"R-Ron?!" breathed Arabella sharply, creeping carefully up to the window so the two could talk better. "Ron, how did you— What the— ?"

Lyla inhaled sharply as she gazed at her friend with rapture. Arabella's mouth had fallen into a circle of surprise as the full impact of what she was seeing hit her. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in midair. Grinning at them from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers.

"You doing well this summer?" asked George as if asking for the daily weather report.

"What's been going on?" asked Ron urgently. "Why haven't you two been answering any of my letters? Come to think of it, Daphne and Hermione were wondering the same thing. I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles—"

"It wasn't us—" said Lyla hotly.

"How did he know?" asked Arabella.

"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You know we're not supposed to do spells outside school—"

"You should talk," sniffed Lyla, glaring at the floating car.

"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron grinning. "We're only borrowing this. It's Dad's, we didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with—"

"I told you, we didn't!" exclaimed Lyla in anger. "It'll take too long to explain now—"

"Can you tell them at Hogwarts that we've been locked up?" asked Arabella pleadingly. "We obviously can't magic ourselves out, because the Ministry will think that's the second spell we've cast in three days, so—"

"Oh, do stop gibbering," said Fred from the driver's seat. "We've come to take you home with us."

"But you— you can't magic us out either—"

"We don't need to," said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. "You forget who I've got with me."

"Tie that around the bars, Lyla," instructed George, throwing the end of a rope to the shocked sisters.

"If mum and dad wake up, we're dead," whispered Arabella fearfully, watching as Lyla did as she was told. This wasn't quite the way they'd imagined getting out of this, but it was what they had. Once secure rightly around a bar, Fred revved up the car.

"Don't worry," said Fred with a wink, "and stand back."

Both sisters moved back into the shadows of their room. Merlin and Nicolas had both woken from sleep and stared eagerly, keeping silent as if knowing just how important this moment was. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a horrible crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Gasping loudly, Lyla darted back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car. Arabella listened anxiously, but there was no sound from her parent's bedroom.

When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed as close as possible to the window.

"Get in," Ron said, holding his hand out.

"But all my Hogwarts stuff—" began Lyla, glancing back at the mess that was their room.

"Well then, better hurry up and pack," suggested Fred. "We haven't got all night."

Both sisters began to scramble around frantically, pulling their trunks free from under their bed and throwing whatever they could get their hands on into them. Clamping them closed ten minutes later, Ron and the Weasley twins helped slide them into the trunk of the car.

"Okay, let's go," Fred whispered.

Arabella climbed onto the windowsill and slipped into the car beside Ron. As Lyla crept forward, sudden screeches filled the air, followed immediately by the thunderous voice of their father

"THOSE RUDDY OWLS!"

Lyla tore back across the room as the landing light clicked on— she snatched up both owl cages, dashed to the window, and passed them hurriedly out to Ron. She was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Vernon Dursley hammered on the locked door.

"SHUT THOSE DAMN BIRDS UP OR YOU WILL BE MISSING BREAKFAST IN THE MORNING!"

Diving into the back seat, Fred revved the car's engine and the car jumped forward with a great explosion. The last image of Privet Drive was the door bursting open to display a bellowing Vernon and a crying Petunia.

Lyla only waved while Arabella shook her head. The Weasley clan roared with laughter and soon the sisters settled back into their seats, grinning from ear to ear.

"Let Merlin and Nicolas out," Arabella told Ron. "They can fly behind us. They've been locked away all summer.

George handed a battered-looking hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, both owls soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like ghosts.

"So— what's the story?" asked Ron curiously. "What's been happening?"

Lyla, who still felt adrenaline flowing through her veins, explained the situation with the weird house elf and the warning he'd given, which later resulted in the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence when she 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 Arabella with a small yawn. "Lyla told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."

She caught Fred and George looking at each other.

"What, you think he was lying to me?" asked Lyla defensively. "Why would he do that?"

"Well," said Fred carefully, "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 from coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke, maybe. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"

"Yes," said Arabella, Lyla, and Ron together, instantly.

"Pansy Parkinson," Ron explained. "She's hated Arabella and Lyla since the first interaction."

"Pansy Parkinson" mused George thoughtfully, "isn't that Aldrich Parkinson's daughter?

"Must be," sighed Arabella. "Why? What's about her father?"

"I've heard Dad talking about him," said George darkly. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at the sister's, "Aldrich came back saying he'd never meant any of it. A load of dung— Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle, alongside the Malfoy's and a few others."

Lyla shared a surprised glance with Arabella before turning forward again.

"I don't know whether Pansy's family owns a house-elf…" said Lyla miserably.

"Well, whoever owns him will be an old Wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred knowingly.

"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George dreamily. "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…"

The sisters remained silent. Judging by the fact that Pansy Parkinson usually had the best of everything, her family was most likely rolling in wizard gold. It seemed quite fitting if her family owned a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop the Potter girls from going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing she would do.

"Well, I'm glad we came to get you," said Ron, flushing slightly. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first—"

"Who?"

"Our family owl," said Fred with a snort. "He's absolutely ancient."

"It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery," said George with a shrug,

"So then," cut in Ron, looking irritated at having been interrupted, "I tried to borrow Hermes—"

"Who?"

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made Prefect," said Fred from the front.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron grumpily. "Said he needed him."

"Percy's been acting quite oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time in his room… I mean, there are only so many times you can polish a Prefect badge… You're driving too far west, Fred," he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Fred twiddled the steering wheel.

"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" said Arabella, guessing the answer.

"Uh, no," said Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully, we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."

"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?" asked Lyla.

"He works in the most boring department," said Ron with a sigh. "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 antique shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friend's tea in it. It was a nightmare— Dad was working overtime for weeks."

"Oh? What happened?" said Arabella curiously.

"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," he said cheerily. "Our shed's full of Muggle stuff, you see. 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 Lyla saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.

"We're a little way outside the village," informed 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 the sisters looked out for the first time at the Weasley home.

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 were held up by magic (which it most likely 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 Lyla happily, thinking of Privet Drive in all its uniform and neatness.

"Now, up the stairs really quietly," said Fred, gesturing up the stairs, "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 them and no one needs ever know we flew the car."

"Right," said Ron. "Come on, you two. Fred and George cleared out their rooms for you."

Fred had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The others 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.

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