Chapter 71 - 71. This is a title (1/2)

(A/N i have a bit I'd troubles with titles sometimes cause I often tend to wing it at first because technically I'm reading the book as I'm writing and copying and fixing things and I sometimes only have the title to go by as I often don't remember every little detail of the chapters this is a good book it's over double the size of the last two lots more plot and I can write a but more. I mostly am too lazy to change titles after I'm done I just dump things there and hope for the best lol.)

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

”Morning, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.

”Hello there, Amos,” said Basil wearily. ”Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some. . . . We've been here all night. . . . You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite. . . . Diggory. . . Diggory. . . . ” He consulted his parchment list. ”About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. ”

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Ryan could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. They said good-bye to the weasleys and approached the cottage door.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Ryan knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

”Morning!” said Dad brightly.

”Morning,” said the Muggle.

”Would you be Mr. Roberts?”

”Aye, I would,” said Mr. Roberts. ”And who're you?”

”Diggory – booked a couple of days ago?”

”Aye,” said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. ”You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?”

”That's it,” said Dad

”You'll be paying now, then?” said Mr. Roberts.

”Ah – right – certainly -” said Dad. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Ryan toward him. ”Help me, Ryan” he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. ”This one's a – a – a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now. . . So this is a five?”

”A twenty,” Ryan corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word. ”Just let me handle it.” he said and paid quickly