Hermione turned her attention to the man across from her; she slowly sipped her coffee, looking for the man to speak first. She knew who he was, his lanky frame and bright ginger hair gave it away almost instantly. George Weasley.
 
 
 

“Hermione, please, I don’t want to go,” George begged.

“You are coming even if I have to drag you in, come on,” Hermione scowled at him, reaching out and knocking on the Burrow’s front door.
 
 

“No, I want Uncle George to buy me a broom; you don’t know anything about brooms!” Hugo frowned determinedly. Harry burst out laughing, bacon bits flying from his mouth. Hermione’s face turned cold but a smile was clearly trying to reach her lips. George let out a guffaw.
 

The rain fell hard on Hermione’s face. She was laid flat out on the wet grass. She was soaked from head to toe, she could feel the deep mud beneath her back, and the fist marks beneath her hands where she’d pounded the ground. Her wand was discarded five feet away.
 

It was completely packed to the rafters, Hermione and Harry wouldn’t even bother trying to reach any of the products along the walls even if they wanted to. From where they were Harry could see the old classics that the shop had used to sell, the Skiving Snackboxes, the Nosebleed Nuggets and of course the Patented Daydream Charms Harry remembered Hermione being so interested in the first ever time they’d come into the shop in their sixth year.
 

“So, we’re called here today in order to decide whether or not George Weasley, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, has the right to gain back full ownership of his wand or if he needs to serve time in Azkaban,” a large nosed grey haired wizard began.
 

 It took a while to get through the ticket office, as there were so many of them, but soon they were all standing on the other side of the entrance, the elephant enclosure only just to their left. Luckily Hugo was still in his pram so he wasn’t going crazy about the great African mammals just yet.

 “A little help,” George murmured.

“I can’t, I can’t see anything and my hands are up in the air,” Hermione muttered back.

George yanked again and the shirt came free.

“That’s your massive brain you know, making your head so big that your shirt can’t get past it,” George laughed.

 

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