Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 453: Top-Level Box

Bill slept soundly until evening, when he was finally woken up—but the process was a bit of a team effort. Fred and George came up with the idea, Ron fetched the water, Ginny passed the bucket, and Charlie delivered the final touch by splashing the entire bucket of cool water directly onto Bill’s face. Even if Bill wanted to get angry, he wouldn’t have known who to blame.

Since Bill and Charlie were both home, and it was Kyle’s birthday, Mrs. Weasley had been busy in the kitchen since noon, preparing a big, delicious dinner. Just as Kyle had hoped, Chris arrived with his bottle of 150-year-old Firewhiskey. Mr. Weasley’s eyes lit up when he saw the impressive number on the label.

Unable to resist, Bill asked for a small glass, but this time he paced himself, sipping it slowly like Mr. Weasley. So instead of passing out immediately, he only collapsed onto the table near the end of dinner. Unfortunately, he did so just as Percy was taking a sip of his soup, splashing it all over Percy’s shirt.

Percy, displeased, pointed out that it was the shirt he intended to wear to work the next day. Even after Mrs. Weasley cleaned the soup stains off with a quick spell, Percy muttered under his breath as he returned to his room.

“If he’s so afraid of getting dirty, he shouldn’t have worn it to dinner,” Fred commented.

“Maybe he thought Mr. Crouch would drop by,” George added with a laugh.

Mrs. Weasley gave both of them a light smack on the head, which quickly shut them up. But this little mishap didn’t spoil the cheerful mood.

After dinner, the younger ones who hadn’t had any alcohol helped Bill up to his room. Meanwhile, Charlie had slumped over the table across from him. Ron and Ginny tried tugging and pulling at him for a while, but they couldn’t move him far, so they settled on shifting him from his chair to the floor. A few gnomes even wandered over, curiously poking Charlie’s face with their long, thin fingers.

“Go away!” Ron shooed the gnomes off before he and Ginny dragged Charlie back inside to The Burrow.

The next morning, Charlie woke up with a vague, dull ache, feeling as though he’d been trampled by a dragon.

And so, the days drifted by until mid-August. One evening, Mr. Weasley came home beaming with excitement.

“Did you get the tickets, Dad?” Fred asked, his face lighting up.

“Oh, I have a surprise for you,” Mr. Weasley said, pretending to sound disappointed, though he couldn’t hide the grin on his face. “A big surprise!”

He pulled out a stack of colorful tickets. “Thirteen of them, and they’re all for the best seats in the house.”

Fred asked in a hushed tone, “What do you mean by the best seats?”

“The Top Box,” Mr. Weasley replied. “We’ll be right up front, sitting in the same row as the Minister of Magic.”

“Oh, brilliant!”

Fred and George’s faces flushed with excitement as they clapped each other on the shoulders. They’d assumed Mr. Weasley would, at best, get tickets for the regular stands, but the Top Box was beyond their wildest hopes. It was the best spot in the stadium, offering a perfect view of the entire field.

“Dad, how did you manage that?” Ron asked in admiration.

“For some special reason, many people in the Ministry couldn’t attend the match,” Mr. Weasley explained. “So the Department of Magical Games and Sports gave Chris and me these tickets. This way, the Top Box won’t look so empty.”

“That’s lucky…” Ron said, unable to hide his excitement.

“But thirteen tickets still aren’t enough,” Fred said, frowning as he did a quick count. “There are nine of us in our family, plus Kyle’s family, Harry, Hermione, Cho, Kanna, Cedric… We’re still short.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. “I’m not much for those big, noisy events, so I’ll give my ticket to Harry, and Hermione can have my other one.”

“Same here,” Chris said, chuckling. “We have more important things to deal with than the World Cup—that’s part of why the Top Box is empty to begin with. And Diggory already has a ticket; we ran into him at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

“So… that leaves eleven tickets,” Fred counted. “The last two can go to Cho and Kanna.”

“Excellent!” Fred and George high-fived again.

With the ticket arrangements settled, the group went back to The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley began writing letters to let Harry and Hermione know. Hermione’s letter was easy—she simply sent it off with an owl. But when it came time to write to Harry, Mrs. Weasley hesitated.

She remembered that Harry’s aunt and uncle despised anything to do with wizards, and sending an owl might offend them.

“Leave it to me, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley, stepping forward with confidence. “I know exactly how Muggles send letters… They need these.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of colorful stamps.

“Just stick these on the envelope and drop it in the postbox. There’s one just outside the Ministry entrance… I’ve been wanting to try that for ages.”

“Are you sure, Arthur?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “Just put it in the postbox, and it’ll be fine?”

“Trust me… I’m a professional.”

“Alright…” Mrs. Weasley looked at the pile of stamps. “How many should I put on?”

Mr. Weasley hesitated, then, with a determined look, said, “Put them all on. If there aren’t enough, the letter might come back.”

“Okay!”

Kyle watched as Mrs. Weasley began affixing all the stamps, covering nearly the entire envelope and leaving just a small square for the Dursleys’ address.

“Actually…” Kyle ventured, “one stamp should be enough. If you put too many, it might look a bit suspicious.”

“One stamp?” Mr. Weasley asked in surprise.

Kyle nodded, picking up a single 10-penny stamp. “Yes, this one will do. Let’s take the others off.”

Mr. Weasley quickly gathered up the extra stamps. They were part of his prized collection, and he’d felt a pang at seeing them all stuck on the envelope. Now he felt as if he’d reclaimed something precious.

With the letter prepared, Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands. “There! The tournament’s on the weekend, so we’ll pick Harry up Friday, and we’ll be just in time.”

“What if his aunt and uncle say no?” Ron asked. “He can’t miss the tournament.”

“Of course he can’t miss it,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We’re picking him up whether they agree or not, but it’s only polite to pretend we’re asking their permission.”