discontinued, re-write titled "Mind Over Matter".
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❞𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. . .❞
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Liliana Granger never sought out the adventures of life, she'd grown comfortable in what she knew and applied...
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"Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
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," greeted 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; Liliana could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.
"Hello there, Arthur," replied 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. . . . Weasley . . . Weasley . . ." 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. Diggory . . . second field . . . ask for Mr. Payne."
"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.
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, Liliana 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 Diggorys and approached the cottage door
A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Liliana 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 Mr. Weasley brightly.
"Morning," said the Muggle.
"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," answered Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"
"Weasley - two tents, 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 one night?"
"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.
"You'll be paying now, then?" asked Mr. Roberts.
"Ah - right - certainly -" responded Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. "Help me, Harry," 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," Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word.
"Ah yes, so it is. . . . I don't know, these little bits of paper . . ."
