Heeey! So here's the newest chapter! I'm going to try and get a chapter out every other week, so if I don't have one out two weeks from now, feel free to start hassling me. We'll see how that goes - I've got some serious classes next semester. Two Honors business classes and I'm taking Japanese classes. Why? Why not, I need a foreign language. Anyway, that's my life as it stands right now. Enjoy Lorena!
Oh, wait, before you do that, I'd like to plug a story of mine. I updated it earlier today. It's called Only Forever, it's a Captain America fic. If you're into that, go over and give it a look-see? Maybe a review?
I packed the moment Uncle Vernon said it was okay. Well, after a brief celebration with Harry that involved lots of giggling and squealing and I refused to ever again speak of. The floor of our room was suddenly clean for the first time since summer.
But while Harry was free to sit around and grin to himself about Quidditch and an enjoyable summer, I had business to handle. I pushed open the door to Raincrow Crafts, the bell jangling overhead alerting Amity to my presence.
She emerged from the back, smiling. "Come to tell me the news, doll?"
I stared at her. "Er… what? How'd you know it was me?"
"Magic," Amity said with a wink. I resisted the urge to double over laughing. I was sure that Amity wasn't a witch. She did seem to know things before she should though. I fully intended to look into that once I got to Hogwarts and see if Muggles could have the Sight too.
"You have news?" Amity asked, holding up two glasses of iced tea. She beckoned me over and placed one on the counter for me, taking a sip from the other.
"You really did know I was coming," I said, impressed, taking a drink. I made a face at the unexpected taste. "What is that?"
"Arnold Palmer," she responded immediately. "Iced tea and lemonade. And yes, I knew you were coming and I knew you had news. So, spill."
Deciding it wasn't that bad, I took another drink and nodded. "Yes, I have news. A friend of my brother invited us to stay with his family for the rest of the summer. We're leaving Sunday."
"So you're giving your notice," Amity nodded, looking mildly disappointed. "That's a shame, you were a lot of help."
"Perhaps this could become an annual summer thing?" I suggested hopefully. Amity stared sightlessly over my shoulder, lost in thought.
"Well, I suppose no one's come breaking down my door about child slavery yet, so we're good there. Yes, when you get back, come here and I'll see if I can use you. If I don't have anything for you to do, though, you're out of luck," Amity said sternly. I got the distinct impression that Amity would find something for me to do even if it was vacuuming the floors and washing the windows. "That fair?"
I nodded. It was more than fair. Amity was really going out on a limb for me, had been since I started, and I was grateful.
"Let me get your last paycheck," Amity said, disappearing into the back again. "So tell me about this friend of your brother," she called. "Ron, right? The one with all the siblings?"
"Yeah." I nodded. I'd told her a few bits and pieces of our time at Hogwarts. Nothing magical, of course, but about the people. She knew about Ron and Hermione and knew that I tended not to get along with the rest of my house.
"Bet you'll be pleased to see the other twins sooner than expected," Amity observed as she emerged from the back and passed me an envelope. I took it and tucked it into my bra.
"It'll be great to see them," I agreed. "And with all this extra time to plan we'll definitely be able to kick the year off with a bang."
"You'll have to write and tell me all about it," Amity said. I froze. That would be tricky…
"I can't…" I said slowly. Amity raised an eyebrow incredulously.
"What, they don't allow mail at your school?"
"Well you can't read it anyway," I shot back. Amity scoffed.
"Just because I can't read doesn't mean other people can't. I could have someone read it to me. You're right though, it's a little impractical. Ah well," she sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. I winced.
"Sorry Amity, my school's just touchy about who we contact. You know, for safety reasons." I pulled that out my ass. Amity nodded.
"I understand that. I remember my old high school, we weren't allowed to leave campus during lunch to go eat like all the other schools were. Very disappointing, when the other kids were talking about going to eat on the square and you got three-day-old sloppy joes." Amity thrust out her tongue.
"They feed us better than that," I said gratefully.
"Good," Amity said gladly. "Well, have fun kid. Get packed and get going, you're going to have more fun than helping an old blind lady haul boxes around."
"You're not old," I assured her.
"I'm not a lady either." Amity shrugged and winked. "Get moving girl, have a good time."
Amity leaned over the counter, hugging me tightly. I hugged her back, surprised to realize I would miss her. Originally I'd taken the job just hoping to make some cash but Amity had been a bright spot in my summer. She served me iced tea – the woman was addicted – and told me funny stories about growing up in the South, she even taught me a few words of Cherokee, which I was rather proud of.
I would definitely be trying to get my job back next summer.
The atmosphere in Number 4 the day the Weasleys were to arrive was tense. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and trying to puff himself up and look intimidating. Dudley, on the other hand, looked smaller than normal, shrunken in fear. I couldn't blame him, considering the last time he interacted with a wizard he came away with a pig tail.
The Dursleys had camped out in the living room. Aunt Petunia was compulsively straightening cushions. Uncle Vernon was pretending to read the paper, but his tiny eyes were not moving. Dudley was crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath him, clamped firmly around his bottom. To avoid the tension they radiated, Harry and I had taken seats halfway up the stairs, waiting for the Weasleys to arrive.
I leaned my head on Harry's shoulder. "How much longer?" I whined obnoxiously.
"It's five o'clock," Harry assured me, glancing up at the clock that hung on the living room wall. Uncle Vernon seemed to have noticed that it was the time the Weasleys were supposed to arrive as well.
Uncle Vernon, perspiring slightly in his suit, opened the front door, peered up and down the street, then withdrew his head quickly.
"They're late!" he snarled at us.
"I know," said Harry. "Maybe - er - the traffic's bad, or something."
Uncle Vernon sat down again with a huff and flourished the paper loudly.
"There's no way they're coming by car," I muttered to Harry. "The Ford Anglia's in the Forbidden Forest."
"Well then how would they get here?" Harry wondered.
"Brooms, maybe?" I suggested.
"Nah, they'd be seen."
In the living room, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were getting steadily more and more annoyed as it crept towards a quarter past.
"No consideration at all."
"We might've had an engagement."
"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."
"Well, they most certainly won't be," said Uncle Vernon. He stood up and started pacing the living room. "They'll take the brats and go, there'll be no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tin-pot car that's broken d -AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"
Harry and I jumped up. From the other side of the living room door came the sounds of the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. The next moment Dudley came flying into the hall, looking terrified.
"What happened?" I demanded. "What's the matter?"
But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks, he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen.
"Useless lump," I cursed him and Harry and I clattered down the stairs into the living room.
Loud bangings and scrapings were coming from behind the Dursleys' boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it.
"Oh Merlin's bollocks!" I cursed when I realized what was going on. "They've Flooed!"
"What is it?" gasped Aunt Petunia, who had backed into the wall and was staring, terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Vernon?"
Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.
"Ouch! Fred, no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake - tell George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron-"
"Maybe Harry or Lorena can hear us, Dad - maybe they'll be able to let us out-"
There was a loud hammering of fists on the boards behind the electric fire.
"Harry? Lorena, can you hear us?"
The Dursleys rounded on us like a pair of angry wolverines.
"What is this?" growled Uncle Vernon. "What's going on?"
"They – they've tried to get here by Floo powder," said Harry breathlessly, fighting a mad desire to laugh. I bit down on my fist to keep from giggling. It was funny.
"They can travel by fire," I tried to explain. "Only you've blocked the fireplace - hang on-"
I approached the fireplace and banged on the boards once to quiet the Weasleys down enough for them to hear me.
The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the chimney piece said, "Shh!"
"Oi! Fred, George, can you hear me?" I called.
"We can hear you," Mr. Weasley replied. "Lorena, what's going on?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "The fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there."
"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley's voice. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"
"They've got an electric fire," I said, hoping to distract them before they insulted the Dursleys inadvertently. I didn't particularly care if they were offended, but I knew that Uncle Vernon would start tossing out his own insults if he got his dander up and I didn't really want to witness that. Not that I didn't think it would be hilarious, but I didn't want the Weasleys to have to go through it.
"Really?" said Mr. Weasley's voice excitedly. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that...Let's think...Ouch, Ron!"
"What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?" Ron had arrived.
"Oh no, Ron," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."
"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, whose voice sounded muffled, as though he was squashed against the wall.
"Boys, boys…" said Mr. Weasley vaguely. He probably knew that trying to wrangle the twins was setting himself up for failure. "I'm trying to think what to do...Yes...only way...Stand back, Lorena."
I retreated to the sofa. Harry joined me. Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward.
"Wait a moment!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to-"
"Back up!" Harry tried to warn half-heartedly, but it was too late.
The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys.
"That's better," panted Mr. Weasley, brushing dust from his long green robes and straightening his glasses. "Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!"
He moved toward Uncle Vernon, his hand outstretched, but Uncle Vernon backed away several paces, dragging Aunt Petunia. Words utterly failed Uncle Vernon. His best suit was covered in white dust, which had settled in his hair and mustache and made him look as though he had just aged thirty years.
"Er - yes - sorry about that," said Mr. Weasley, lowering his hand and looking over his shoulder at the blasted fireplace sheepishly. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry and Lorena. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."
"Bombarda?" I guessed, looking at the debris. Fred nodded as he and George knocked chippings off of themselves. "I'd have gone with a simple Relashio, that should have covered it."
The Dursleys were still gaping at Mr. Weasley, thunderstruck. Aunt Petunia staggered upright again and hid behind Uncle Vernon.
"Hello, Potters!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "Got your trunks ready?"
"They're upstairs," said Harry, grinning back.
"We'll get it," said Fred at once. Winking at me, he and George left the room. They knew where our bedroom was, having once rescued us from it in the dead of night. I suspected that Fred and George were hoping for a glimpse of Dudley; they had heard a lot about him from Harry and I.
"Well," said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very - erm - very nice place you've got here."
"Oh Merlin," I said faintly.
As the usually spotless living room was now covered in dust and bits of brick, this remark didn't go down too well with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon's face purpled once more, and Aunt Petunia started chewing her tongue again. However, they seemed too scared to actually say anything.
Mr. Weasley was looking around. He loved everything to do with Muggles. I could see him itching to go and examine the television and the video recorder.
"They run off eckeltricity, do they?" he said knowledgeably. "Ah yes, I can see the plugs. I collect plugs," he added to Uncle Vernon. "And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries. My wife thinks I'm mad, but there you are."
Uncle Vernon clearly thought Mr. Weasley was mad too. He moved ever so slightly to the right, screening Aunt Petunia from view, as though he thought Mr. Weasley might suddenly run at them and attack.
Dudley suddenly reappeared in the room. I could hear the clunk of trunks on the stairs, and guessed that the sounds had scared Dudley out of the kitchen. Dudley edged along the wall, gazing at Mr. Weasley with terrified eyes, and attempted to conceal himself behind his mother and father. Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon's bulk, while sufficient to hide bony Aunt Petunia, was nowhere near enough to conceal Dudley.
"Ah, this is your cousin, is it?" said Mr. Weasley, taking another brave stab at making conversation.
"Yep," said Harry, "that's Dudley."
He and Ron exchanged glances and then quickly looked away from each other; the temptation to burst out laughing was almost overwhelming. I was biting my tongue to stop myself from laughing at the Dursleys. Dudley was still clutching his bottom as though afraid it might fall off. Mr. Weasley, however, seemed genuinely concerned at Dudley's peculiar behavior. From the tone of his voice when he next spoke, Harry was quite sure that Mr. Weasley thought Dudley was quite as mad as the Dursleys thought he was, except that Mr. Weasley felt sympathy rather than fear.
"Having a good holiday, Dudley?" he said kindly.
Dudley whimpered and his hands tightened over his massive backside.
Fred and George came back into the room carrying Harry's school trunk and mine. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into identical evil grins. I knew those grins. Those grins had been the warning signs of some of their better pranks. They met my gaze, clearly asking permission to prank on my home turf. I responded with the tiniest nod of my head and their grins widened, eyes glinting with mischief. I settled in to watch the show.
"Ah, right," said Mr. Weasley. "Better get cracking then."
He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out his wand. The Dursleys drew back against the wall as one.
"Incendio!" said Mr. Weasley, pointing his wand at the hole in the wall behind him.
Flames rose at once in the fireplace, crackling merrily as though they had been burning for hours. Mr. Weasley took a small drawstring bag from his pocket, untied it, took a pinch of the powder inside, and threw it onto the flames, which turned emerald green and roared higher than ever.
"Off you go then, Fred," said Mr. Weasley.
"Coming," said Fred. "Oh no - hang on-"
A bag of sweets had spilled out of Fred's pocket and the contents were now rolling in every direction - big, fat toffees in brightly colored wrappers. My eyes lit up. Fred and George had been talking about a line of magical joke sweets, perfect for playing jokes on friends or snoops. It seemed they'd reached the testing stage for some of their ideas. I couldn't wait to see what the toffees did. If they worked, I might request a bag to leave on top of my trunk in the Slytherin dorms. That pig Parkinson could use a surprise to start the year off right.
Fred scrambled around, cramming them back into his pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave, stepped forward, and walked right into the fire with my trunk, saying "the Burrow!" Aunt Petunia gave a little shuddering gasp. There was a whooshing sound, and Fred vanished.
"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley, "you and the other trunk."
Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it better. Then, with a second whoosh, George had cried "the Burrow!" and vanished too.
"Ron, you next," said Mr. Weasley.
"See you," said Ron brightly to the Dursleys. He grinned broadly at Harry, then stepped into the fire, shouted "the Burrow!" and disappeared.
Now Harry and I remained with Mr. Weasley.
"Well...bye then," Harry said to the Dursleys.
They didn't say anything at all. Harry moved toward the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the hearth, Mr. Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He was looking at the Dursleys in amazement.
"Harry said good-bye to you," he said. "Didn't you hear him?"
"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. "Honestly, I don't care."
"They're glad to be shot of us, I expect," I said, moving to the fireplace and favoring the Dursleys with a dismissive glance. I was pleased to see Dudley fiddling with the paper of a brightly-wrapped sweet from the corner of my eye. No way was I missing this.
"You aren't going to see your nephew or niece till next summer," Mr. Weasley said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"
Uncle Vernon's face worked furiously. The idea of being taught consideration by a man who had just blasted away half his living room wall seemed to be causing him intense suffering. But Mr. Weasley's wand was still in his hand, and Uncle Vernon's tiny eyes darted to it once, before he said, very resentfully, "Good-bye, then."
"See you," said Harry, stepping into the fireplace. I joined him, putting one foot forward into the green flames, which felt pleasantly like a warm bath. At that moment, however, a horrible gagging sound erupted behind him, and Aunt Petunia started to scream.
Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, I realized that the foot-long thing was Dudley's tongue.
I couldn't help it. I doubled over laughing. Merlin bless those twins!
Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth. Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr. Weasley had to shout to make himself heard.
"Not to worry, I can sort him out!" he yelled, advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley.
"No, really!" said Mr. Weasley desperately. "It's a simple process. It was the toffee - my son Fred - real practical joker - but it's only an Engorgement Charm - at least, I think it is - please, I can correct it-"
But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became more panic- stricken. Aunt Petunia was sobbing hysterically, tugging Dudley's tongue as though determined to rip it out. Dudley appeared to be suffocating under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue. Uncle Vernon, who had lost control completely, seized a china figure from on top of the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr. Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to shatter in the blasted fireplace.
"Now really!" said Mr. Weasley angrily, brandishing his wand. "I'm trying to help!"
Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Uncle Vernon snatched up another ornament.
"Harry, Lorena, go! Just go!" Mr. Weasley shouted, his wand on Uncle Vernon. "I'll sort this out!"
"The Burrow!" Harry said, wrapping one arm around my waist to keep my upright for the trip as he used the other to toss the Floo Powder into the flames. I was still wheezing with laughter and I accidentally inhaled some ash as we spun off through the fireplaces.
When I felt us slowing down I got myself together, bracing myself. Harry threw up his hands to keep from toppling out of the fireplace but I went with the motion, letting myself stagger out and towards the twins, who were waiting for news of how their plan had gone with eager grins on their faces.
I wrapped one arm around each of them and pulled them into hugs.
"Marry me," I moaned. They hugged me back, chuckling.
"Which one of us?" they chorused.
"Both of you, I don't even care, that was bloody brilliant!" I praised, dropping a kiss onto each of their cheeks.
"So he ate it?" Fred asked eagerly, pulling away and looking at me for information.
"Oh, he ate it," Harry confirmed as he stepped from the fireplace. "What was that?"
"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer..."
I clutched George's arm eagerly. "A bag of them, I beg of you, I want to mine Puginson's trunk and school bag with them."
"For you, anything," George promised with a wink.
The kitchen was full of laughter. Looking around, I saw Ron seated at the scrubbed wooden table with two redheads I didn't know, but I could guess that they were Bill and Charlie, the only two Weasleys I'd never met.
"How're you doing, Harry?" said the nearer of the two, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook. That had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned. His arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.
Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand. He surprised me. He worked at Gringotts and he was Head Boy when he was at school. I had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. That couldn't have been farther from the truth though. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except his boots were made of dragon hide.
Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air at George's shoulder. I hadn't realized he was capable of getting that angry, but his face was as red as Ron's ears went when he was mad.
"That wasn't funny Fred!" he shouted. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"
"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with another evil grin. "I just dropped it...It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."
As a Slytherin, I appreciated the distinction. Mr. Weasley, however, most decidedly did not.
"You dropped it on purpose!" he roared. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet-"
"How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly.
"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"
The Potters and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.
"It isn't funny!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons-"
"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly.
"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. He turned to me. "Isn't he, Rena?"
The twins had earned the right to call me Rena my second year, when they went on a pranking spree against anyone who spoke out against Harry and I for being Parseltongues. Me, in particular, seeing as no one had had any idea that I was one too until I stood up on the Slytherin table one day at breakfast and hissed curses at them, telling them to lay off my brother.
"Git is too nice of a word," I backed them up.
"That's not the point!" raged Mr. Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother-"
"Tell me what?" said a voice behind them.
Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. "Oh hello Harry, Lorena dear," she said, spotting us and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. "Tell me what, Arthur?"
Mr. Weasley hesitated. However angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn't really intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then Ginny and Hermione appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. Both of them smiled at Harry and I. We grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet - she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow. Quite frankly, it was adorable, and I was completely on board with Harry dating her.
"Tell me what, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.
"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr. Weasley, "Fred and George just - but I've had words with them-"
"What have they done this time?" said Mrs. Weasley in exasperation. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes-"
"Why don't we show Harry and Lorena where they're sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway.
"They know where they're sleeping," said Ron, "in my room and Ginny's, just like last-"
"We can all go," said Hermione pointedly.
"Oh," said Ron, cottoning on. I rolled my eyes. "Right."
"Yeah, we'll come too," said George.
"You stay where you are!" snarled Mrs. Weasley. She might as well have put the twins in a Full Body-Bind, they froze so quickly. Harry and I edged out of the kitchen with Ron, and the lot of us set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories.
"What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked as we climbed.
Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione didn't.
"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron quietly. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that..."
"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things," said Ginny, sounding impressed. "We thought they just liked the noise."
"Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous," admitted Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms...She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected."
"Brilliant," I whispered. "I'll take two of everything, I've got to tell them…"
Hermione gave me a stern look, which I ignored, too busy caught up imagining the torture I could inflict on people like Parkinson, Malfoy, Bulstrode, Montague, that Ravenclaw git who'd hexed Lily in the hall last year… The list went on and on really. My shit list was extensive, which probably said something not-very-nice about me.
"And then there was this big row," Ginny continued, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop."
A door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.
"Hi, Percy," said Harry.
"Oh hello, Harry, Lorena," greeted Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office - and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs."
"And if we see anyone thundering we will definitely tell them off for you," I said saccharinely. "Wouldn't want you disturbed."
"What are you working on?" asked Harry. I could have smacked him. Now we'd have to listen to Percy more, and he was undoubtedly my least favorite Weasley.
"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year-"
"That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron sarcastically. "Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks."
"Or people can just learn how to brew potions correctly so that they don't eat into the bottom of a cauldron." I scoffed. "So long as people clean their cauldrons out right after brewing, nothing should happen."
Percy went slightly pink. "You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger-"
I noticed Percy didn't say anything against me. I didn't blame him. His last year at Hogwarts he'd caught me out and about after hours and gave me a detention with Filch and docked Slytherin points. The next day he'd spent staggering around drunkenly, not realizing his glasses had been dipped in a potion consisting mostly of Firewhiskey that he was slowly absorbing through his skin.
The world really should fear my evil genius.
"Yeah, yeah, all right," said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. Percy slammed his bedroom door shut. As Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and I followed Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley about the toffees.
The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had the last time that Harry and I had come to stay, except now Scabbers had been replaced by the tiny gray owl that had delivered Ron's letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.
"Shut up, Pig," said Ron, edging his way between two of the four beds that had been squeezed into the room. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," he told Harry. "Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work."
"Thankfully, we've only got three in our room," Ginny said to me. "Mum about went spare trying to fit everyone in."
"Why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron.
"Because he's being stupid," Ginny chimed in. "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."
"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," he explained. "She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."
"It is sweet, right?" Ginny demanded of me. I saw Hermione frantically nodding at me from behind Ginny, but I didn't need her help. I may be a year older than Ginny and one of the best duelers in our year, but I had quite a bit of respect for Ginny and her jinxes. That was why she'd never woken up and found that her shampoo dyed her hair purple.
"Really unique," I approved. Hermione sighed in relief and Ginny seemed appeased.
"Where's Crookshanks?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Out in the garden, I expect," she said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before."
"Percy's enjoying work, then?" said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling. I dropped down next to him on my stomach and stretched out with a yawn. I'd been too excited to sleep much last night.
"Enjoying it?" said Ron darkly. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. 'According to Mr. Crouch...' 'As I was saying to Mr. Crouch…' 'Mr. Crouch is of the opinion...' 'Mr. Crouch was telling me...' They'll be announcing their engagement any day now."
"Sounds about like Percy," I agreed.
"Have you had a good summer, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Did you get our food parcels and everything?"
"Yeah, thanks a lot. They saved my life, those cakes," Harry gushed. I scowled and flicked him in the arm.
"Last time I take you out for ice cream, ungrateful prat," I grumbled.
"That's right, you got a job!" Hermione said, looking pleased. "How's that going?"
"Great," I said honestly. "My boss, Amity Raincrow, is great. Didn't even mind about me running off. Granted, she's a sharp lady, she figured out pretty quickly I didn't want to be around the Dursleys and why. 'Course, they've been better since we told them that the 'escaped mass-murderer Sirius Black' they'd been seeing on the television was our godfather," I said with a smirk.
"Have you heard from-?" Ron began, but a look from Hermione shut him up, and for good reason. Ginny had no idea that we were part of the reason Sirius was a free man, or that he was in contact with us. She didn't even know he was innocent.
"I think they've stopped arguing," said Hermione, to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry. "Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?"
"Yeah, all right," said Ron. We left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.
"We're eating out in the garden," she said when we came in. "There's just not room for twelve people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.
"Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. "Those two!" she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard. "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can..."
Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred.
"It's not as though they haven't got brains," she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, "but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office."
Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Harry and Ron both jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.
"I don't know where we went wrong with them," said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. "It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to - OH NOT AGAIN!"
She had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse.
"One of their fake wands again!" she shouted. "How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?"
She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking.
"Run for it," Ginny advised, grabbing the plates and distributing them to Hermione and I to carry. We abandoned Harry and Ron to Mrs. Weasley's rant as we escaped out the back.
A very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as we entered the garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny and I dissolved into laughter, and Hermione was hovered near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.
Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and we all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a window on the second floor.
"Will you keep it down?!" he bellowed.
"Sorry, Perce," said Bill, grinning. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"
"Very badly," said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.
By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and I were settling ourselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky.
I listened more than talked for the first part of dinner. I'd seated myself between the twins, with Harry on Fred's other side. They were listing off some of the products they'd come up with and what they did. I was listening intently and nodding as I stuffed my face with chicken and mashed potatoes, already planning on being the first in line to order.
At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.
"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, it's extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -"
"I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley mildly. "He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over."
"Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department...when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"
"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried..."
"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," Percy agreed dismissively. "I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth...but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However-" Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine "-we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup."
Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were sitting with Ginny and the twins. "You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one.'
Fred rolled his eyes. "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons." I snorted into my gravy.
"Best thing to do is not ask."
"Agreed," George and Fred chorused. We clinked forks in agreement and tucked into our food.
In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.
"...with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"
"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," Bill explained patiently.
"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. "I wish you'd let me give it a trim..."
"I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's..."
Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup.
"It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."
"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," Fred countered.
"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," Charlie said shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."
"What happened?" said Harry eagerly. I leaned in to listen too. To be honest, I hadn't even known who was playing in the World Cup. All I knew was that I wanted to go. I was nowhere near as obsessed with Quidditch as the guys were, but I was still interested and I loved the sport.
"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," recalled Charlie gloomily. "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."
I was incredulous. "How do you lose to Luxembourg? Do they even have enough people for a team?"
Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before we had our homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time we had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as I lay on a bench with my head on Harry's lap and my feet on Ron's, who hadn't so much as blinked when I laid down on him. Came from having siblings of his own, I guessed, although I hadn't ever seen any of the Weasley siblings be quite as tactile as Harry and I tended to be.
Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said very quietly, "So - have you heard from Sirius lately?"
Hermione looked around, listening closely.
"Yeah," said Harry softly, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here."
I snickered slightly. "He's the reason we got to come. The Dursleys have been terrified this summer, convinced that the moment they tick us off we'll summon our own personal hitman to murder them."
"Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Twins, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."
"Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically.
"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."
"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" retorted Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Harry and I as we got up and headed in to bed. "We sent it."