One set of stands, behind magically-strengthened glass, has been enchanted with extra protections from the inside and out, to allow for non-witch and wizards to attend the Quidditch World Cup. All ghosts, goblins, and other intelligent creatures may observe the match from this location, without fear of discovery by Muggles, thanks to some new and improved disillusionment-type charms.

OOC: This set of stands is for ghosts, goblins, and other creatures with express permission from myself or a Ministry department to post. Please do not post unless you have been granted permission.

The Wailing Widow floated eerily towards the extra-protection section of the stadium, floating straight through the magically enhanced barrier. Just because she was a ghost, didn't mean she didn't like a well played game of Quidditch.

It seemed the ghost from Kent was the first to make her arrival however, and feeling lonely, she did what she did best.

WAAAAAAIIIIIILLLLLL.

The Fat Friar rubbed his belly as he drifted into the special stands designated for a select group of magical beings, or non-beings in his case. He understood the need for secrecy with so many Muggles in the surrounding areas and was not in the least offended when he was instructed to sit in these particular stands. Sure, they were no Top Box seats, but they were pretty decent nonetheless. The only thing that would make this more perfect would be if he could eat some of those delicious foods he'd passed on his way up to the stadium...

Oho! There's the Widow from Kent, wailing as always. A little cheer would do her some good, "Good day, madame! Why the long face?"

Head in hand, Sir P.D. Podmore floated his way on into the extra protected stands. Extra protected...psh. Why, he didn't intend to hurt anyone! Sure, most of the people here were unusual in that they still had their heads on their shoulders, but P.D. meant no harm. Still, into the extra protected stands he would happily go!

...and he had company, which was also something to smile about, hmm? "Good day, madame, sir!" he greeted, floating about the place and scoping for a nice place to hover. Hopefully he wouldn't end up hovered directly behind someone...that was an awful way to have to watch a match.

The Baron flew in and took a seat. He grumbled but said nothing, as usual, the baron only spoke when he absolutely had to.

Oh, this was better. The others had arrived and the wailing came to an abrupt stop. And just in time too, it seemed. Was that the referee on the pitch?

"How do you do, Friar? And Sir Podmore?" The Widow performed a hovering curtsey. The Baron wouldn't be getting a greeting. Miserable spirit.

The wailing wench was there... He hated her... she was nothing compared to his... his... Lady Ravenclaw... He glared at the spirit. Why was she here anyway... the Quidditch final was for wizards... not witches... She just wanted Sir Nick to pay attention to her... the hussy!