The atmosphere in the large tent was electric with excitement as the WeasIey family celebrated the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup final.

As the sounds of music, laughter, and cheers filled the tent, the WeasIey family was in high spirits. Fred and George were particularly rowdy, their faces flushed with the adrenaline of the game

The cheerful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a series of loud bangs and screams from outside the tent. Fred and George's laughter suddenly halted, their faces mirroring the confused expressions of the other family members.

Fred tilted his head to the side "Sounds like the Irish had got their pride on" he joked, assuming it was the Irish fans outside celebrating their team's victory.

Mr. WeasIey, hearing Fred's remark, entered the tent with a sense of urgency. His brow was furrowed, a look of concern etched across his face. "Fred, it's not the Irish," he said, his voice serious.

Mr. WeasIey's voice was firm and urgent as he repeated "We have to leave. Now." Hearing his words, Fred and George immediately snapped out of their stupor, their protective instincts kicking in. Without a second thought, they pulled you closer to them, their hands grasping your arms firmly.

Their eyes darted around the tent, taking in the chaos that was unfolding outside. The screams and bangs grew louder, the atmosphere suddenly tense and threatening.

Fred and George pushed through the flap of the tent and stepped outside into the chaotic scene. The once-orderly campsite was now a scene of chaos and destruction, with tents on fire and panicked wizards and witches racing about.