carrying kettles and stew pots, and prepared to cross the camp to fetch some water.

The sun was just rising now, and the mist gradually dispersed. They saw tents in all directions, as far as the eye could see.

The four people walked slowly between the tents, looking around with interest.

From time to time, you can still see some adult wizards emerging from their tents and starting to make breakfast.

Some of them peeked furtively, then stretched out their wands to light the fire; others foolishly struck matches with doubtful expressions on their faces, as if they thought it would definitely not work.

Three African wizards were sitting in front of a tent made of thatch, talking seriously about something. They were all wearing long white robes, and they were roasting something like a hare on a pile of purple fire.

Another group of middle-aged American male wizards were sitting there talking and laughing. A shiny banner hung high between their tents: Yinfamouni Academy of Magic.

Upon seeing this, Clark thought of Bruce Stewart, the transfer student from the United States.

Although the Magical Congress of the United States of America may have been involved in the last dragon farm attack, the British Ministry of Magic did not condemn the United States for this incident due to insufficient evidence.

Therefore, this transfer student from Yin Falmon still stayed in Hogwarts and did not leave because of this.

Of course, at this point, the school chose to keep him instead of expelling him. It is hard to tell outsiders what the plan was behind it.

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Hogwarts, students become gods