Rows of stalls and tents had sprouted overnight like multicolored mushrooms—ring-toss games, a dunk tank, a tower of cauldrons with something bubbling on top.

And then there was the tent.

Deep green, lined with silver trim. A hand-painted sign above its entrance read: Slytherin Boys’ Kissing Booth – 2 Sickles a Kiss. Beneath it, a chalkboard tally was already marking the third row of hatch-marks.

A line of girls stretched from the tent's entrance, weaving past the crowd, whispering, giggling, elbowing each other.