Sport Is A Family Event
The Lovegoods’ tent was the first to go up in their area of campsite. At a week out from the match, the only people on the scene were a handful of other early arrivals, the teams and their staffs, and a handful of Ministry officials who are there to keep things orderly. A task that should prove to be progressively more difficult as the week wore on.
The Muggle campsite manager was still innocently complacent.
“Having a bit of a holiday, are we?” he said jovially to Luna when she and Dad had checked in. “Getting a bit of the outdoors before school starts again? Don’t find many girls this age who like to camp,” he added, this time addressing Mr. Lovegood. “My niece, now? Can barely drag her away from her computer and those music video shows.”
Dad had glanced sideways at Luna, who just shrugged. After a moment, the campground manager had shrugged, handed them a map, and waved them off toward a far-flung field.
Getting the tent up without wands had taken some doing, but in the end, Dad looked around the interior-a shabby, but clean and airy bungalow-with satisfaction.
“I figure we’ll put you children up in the loft,” he said, pointing to the wooden platform that created a half-ceiling over the living area. “And Auntie George, Douglas and Jeanette, and I will arrange ourselves down here. Myron is bringing his tent, and he and Archie are going to set up shop next door.”
The Lovegood store of blood relations might be small, but Dad often said that family was where you found it. And the Lovegoods’ companions for the Quidditch World Cup had been a part of Luna’s life for as long as she could remember.
Auntie George (Mrs. Georgina Drew) was the first to arrive. Wizened brown face and wiry white hair peaking out from beneath an orange turban, an elegant ivory pipe clamped in her teeth. As usual, she was grumbling.
“Thick Muggle. Thinks a woman my age might find camping uncomfortable. I told him, I did, that I camped out for four months in the Ural Mountains back in the ‘20s after that nasty goblin business. That made him back off right quick, let me tell you.”
The Cooks were the next to arrive. Douglas and Jeannette Cook were a handsome couple, several years younger than Mr. Lovegood. They arrived, as always, with a burst of cheerful noise, mostly generated by their six year old twins. Mackie and Gwennie were delighted with the sleeping loft and begged to go to bed right away, even though it wasn’t even time for lunch.
“If only they were so eager at night,” Mrs. Cook said, dryly. She enveloped Luna in a warm hug. “Luna, my dear, you must stop by the shop when you come through Diagon Alley for your school things. I just got in a mountain of new stock.”
The Cooks ran The Kitchen Sink, a shop full of odd items, most of them second hand. Luna always thought it was a wonderful jumble of possibilities.
Mr. Myron Spring arrived carrying, as usual, his battered easel and case of paints. Mr. Spring was a little older than Mr. Lovegood, and was an imposing enough figure to make one wonder if he didn’t have some giant somewhere back in his family tree. He had a large hooked nose, dull brown hair and eyes, and a voice lovely enough to make up for his plain looks.
“Xeno, old boy. I have a vintage bottle of Ogden’s Old in my pack, and a few nights hence, we’ll be toasting Ireland’s victory, just wait and see.”
The last to arrive was Archie Butterfield, who collapsed dramatically onto the floor of the Lovegoods’ tent as soon as he was admitted.
“Had to take the train,” he said. “Then beg a ride from a friend. Then catch a bus. Then catch another bus. And then I just said ‘bugger it’ and walked the last five miles. Ah, thanks, Luna,” he added when she held a cup of tea under his nose.
“Archie, I have to hand it to you,” Mr. Cook said. “Muggle travel. I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s not so bad once you’re used to it,” Archie said with a tired wave. “I would have come up with mum and dad if they’d been able to make it-shame they have to miss the World Cup. But I figured that someone should be here to represent the Butterfields, even if it’s the Squib contingent.”
That evening, as the sun was setting, the entire party set out on a long stroll up to the stadium where the Irish team was getting in a practice while the Ministry tested out the lights on the top tier.
“You know, one of my friends at Oxford is going into engineering. It’s a shame he’ll never see the likes of this,” Archie said.
“It is a marvel,” Mr. Lovegood agreed. “It’s a pity he’ll never see it. A Muggle would never even know to look for it. A person might as well go about blind if they didn’t try to keep their eyes peeled for the unexpected. Like Luna’s Bar at the End of the Universe.”
The others nodded in agreement. Luna had told her father all about Milliways as soon as she had returned from it. She had even tried to show him, but the door only opened into the pantry. And she had recounted her adventure to each of their friends in turn as they had arrived.
It was good to keep one’s eyes open for the unexpected, Luna agreed.
But apparently sometimes the unexpected comes looking for you as well.