"Got it." Fred made an OK gesture and took the black robe from Harry's hand, draping it over himself.
The two of them pulled up their hoods and then put on masks; they really didn't look like good people.
They walked all the way to where that Dark Wizard had been standing just now; sure enough, he was still waiting there.
Seeing them come over, the Dark Wizard was wary at first, but when he made out Harry's figure, he relaxed.
He alertly lifted his head, glanced around, and lowered his voice to ask, "So? Did you bring the goods?"
"We brought them." Harry made an OK gesture, signaling Fred to hand over all those Magic Wands to the Dark Wizard.
The Dark Wizard took the Magic Wands, looked over them one by one, and felt the Magic Power contained in each.
"Mm, very pure." He nodded in approval. "Thirty-five in total? All right, I'll pay you the Galleons right now."
Harry had thought he might try to stiff them, but the man very readily counted out the money and handed it over.
"Check it yourselves, that's one hundred and seventy-five Golden Galleons." The Dark Wizard said to them, "If there's nothing else, I'll be off."
"All right, pleasure doing business." Harry nodded.
Fred stayed frozen there, and only after the Dark Wizard left did he finally stomp his foot in shock and roar, "Holy—! Merlin! God! Merlin's Holy Mother Mary! You actually sold a Magic Wand that costs four Sickles for five Golden Galleons! Merlin's black long johns! This thing only costs one Sickle to make, this is just… just obscene profit, that's eighty‑five times over! A full eighty‑five times!"
His calculation wasn't wrong; thanks to Wizards' magical exchange rates, one Golden Galleon equaled seventeen Silver Sickles, so five Galleons really were eighty‑five Silver Sickles.
"I've always felt," Harry shook his head, "that I actually have some talent for business. What do you think?"
"How can you call that 'some' talent?" Fred slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and the two walked back together. "That's serious talent—you are insanely gifted—I've decided to give you a four‑Galleon commission on every Magic Wand, my brilliant salesman…"
"Oh, that won't be necessary." Harry shot Fred a mischievous wink. "Your Weasley tricks are still in their start‑up phase, so your top priority right now is getting your capital back. Besides, these Magic Wands were your idea. If you really feel bad about it, you can give me ten percent of the shares in Weasley tricks."
"Thirty!" Fred gave Harry a resounding slap on the shoulder. "You're a crucial part of our brain trust, no amount would be too much for you! Settled, how about it?"
"That's really great." Harry nodded with a smile.
When they got back and told George about the eighty‑five‑fold profit, the look George gave Harry was like he was looking at Merlin himself.
"You're my god, mate!" George said in awe.
Harry put on a humble expression, as if to say this was nothing.
They wandered around the campsite for a bit, and then saw Ginny running over.
Right at that moment, somewhere far off in the woods there came a deep, resonant gong. Very soon, whoosh, thousands upon thousands of red and green lanterns flared to life in the trees, lighting the road to the stadium.
"Aren't you going back yet?" Ginny sounded anxious. "Dad's been looking all over for you, the match is about to start—"
"Okay, Ginny." Fred waved the green Ireland badge in his hand and said to Ginny with a grin, "Look what we bought? Look—Ireland's team badge. Here, one for you."
"Oh." Ginny took the badge and casually pinned it to her chest.
"Come on." she repeated, "Dad's practically dying of worry!"
"Relax, Ginny." Fred rolled his eyes. "You're getting more and more like Mum, you know that?"
"That's because you're forever the worry‑free son!" Ginny shot back sharply, clearly not the first time she'd verbally counterattacked the two of them.
After they regrouped with their family in the tent, the whole group left the tent and headed for the Quidditch stadium.
Mr. Weasley and Little Sirius led the way in front; everyone clutched the things they'd bought and strode quickly into the woods along the lantern‑lit path.
They could hear hundreds and thousands of people moving all around, hear shouts and laughter, and snatches of song drifting by.
They walked through the woods for twenty minutes, laughing and joking loudly as they went. Finally, they emerged from the other side of the forest and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.
Harry could only see a section of the magnificent golden walls encircling the pitch, but he could tell you could fit ten cathedrals inside without a problem.
"It holds a hundred thousand spectators." Mr. Weasley saw the stunned look on Mr. Granger's face and said with a smile, "Five hundred Ministry of Magic staff worked flat‑out on this for a whole year. Every inch of this place is under a Muggle-Repelling Charm—throughout this year, whenever a Muggle came near here, they'd suddenly remember some terribly urgent business and hurry away… God bless them."
"But you can't." he added, "The Muggle-Repelling Charm doesn't work on you."
With that, he led everyone to the nearest entrance, where a great many shouting Wizards were already crowding around.
"Top‑class tickets." The Ministry of Magic Witch at the entrance glanced at their tickets and said, "The highest box! Keep going upstairs, Arthur, all the way to the top—the box on your right‑hand side is yours."
A purple‑red carpet ran up the stairs into the stadium. They climbed with the crowd, and gradually the stream of people split off into the stands to either side.
The group led by Mr. Weasley kept going up until they reached the top of the stairs. They found themselves in a small box, right at the very top of the stadium and directly opposite the golden goalposts.
There were about twenty purple and gilt seats in two rows.
Harry sat down in the front row with the Weasley family and looked down. What he saw was beyond anything he'd imagined.
A hundred thousand Wizards were filing into their seats, which rose in tiers all around the oval stadium.
From their lofty vantage point, the pitch looked as smooth and even as velvet.
On either side of the pitch stood three goal hoops, each fifty feet high; to their right, almost level with Harry's line of sight, was a gigantic blackboard. Golden words flashed across it constantly, as if an invisible giant hand were scrawling wildly on the board and then wiping the words away.
Looking closer, Harry realized that the flashing words were advertisements for the spectators.
Centaurea: the Flying Broom for the whole family—safe, reliable, with built‑in anti‑theft buzzer…
Mrs. Skol's All‑Purpose Miracle Stain Remover: stains vanish, easy as you please!…
Wind Charm Wizard Robe—London, Paris, Hogwarts…
George and Fred gazed, entranced, at the big adverts on the board; the two of them leaned on the railing, and Fred nudged George twice with his elbow.
"One day, I'm going to get Weasley magic tricks adverts up at the World Cup!" he said.
"Ha." George patted Fred's arm. "That's what I'm hoping for too—of course, we can't let Mum find out. At least not yet."
Meanwhile, in a shadowy box somewhere else.
"Atkinson," the Wizard shrouded in darkness spoke, "how's that thing I told you to do?"
"Relax, Crouch." Atkinson said, "I've found an even more perfect Magic Wand—it can carry out our plan flawlessly!"
If Harry had been in that box, he would have recognized him for sure.
This Atkinson was the Dark Wizard who had just bought fake Magic Wands from him.