A/N: ALL OF THIS BUT THE "PLOT" BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING.
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Chapter TWO: To the Burrow

Harry sent Hedwig off late the next morning when he awoke, sorry to see her go because of her
short stay. He watched sadly at the progress Sirius' letter made into the sky . . . . it got smaller
and smaller as his owl flew into the distance. He would only send one letter now; Hermione's
would have to wait, and Pig would depart later, after Harry had asked Uncle
Vernon about going to the Burrow.

When he went down to the breakfast table he was not surprised to be ignored by everyone.
Aunt Petunia served him his one banana and three grapes with a snivel, still upset about last
night. Dudley was entranced with the television and Uncle Vernon had his face hidden in the
depths of the morning newspaper. Harry decided to eat first rather than to ask his question, as
he was sure he wouldn't get much of an answer. He picked up a grape and popped it into his
mouth, then watched Dudley out of pure boredom. The piggy boy had a monumental heap of fruit
on his plate and was stuffing it into his mouth like he had never eaten before. Harry gagged
slightly as he observed a banana and a half being turned to mash in Dudley's mouth.

Two grapes and a banana later, Harry cleared his throat. "Er . . . . Uncle Vernon?"

The newspaper gave a twitch and a grunt issued from its recesses to let Harry know that
the man was listening.

"Er . . . . I wanted to know if I could stay the rest of the summer at my friend Ron
Weasley's house. That way you wouldn't have to take me to get my things for school."

Uncle Vernon's paper came down and his red face appeared, his mustache quivering
with unpleasant twitches. "Do you think that I will actually allow you to be picked up by those maniacs,"
– Dudley was looking up evilly now – "the way you were last year? If they try to come into this
house one more time . . . No, absolutely not!"

Harry saw this was going to be a little more difficult than he had thought. He tried his
best defense. "All right," he said, "I'll just be up writing to my godfather to tell him about your
decision . . . You know, see what he thinks of it and all . . . . "

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" roared Uncle Vernon as he sprang from his chair and
blocked the doorway. But then he swallowed and lowered his voice a little, wincing from the
sacrifice he was about to make. "I suppose I could drive you to their house. But I'll need
directions for normal people to follow. Not some kooky way that doesn't exist, check that? Now,
you go write to your little friend and tell him that I'll take care of the transportation.
You'll be there Thursday afternoon and the time will depend upon how long it takes to get to
the house. Now scoot!"

Harry sprinted upstairs, thinking that when Fred and George got hold that Uncle Vernon
was coming for a "visit", they'd feel like their birthday had come early. He grabbed his letter
to Ron, ready to write a P.S. when he heard loud wails issuing from the kitchen. He opened his
bedroom door and stuck his head out, trying to catch a snippet of what was going on. Harry
strained his ears hard, as the kitchen door was closed, and finally grasped some muffled speech.

"Muuum! Don't make me go to that loony bin! They'll give me antlers or something! DO YOU
HEAR ME? THEY'LL GIVE ME ANTLERS! DO YOU WANT YOUR SON TO LOOK LIKE A
REINDEER FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE? ANTLERS, I TELL YOU!"

Harry began to snicker uncontrollably. He silently shut his door and went over to his
desk, almost bent double with laughter. Now Dudley was coming? And Aunt Petunia wouldn't let
her "Ickle Duddy Poo" go anywhere without her except to school! The Weasleys would have a field
day!

Harry finished his letter to Ron with a flourish and tied it to Pig's minute leg,
carrying the excited bird to the window. He gave the owl a little nudge to set him flying, then
let himself collapse on his bed, daydreaming about what would happen to the Dursleys when they
showed their faces at the Burrow. Harry would give them an impression to last over the winter,
then happily spend the rest of his holiday on his broomstick with his friends.

His mind wandered and he thought about other things . . . Dobby and Winky the house-
elves,Dumbledore, Sirius, and . . . . . Cho. How would she treat him after Cedric's death? Would
she still be as kind, and smart, and pretty, and extraordinarily good at Quidditch, and thoughtful,
and sensitive, and – Harry stopped himself. That was all well and good, but what if she really did
think that he had purposely not protected Cedric? What if she never talked to him again? What
if she blamed him for what had happened? What if . . . . . . ?

Harry rolled over onto his stomach and tried to blot out the night the Death Eaters had
almost killed him, the night that he had seen his parents as wisps of smoke, the night Cedric
had died. He attempted to turn Voldemort's ugly, snake-like face into thin air, but haunting
visions of the wizard forming back into his full body kept returning to Harry's mind's eye.
His scar had burnt a few times over the summer, but not enough to make it actually hurt. He
thought about how Voldemort was getting stronger probably at this very moment. How soon would
it take for the Muggle killings to start? How much time would elapse before the Malfoy family
and many others announced their return to the Dark Side? And how much longer would Albus
Dumbledore be around to protect the world? If Dumbledore was gone, there would be nothing left
on earth to even believe in, Harry thought. The professor was the most powerful wizard in the
world, the only reason that Good still conquered over Evil. But if he was getting older, who
would take his place? . . . . .

Harry got up from his bed, wanting to do something to take his mind off worry. He opened
his door and went downstairs, looking for Aunt Petunia. He was going to volunteer to do some
yard work, as long as he didn't have to clean up afterward.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%


Dust rolled in like fine snow through Harry's open car window, making him choke, and he pulled
up his shirt collar. He and the Dursleys were on their way to Ottery St. Catchpole, and the
three family members were breathing through handkerchiefs, although they had "forgotten" one
for Harry. The air conditioner had broken down about a week ago and everyone was exceptionally
hot, although Dudley had a fan that ran on batteries.

Harry squinted out into the dusty, heat-baked road, looking for the little town. Nothing.
The air was billowing with heat waves and it looked as though this part of the country hadn't
gotten rain for a long time. He sat back, miserably smothered under the temperature of his
shirt.

About thirty minutes later they rattled into Ottery St. Catchpole, and Harry leaned
forward again, excitement flooding him. It wouldn't be long now, there was Stoatshead Hill . . . . .
the car passed through the village . . . . . . they were turning off the main road . . . . . down the
drive . . . . . there was the Burrow!

"What is this pile of rubbish? Not where they live, I hope," sneered Uncle Vernon, a
wicked smile on his face. "Well, have a wonderful time, boy."

"Wait," said Harry, opening the car door and trying to think of an excuse for the Dursleys
to have to come inside. "You had better go see Mrs. Weasley. I think she'll want to give you
some money for driving me here." The chances of the Weasleys giving even spare change for
something like this was almost impossible, but Uncle Vernon didn't know that, so Harry went on.
"You know, she feels awful that you had to take the time to come to the Burrow."

"Well, I suppose," said Uncle Vernon, his expression changing as Harry heaved his trunk
and Hedwig's cage out of the back. "Come on Dudders," he continued, "I want you to see that
there is nothing to be afraid of because I'm here. Your father isn't scared of anything!" Dudley
cowered in his seat though, so Uncle Vernon puffed out his chest and grabbed his son'swrist, trying
to force the boy out of the car.

It took Uncle Vernon pulling and Aunt Petunia pushing to get Dudley to leave the safety
of the vehicle, and he was sending up a squall through every bit of it. By the time that that
had been accomplished, Harry had dragged his trunk up to the doorstep and was leaning against
the wall of the house, watching. Suddenly a whisper came from the other side of the garden
barrier.

"Harry!" it said, and he saw a shock of red hair bobbing just over the edge. Harry smirked
and went into the garden. Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny were all crouching behind the stone
fence, hiding. Harry immediately stooped also. Then Fred spoke, a grin covering his entire face.
"Harry, Mum asked us to de-gnome the garden . . . . . We thought it might be more fun this way."

Harry's eyes widened, then narrowed with a mischievous aspect. He sniggered and quietly
complimented the twins on their idea, just as the three Muggles reached Harry's trunk, Dudley
covering his bottom with his hands and whimpering like a little puppy.

"Ready?" whispered Ron, a rare wicked smile on his face. Harry nodded and picked up a
gnome that was trying to smuggle a carrot.

"GO!!!"

The Dursleys turned, their looks of surprise becoming immense terror when they saw what
was happening. The Weasleys and Harry were lined up against the garden wall, their facial
displays full of contempt, each with a gnome in their hand. Suddenly the their arm muscles
seemed to work, and the Dursleys were pelted head-on with a multitude of flying gnomes. Mrs.
Dursley started squawking and screeching like a crow and a banshee at the same time and tried to
half gallop, half jump to the cover of the car, while Dudley began wobbling around in circles,
shrieking nothing discernable but gibberish, his face resembling a frog with abnormally large
eyes.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING BOY?" bellowed Uncle Vernon, his face turning to a dark shade
of plum. He dove over the stone wall and tried to tackle Harry, but not before he was pummeled with
gnomes and fell to the ground, face in the earth.

Harry and Ron were trying to throw the creatures but were laughing so hard that they had
to grab the support of the fence. Ginny was aiming for Aunt Petunia and Fred and George were
swinging the gnomes over their heads like lassos, then throwing full-fledged at Dudley, who, by
this time, had gnomes hanging from three of his chins, one of his ears, and his rear-end.

Uncle Vernon, still lying in the dirt, made a grab for Harry but stopped suddenly. He held
up his finger and looked at it, then screwed up his face into a squished purple mess and began
to bawl loudly. A gnome was hanging by its teeth from his hand, hissing its speech as its mouth
was full.

"'Ey, don' you efer squaf me agin, you bombuf pig!" it hissed

This made Uncle Vernon howl with even more volume and get up, dancing around the garden in
pain."IT BIT ME! THE BLOODY THING BIT ME! GET IT OFF!" He ripped the gnome from his finger
and dropped it, then tore through the garden, spraying a plot of radishes in the air as he turned
the corner as fast as his bulky form could go. Dudley was still clomping in circles like an
insane maniac, spit and warbling nonsense dribbling from his mouth. As Uncle Vernon dashed past
him, he grabbed his son's lardy wrist and tugged him into a productive motion toward the car.

As the auto turned around to leave Uncle Vernon stuck his head out the window and bellowed
at the top of his lungs, "YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DID THAT, POTTER! NEXT SUMMER YOU'LL
WORK LIKE A – ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

Fred had chucked one final gnome and hit Uncle Vernon square on the head. After that the
man rolled up his window, screeching the tires of the car as he left.

"Well, that was a spot of fun, wasn't it, boys?" said George, primping his hair as if it
had been mussed up by the activity. "Off to the kitchen then!"

When they entered the house they were not greeted by cheers, however. Mrs. Weasley came
shrieking in on them, adding a, "Hello, Harry dear." rather rapidly, then went roaring off into
a lecture about playing jokes on Muggles.

" – and your father trying to be the Minister of Magic and all! Muggles are defenseless. You
know very well that it isn't right to do what you did!"

"But Mum, Harry isn't happy with them; they were mean!" put in Ron, trying to defend the
group's actions.

"That's no excuse for you to be playing tricks!" she said. "And I'm sure that Dudley is
off his eating restriction, isn't he Harry?"

"Actually he's still on his diet, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her quietly. As it had the
year before, this pacified Ron's mother and she used magic to carry Harry's trunk up the stairs
instead of making him haul it.

"You poor dear, not getting enough food! What I would like to know is how they could do
that to somebody? Starve you and make you work? Really . . . . "

"It isn't that horrible, Mrs. Weasley. I mean I got – Ow!"

Ron had elbowed him in the ribs, murmuring, "You're not helping our story," in a hushed
enough tone for his mother not to hear.

"Well anyway Mum, we'll be going now," said Fred and George, who had side-stepped over to
the rickety staircase in an inconspicuous manner, only halting to say their line before hurtling
up the steps.

"I don't think so, boys!" she said, her voice rising again and carrying up to the twins
who were halfway through the first flight of steps. "I have a hunch that it was your idea to
'de-gnome' the garden in such a manner."

Fred's voice sounded shocked from up the stairs. "Mum! How could you even think of
accusing us? It's perfectly plain that it was Ginny!"

"What?!" cried Ginny. "It was not!"

"Quiet down, Ginny, I know it wasn't you," soothed Mrs. Weasley. "Now I want all of you,
except for Harry, to go outside and at least finish the de-gnoming. He's going to be fed."

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I'll help," he said, not liking that he got out of the situation the
easy way. "I was just as bad as they were. And they only attacked the Dursleys because I don't
like them."

"Harry, you're a guest."

"That doesn't make a difference," he said, then turned to be the first one to head for the
door into the fiery day outside.

"I'll have something for you to eat when you're finished!" she called after him.

Harry really didn't mind de-gnoming the garden. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. Competitions
began and Harry challenged George to see how far they could each throw their gnome. He beat
George by about five feet and before he knew it, the task was over. The group went inside,
wiping their brows.

Ginny, Fred and George went upstairs immediately, but Harry and Ron stayed in the kitchen,
Harry gulping down one slice of custard pie after another. They talked about his chances of
becoming Quidditch captain, and, like Hermione, Ron thought that Harry would make it.

"We'll practice a lot too," said Ron, grinning. "Not that you'll need it."

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. He had many good days at the Burrow to look forward to,
and wasn't going to waste any of them worrying about anything besides having fun. A week later,
however, it did cross his mind that Hedwig still hadn't come back from delivering his letter to
Sirius.
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A/N: SORRY ABOUT THE GRAMATICAL ERRORS, HOW SHORT IT IS, AND HOW IT TOOK
SO LONG TO GET UP BUT I REALLY DIDN'T HAVE TIME. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!