Chapter 2
It was dark, very dark. Meg looked around and strained to see anything. Suddenly a scratchy voice echoed through her head, the words were dark and incomprehensible. To Meg, the odd language reminded her of a snake. The room lit up with a blinding white light, when the light dimmed to a dark green she glanced around at her surroundings. The room turned out to be a large dungeon with puddles all over the floor. A short way up the path, a girl with brilliant red-orange hair lay unmoving. Meg crossed curiously to the girl and touched her cheek. The girl's skin was ice cold and felt like porcelain; she felt like death. From behind, Meg heard a quiet hiss. She spun around and stared into the fangs of a giant snake. Meg opened her eyes and sat up. Her heart was racing and she took several deep breaths to calm herself. She looked around cautiously. She was in her room still; she lived in the attic, she had gotten this room last summer when Harry had started receiving letters from Hogwarts. Previously, she and Harry had shared the cramped cupboard under the stairs,more than once they woke up with cramps in their muscles from sleeping in such a small space. Meg looked at the low attic window. It was still night. Meg walked over to the door and pushed on the door, it wouldn't budge. It had been locked from the outside. Then she remembered, three days ago the Dursleys had locked the two Potters into their rooms for no reason at all. they had installed cat flaps into the doors as well as extra locks. They even went so far as to put bars on Harry's window, but since her window didn't open the apparently hadn't found it worth their time or money. Not that she was complaining. The cat flaps were used to push small amounts of food into the room three times a day. and Meg was only allowed out of the room twice a day, once in the morning and once before bed, to use the bathroom. Meg hadn't thought it was possible, but life with the Dursleys had become even more of a hell than it already was. She had almost drifted back into a more peaceful sleep when she suddenly sat up, her heart racing. She has heard something strange. she listened closely. There was a quiet scuffling at the locks on her door followed by a click. She looked at the window again; it looked like it was about midnight. What was going on? Surely the Dursleys weren't opening the door, but no one else had a key. She heard the click of the final lock and the door slowly swung open. There were four shadowy figures in her doorway and she hid herself under her blanket, barely daring to breath. One of the figures crossed the room and came to the side of her bed. "Meg," the voice whispered, "Meg get up." It was Harry. Meg crawled out of her blankets and looked around; with her brother there were three tall boys, one much shorter than the others, all with the same brilliant orange hair. "What's going on?" she said softly. "They came to rescue us," said Harry, "this is Ron Weasley, Meg, and his older brothers Fred and George." Ron waved awkwardly while Fred and George swooped in to shake her hands. "A pleasure to meet you fair lady," said one of the identical boys. "Yes, quite!" said the other, both still rather aggressively shaking her hands. A few minutes later, Meg followed the boys down the hall to Harry's room and watched as they all climbed out the window. Meg went to the window and looked out, the bars were gone and instead there was a floating car that now had the three Weasley boys sitting in the seats. Harry's trunk and broom were already in the car, Ron reached his hand out to her and Harry helped her up to the window. She climbed through into the car and sat next to the closed door. Harry climbed into the windowsill, but as he did a loud screech came from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon's voice. "THAT RUDDY OWL!" "I've forgotten Hedwig!" Harry tore across the room as the landing light clicked on - he snatched up Hedwig's cage, dashed to the window, and passed it out to Ron. He was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door - and it crashed open. For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed in the doorway; then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at Harry, grabbing him by the ankle. Ron, Fred, and George seized Harry's arms and pulled as hard as they could. "Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!" But the Weasleys gave a gigantic tug and Harry's leg slid out of Uncle Vernon's grasp - Harry was in the car - he'd slammed the door shut - "Put your foot down, Fred!" yelled Ron, and the car shot suddenly toward the moon. Meg couldn't believe it - they were free. Harry rolled down the window, the night air whipping his hair, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry's window. "See you next summer!" Harry yelled. Meg and the Weasleys roared with laughter as Harry settled back into his seat looking very pleased with himself. "Let Hedwig out," he told Ron. "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings in ages," George handed a hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost. "So - what's the story, Harry?" said Ron impatiently. "What's been happening?" Harry told them all a story about a house elf named Dobby, the warning he'd given Harry, and the fiasco of the violet pudding. This, Meg realized, was probably the reason the Dursleys locked them up. There was a long, shocked silence when he had finished. "Very fishy," said Fred finally. "Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?" "I don't think he could," said Harry. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall." Fred and George looked at each other. "What, you think he was lying to me?" said Harry. "Well," said Fred, "put it this way - house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?" " Yes," said Harry and Ron together, instantly. "Draco Malfoy," Harry explained. "He hates me." "Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?" "Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry. "Why?" "I've heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who." "And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at Harry, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung - Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle." Meg only half listened to any of this as she looked out the car window sleepily. She looked down at the top of trees while marveling at the magical world she had been thrown into. "I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf…." said Harry. "Well, whoever owns him will be an old Wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred. "Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house…." "I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first -" "Who's Errol?" "Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes -" "Who?" "The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he made prefect," said Fred from the front. "But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron. "Said he needed him." "Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room…. I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge…. You're driving to far west, Fred," he added, pointing a a compass on the dashboard. Fred twiddled the steering wheel. "So, does your dad know you've got the car?" said Harry- Meg could already guess the answer. "Er, no," said Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back into the garage without Mum noticing we flew it." "What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic anyway?" "He works in the most boring department," said Ron. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office." "The what?" "It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare - Dad was working overtime for weeks." "What happened?" "The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic - it's only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office - and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up -" "But your dad - this car -" Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad." "That's the main road," said George, peering down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes…. Just as well, it's getting light…." A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east. Fred brought the car lower, and Meg saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees. "We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole." Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees. "Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Meg looked out for the first time on the Weasley's house. It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it was held up by magic (which, Meg reminded herself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, "The Burrow". Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard. "It's not much, " said Ron. "It's wonderful, " said Harry happily, as Meg thought of Privet Drive. They got out of the car. "Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly, " said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, `Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and Meg and no one need ever know we flew the car. " "Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the-" Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The other three wheeled around. Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger. "Ah," said Fred. "Oh, dear," said George. Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket. "So," she said. "Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice. "Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper. "Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to-" All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. "Beds empty! No note! Car gone-could have crashed-out of my mind with worry-did you care?-never, as long as I've lived-you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy-" "Perfect Percy, " muttered Fred. "YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job-"It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry and Meg, who backed away. "I'm very pleased to see you dears, " she said. "Come in and have some breakfast. "She turned and walked back into the house and Meg, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her and Harry. The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Meg sat down on the edge of his seat, looking around. She had never been in a wizard house before. The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts-It's Magic! And unless Meg's ears were deceiving her, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck." Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it." "I don't blame you, dear," she assured Harry and Meg, tipping eight or nine sausages onto each plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," (she was now adding three fried eggs to Megs' plate) "flying an illegal car halfway across the country -anyone could have seen you-" She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. "It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred. "You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "They were starving them, Mum!" said George. "And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him. At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again. "Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer." "Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all five plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time. "Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and-" "You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again-" "Oh, Mum-" "And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and Fred. "You can go up to bed, dears," she added to Harry and Meg. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car-" "I'll help Ron. I've never seen a de-gnoming-" said Harry quickly. "That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject-"And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned. "Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden-" Meg looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good looking wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who Meg supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him. "Oh, he is marvelous, " she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book..." "Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper. "Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it." Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry behind them. Meg opted to go upstairs. Mrs. Weasley directed her to Ginny's room. She knocked on the door and there was a scuffle before the door opened a crack, "Yes?" came a quiet voice. "Your mum told me to come stay with you; she thinks we would be good friends." The door swung open and Ginny gestured for Meg to come inside. The room was small, but not cramped. The walls were a nice shade of lavender and the bed had a fluffy blanket of a matching color. The room was tidy except for several large squishy pillows all around the room. The walls contained a few posters with Quidditch players and a few more featuring wizarding bands. Meg held out her hand to Ginny, "I'm Meg Potter." she said offering her friendship. "Ginny Weasley," Ginny said, taking Meg's hand. Ginny sat down on the bed and gestured for Meg to join her. Meg sat down and awkwardly tried to think of something to talk about. "What house do you suppose you'll be in?" Ginny asked shyly. "I don't really know," said Meg, "The only house I know anything about is Gryffindor." Ginny laughed lightly, "Yeah I guess you wouldn't know. From what I've heard you don't get much contact with the wizarding world. Well, as you know, Gryffindor values bravery, courage, and nerve. Ravenclaw gets the wizards that are smart and creative. Hufflepuff, well they're sort of dull, I'm not really sure what they do. Then there's Slytherin. The whole lot of them is rotten, all they care about is blood status and fame. All of my family has been in Gryffindor. I figure that's where I'll go." Meg carefully considered the choices. "I figure I'll be a Hufflepuff," she said glumly. "I'm not particularly brave of intelligent." Ginny patted her shoulder softly, "I'm sure you'll get a great house, Meg." Just then, the front door slammed. "He's back! Dad's home!" Ginny exclaimed excitedly as she hurried to the door and down the stairs. Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn. "What a night, " he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned... "Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed. "Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly. "All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness..." "Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George. "Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it... Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking-they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face... But the things our lot have taken to en-chanting, you wouldn't believe-" "LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?" Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife. "C-cars, Molly, dear?" "Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly. "Mr. Weasley blinked. "Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if-er-he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth... There's a loophole in the law, you'll find... As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't-" "Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry and Meg arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!" "Harry and Meg?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry and Meg who?" He looked around, saw The Potters, and jumped. "Good lord, is it Harry and Meg Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about-" "Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night." shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?" "Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right? I-I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes, "that-that was very wrong, boys-very wrong indeed..." "Let's leave them to it, " Ginny muttered to Meg as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, let's go back to my bedroom." They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to the uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house. Meg and Ginny sat back on the bed, "So, what's your deal with my brother?" Meg asked slyly. Ginny blushed and checked her hair for split ends. "Well, I'm not really sure, it's just, I don't know. I get a weird feeling in my stomach when he's around." Meg and Ginny talked and gossiped for the rest of the night.