Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. 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 thighlength 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, Arthur," 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... Weasley ... Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site managers called Mr. Roberts. Diggory ... second field ... ask for Mr. Payne. And Corbin …. Next to the Weasley's"
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, Harry 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 Diggory's and approached the cottage door. A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry 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," said 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 the one night?" "That's it," said Mr. Weasley.
"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Ah - right - certainly -" said 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.
"Here this will be more than enough for both keep the change." Suddenly distracting everyone from Mr. Weasley's money troubles was the sight of Irving passing a clip of £50 notes to Mr Roberts. "That's really not necessary" said Mr. Weasley quite taken back. "Don't mention it." responded Irving. "We're neighbours. Oh and here's a map" he finished with a smile.
They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain. "Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us." They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.
"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult... Muggles do it all the time... Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?" Harry had never been camping in his life; the Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbour. Unfortunately just as Harry and Hermione were making progress on the first tent there was a sudden "CRACK!" A red faced Mr. Weasley had somehow managed to snap a number of the poles for the other tent. "You guys want to borrow a tent? We have a spare." said a cheerful Irving walking over. "Thank you so much that would be wonderful" quickly responded Hermione with a blush. "On one condition you let me help you put it up" said Irving with a smirk. Not long after there were an erect pair of two-man tents sanding next two three one-manner's in the clearing.