Life at the Burrow went on, even though there was no news of Charlie or Mr
Weasley for several days, and Mrs Weasley, Harry thought, was becoming
slightly hysterical. So everyone welcomed the owl sent by Bill saying that
he would be coming home soon: change - any change - was good.
One evening, Mrs Weasley announced that everyone would be going to Diagon Alley the next day, since the letters from Hogwarts had arrived and they needed all kinds of new material. Harry had read his letter earlier that day, and had been surprised at the amount of Defence Against the Dark Arts material and books they needed. He guessed this was probably one of Dumbledore's initiatives after Voldemort's return, and wondered how the students' parents would react.
Percy, apparently, disapproved highly of Dumbledore's decision. Whenever he was home, he would complain about the howlers they had been receiving at the Ministry concerning the subject, as he did that evening:
"A very unwise and inconsiderate decision, taken even after Mr Fudge himself specified not to change anything in the way the school functioned! And we're the ones who have to put up with the consequences, too! I don't think he even realises that he's way out of line."
Ron rolled his eyes, and George exclaimed, upset:
"Percy? Just shut up, will you?"
"It's Professor Dumbledore you're talking about, sweetheart," intervened Mrs Weasley calmly. "Now, I like to think he's usually very aware of his actions, and that a respected wizard such as him doesn't 'step out of line' for no good reason."
"There's no reason good enough to disregard the Ministry's orders," said Percy in a miffed tone. Fred looked at Harry in a way that showed very clearly he thought Percy's case was hopeless.
The next morning, Harry, Ron, and the twins were getting ready to leave when Ginny informed them that Charlie and Mr Weasley were back at last. Everyone rushed down to the living room, where Mr Weasley was slumping down in a armchair and Charlie lying on the couch. They were in a very sad state indeed: they both looked exhausted and shocked, Charlie's robes were torn, and Mr Weasley had a black eye.
"Muggles were getting out of hand," he was explaining to an anxious Mrs Weasley, who was hurrying back and forth between the kitchen and her husband and son, this time coming back with two cups of strong tea.
"One in particular, he put up a fight!" added Mr Weasley, pointing at his black eye. "Seemed to understand we were going to modify his memory."
"Getting all those poor tourists back in one piece was also far from easy," said Charlie with a grimace, massaging his head. "It took us a couple of days to round up all the body parts. The Italians were so angry, they kept cursing us when we had our backs turned - well, those who had their hands, anyway - until finally we had to take their wands away from them. Another thing their Minister's going to complain about..." he finished with a sigh.
Harry was wondering what it would feel like to have part of your body in one place and the rest of it in another when he was distracted by Fred, who was muttering in George's ear something about wishing Percy splinched himself and left his head at work so that they wouldn't have to put up with it.
"How dare you say things like that?" said Mrs Weasley indignantly, as Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and even Charlie all started laughing (Mr Weasley could only allow himself to emit a small chuckle). "Splinching is a very painful experience! I'd like to think you would never want that to happen to anybody, especially not your brother!"
"Oh, no! Of course not! Especially not to perfect Percy..." said George sarcastically.
"Now," continued Mrs Weasley, ignoring George's last remark, "your father and Charlie need some rest. Why don't you go outside? We won't be going to Diagon Alley until this afternoon - I'd rather stay here a while now that you two are back," she told her husband and Charlie, pushing everyone else towards the door and closing it behind them.
"Well then, how about a game of Quidditch, Harry?" Ron asked. "Fred and George can play against us."
"You sure that's safe?" asked Harry, remembering the way the twins had almost made Ron fall off his broom.
"Oh come on, now, Harry!" said Fred, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Of course it's safe!"
"We'll only play with the Quaffle," added George reassuringly.
"O - Ok!" stuttered Harry, trying to free himself from Fred's grip. "Let me go grab my broom first."
"That's right, Harry. You go get your broom and we'll get ours."
There was something in the twins' tone of voice that made Harry feel very uncomfortable about going up in the air with them.
Five minutes later Harry was down in the kitchen, where Ron, Fred, and George were waiting for him. They were all filling their pockets with sweets coming from a bowl on the table.
" 'Arry!" said Ron through a mouthful of something very gooey and multi- coloured. "You 'ave to tashte theje!"
The twins both nodded in approval and handed Harry a few of the sweets.
"Definitely, Harry, try them: there mum's speciality!"
Harry eyed the toffees suspiciously, as he was use enough to Fred and George's jokes by now to know that anything you touched or ate at the Burrow could be dangerous. His scepticism must have shown on his face, because Ginny, who came into the kitchen right at that moment, giggled and told him:
"Don't worry, Harry. Mum just barely finished making them: I don't think Fred or George have had the time to hex them, yet."
Ron grinned, or tried to grin, anyway: his mouth was so full that bits and pieces of chewed toffee flew all over the kitchen as he let out a chortle. Everyone laughed at this, and Harry, reassured, grabbed a handful of sweets.
Harry and Ron teamed up against Fred and George, both sides trying to score in an empty barrel bewitched to float in mid-air, with the Weasley's very old, battered Quaffle. Ron evidently had less experience in playing Quidditch than the other three: Fred and George easily stole the Quaffle from him, and more than once he had trouble keeping his broom steady after one of the twins came zooming very close to him. Harry grinned and couldn't keep from laughing at the look of terror on Ron's face every time Fred or George came near him; the twins certainly were practical jokers, but they weren't that bad, Harry thought, as he reached into his pocket for one of Mrs Weasley's sweets.
He was however immediately proved wrong: as soon as he had swallowed the toffee, his tongue started to feel numb, and his throat unusually tight. He felt like he might throw up and clapped his hand to his mouth, but there was no way he could stop whatever was coming. Half a second later something huge, viscous, and purple burst out of his mouth, and Harry immediately realised what had happened: Fred and George must have sneaked in some Ton- Tongue Toffees in the bowl of sweets on the table. His suspicions were confirmed as they both exploded with laughter at the sight of Harry and his over-size tongue. Ron, on the other hand, was surprised at first, and for a short moment looked as though he might laugh too, but instead decided to be angry at the twins and started yelling at them. Harry made a mental note to do the same as soon as he could talk again, but for the moment being, he wasn't even listening at what Ron was saying: he was far too busy trying to keep his balance and avoid suffocating.
Unfortunately, even being an excellent flier, it's very difficult indeed to stay up in the air when your tongue is over six feet long and dangling to the side of your broom. Harry did the best he could to keep upright, but despite all his efforts, the weight of his now massive tongue kept pulling him to the ground, until finally he couldn't control his firebolt anymore, started nose-diving, and crashed straight into a huge thorn bush.
It took him a few seconds to come back to his senses, and when he did, the first thing he took conscience of was considerable pain. Every inch of his body was aching and stinging and his tongue was entangled in the thorns. He then heard panicked voices coming in his direction, and the next second Fred and George were pulling him out of the bush and sitting him on the ground, not looking remotely amused anymore.
"Harry! Are you okay?" Ron gasped. He was shaking from head to toe.
Harry tried to say something but there only came an odd, muffled sound from his mouth, so he shook his head instead.
"Really sorry about that!" said Fred, who was rather pale. "Didn't mean for that to happen..."
"Well of course you didn't mean it, but you still did it!" said Ron angrily.
"We reckoned he would eat it before we took off!" explained George defensively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, we weren't even sure he'd taken one."
"You mean there are more in the bowl?" said Ron in an exasperated tone before taking his sweets out of his pocket and hastily throwing them away.
Harry was in too much danger of suffocating - not to mention the fact that he felt like every single bone in his body had shattered - to listen to Ron, Fred, and George argue very long. What he wanted more than anything else right now was for his tongue to be back to normal. He grabbed Ron's attention by kicking him in the shin, and pointed at his swollen tongue lying on the ground at his feet. Ron seemed to get the message and turned towards the twins.
"Okay, you two: fix it!" he snapped.
Fred and George looked very embarrassed indeed. They glanced at each other before stuttering:
"Well... er... we don't - we don't really know..."
"Well, you see, we've never actually learned the counter-curse..."
"Oh now that's clever!" sneered Ron, sounding extraordinarily like Hermione.
Harry stared at the twins in disbelief: they didn't even know the counter- curse to one of their own jokes? It was simply an Engorgement Charm - Mr Weasley had said so before. Remembering Dumbledore's lessons, he desperately tried to explain to Ron and the twins that all they had to do was say 'Reducio' and his tongue would be back to its normal size, or at least tried to make them understand, but by now they had all started quarrelling again, so it was no use.
Harry finally fell over on the ground because of all the extra weight his swollen tongue burdened him with, and at that moment Ron, Fred and George agreed at last that the only thing to do was to take him to Mrs Weasley, even if it meant a heavy scolding for the twins - which Harry, for once, thought they deserved. So Harry, scratched and bruised, made his way back to the house, with Ron helping him walk and Fred and George carrying his over-size tongue in front of him.
The Ton-Tongue Toffee misadventure owed Fred and George the longest scolding Harry had ever witnessed. Once she had fixed Harry's tongue and made sure he didn't have any broken bones, Mrs Weasley rounded on the twins and shouted at them so loudly and fiercely, Harry thought she might as well have sent them a Howler. She was waving her wand carelessly in the air, threatening them with all sorts of curses, and in her fury, it accidentally emitted jets of red sparks that rebounded on the walls, brushed the top of Fred's head and narrowly missed George's ear. Harry and Ron fled the kitchen and Mrs Weasley's shrieks and went upstairs to Ron's bedroom. Harry had to change his clothes, as he was now covered with dirt, thorns, and blood. As he rummaged in his trunk to find clean clothes, he came across a letter Sirius had written to him the year before. Harry suspected Sirius had been somewhere in Africa when he had written this letter - he was in hiding back then, but he was also tranquil, he was safe. Safe. A lump came to Harry's throat when he realized it had now been over three weeks since Sirius had left and that he had still not received any news from him or Dumbledore saying when he would be coming back, and if he was all right. Harry stared at the letter blankly for a few seconds, and started when he heard Ron's voice over his shoulder:
"You know, you still haven't asked Dad about him," said Ron, pointing at the letter. "I'm sure he knows something. I mean, he's working with Dumbledore - he's bound to know what kind of mission Sirius is on."
"Yeah... Maybe..." muttered Harry, throwing the letter back in the trunk and grabbing a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. "D'you reckon I can go and talk to him right now?" he asked after a few seconds' silence.
After all, Mr Weasley might be able to answer some of his questions, and besides, he really needed to talk to someone other than Ron, Charlie or the twins about everything that was happening.
"Sure!" said Ron, while picking up cautiously one of Fred and George's experiment's phials that they had left on Ron's bed, which was filled with what looked like frog liver and definitely smelled like it. "I think he's still in the living room. Mum would probably have a fit if she found out, because he needs 'peace and quiet', but she's way too busy with Fred and George anyway. And he's alone, don't worry - I saw Charlie walk up the stairs to his room a while ago," he added, seeing Harry's uncertain look.
Harry smiled gratefully at Ron and started descending the steps towards the living room. He walked discreetly past the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was still shouting at the twins and had apparently hexed them with donkey ears, and knocked timidly on the living room door. He heard a feeble "Come in!", entered cautiously, and closed the door behind him.
"Mr Weasley?" he said hesitantly. "Are you feeling better?"
"Ah, it's you, Harry!" Mr Weasley said delightedly. "Yes, I am feeling a lot better now, thank you. I could do with some Pepperup Potion, but I'm sure by tonight I'll be feeling just fine. Come in, come in!"
Reassured, Harry approached the moth eaten sofa and sat opposite Mr Weasley, who looked at Harry thoughtfully for a minute, then said in a meditative tone:
"I've been meaning to talk to you ever since you got here, Harry. Unfortunately, as you may have noticed, I've been a bit - er - distracted, lately."
Harry saw that despite his apparently jovial tone, he still looked very strained - hardly surprising, Harry thought, after almost a week of fighting hysterical Muggles and wizards. He gave Mr Weasley a weak smile and said:
"I also have to talk to you about - er - something. That's why I came down here."
"Really? Well then, you go first."
Mr Weasley sat up in his armchair, waiting for Harry to start.
For a few seconds, Harry could only stare at him, not knowing where to start, and wondering whether or not it was a good idea to talk about a terrible criminal like Sirius Black in front of a wizard who had learned to hate his very name. He was sure Mr Weasley knew by now that Sirius was innocent, but still - you couldn't easily erase the feeling of suspicion and fear when talking about a former Azkaban prisoner. He finally said:
"I - I was wondering... I mean, since you're working with Dumbledore right now, against Vol- You-Know-Who..." He paused, wishing he wasn't so hesitant to speak; he knew he must sound ridiculous. "Well... Would you, by any chance, know where Sirius Black has gone and when he'll come back?"
Mr Weasley frowned slightly, but his reaction was nothing like Harry had anticipated: he looked at Harry pensively, and his expression was not that of anger or fear, but concern and pity. He sighed deeply.
"I was hoping we wouldn't have to talk about this. I was hoping Sirius would be back by the time you'd have come to stay with us." He sighed again.
"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his voice full of apprehension and dreading the worst; if he was reassured about Mr Weasley's apparently friendly feelings towards Sirius, he was alarmed at his reluctance to tackle the subject. "Is he all right? Did something happen to him?"
"Well, we can't go as far as to say something happened to him - which, Dumbledore is quite certain, is not the case," intervened Mr Weasley soothingly. "But, as he has given no sign of life for almost a month now, and our allies have failed to find him, all we can do is hope the old adage is true: no news is good news."
Harry slouched back down on the sofa, completely aghast at the news Mr Weasley had just given him. How could no news be good news? And if Sirius hadn't manifested himself in so long, how could they be sure he was all right? If even Dumbledore was worried beyond his wits, how could anyone possibly have any hope left of him being safe? He had expected, if not good news from Sirius, at least some sort of help, of explanation - but certainly not more worries.
Mr Weasley looked quite appalled in front of Harry's crestfallen face.
"Now Harry," he said firmly, "I think it's safe to say you would trust Dumbledore with your life, is it not?"
Harry slowly nodded, without looking up.
"Now, answer me this: do you honestly believe Dumbledore would have let Sirius - or anyone for that matter - go on a mission without first making sure it was as safe as it could possibly be?"
Harry couldn't help but to smile gratefully at Mr Weasley's fatherly expression and concern, and, even though he still had his doubts, he nevertheless felt reassured that Mr Weasley, at least, seemed to think Sirius was going to be all right.
"You said you also had something to tell me?" said Harry timidly, after a few moments' silence.
"Ah, yes..." said Mr Weasley, his face growing darker. "Well, Sirius was actually one of the things I had to talk to you about. But there was also something else, something very important." He leaned forward towards Harry, and when he spoke, his voice was nothing more than a whisper. "With the new rise of the Dark Lord, we can fear that things will be just as they were fifteen years ago. Which means all of us, and you particularly, must pay attention to which people are our true allies, and which people turn out to be enemies."
Harry stared disbelievingly: did Mr Weasley mean to say some of his friends could be traitors? He opened his mouth to protest, but Mr Weasley had apparently not finished yet, and now, he looked more serious than ever:
"There's one particular warning I must give you, especially since you're going to Diagon Alley today, and Molly and I can do precious little to protect you if ever-"
He was cut short by the twins bursting into the room.
"Oy! Harry, time to go!" said Fred, walking over to Harry and pulling him up by one arm while George grabbed the other. "Mum's finally done yelling at us and we'd rather go to Diagon Alley and get away from her as quickly as possible..."
"... before she has another sudden urge to hex us," continued George.
"Notice the hairdo," said Fred matter-of-factly, pointing at his and George's heads, which were covered with what looked like purple worms protruding from their scalps.
"Not that we don't like it," added George quickly and a little over- enthusiastically. "In fact, it's just given us an idea for a new joke!"
Harry might have laughed at the sight of the twins' hairstyle if he hadn't been so anxious to know what Mr Weasley was about to tell him. Mr Weasley too seemed very bothered that Fred and George had chosen that very moment to interrupt their conversation. Harry saw him open his mouth in an attempt to cover the twins' loud voices, but before Harry could protest they had dragged him out of the living room and into the kitchen, where Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley, still fuming, were waiting for them.
Mrs Weasley reached for the flower pot containing the Floo Powder. Everyone gathered round her. She was about to throw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace when she abruptly rounded on the twins:
"Now I'm warning you," she thundered, pointing a threatening finger at them, "you two behave yourselves! I can't believe I still have to tell you this at your age..."
"Oh, come now, Mum," said Fred in a conciliating tone. "We know better than to make fools of ourselves in public."
Harry and Ron both snorted with laughter as the twins' hairdo conveniently chose that very moment to change abruptly from purple to bright green.
"Okay, so maybe we don't mind making fools of ourselves," said George sheepishly, "but we won't do anything to embarrass you, Mum, we promise!"
Fred and George gave Mrs Weasley their most angelic smile. Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to reply (probably to say that by embarrassing themselves they were embarrassing her as well, or that Bill, Charlie and Percy had never caused such problems), but instead, shot them a suspicious look and snapped, "Empty your pockets!"
Fred and George started, but executed their mother's demand with good grace in front of her, while she was watching them closely. And, amazingly, the twins were hiding nothing inside their pockets, or their socks and shoes, or any other place they would usually have thought of to hide some Weasley's Wizard Wheezes so they could try and sell them in Diagon Alley. Harry knew of the twins' plans all too well, and was rather surprised that they weren't seizing this perfect opportunity to try and get a shop to sell their products.
Just then, Charlie came hurtling down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.
"Phew! Forgot about that bad step," he said, panting and massaging his leg.
"What is it?" enquired Mrs Weasley, momentarily forgetting her inspection of the twins' pockets.
"Oh, nothing!" said Charlie casually. "Just coming to say good-bye."
Mrs Weasley stared at him doubtingly, but shrugged and turned back towards the fireplace. Harry saw Charlie approach the twins from behind and Fred put his hands behind his back.
"You'll want to be careful about yourself," said Mrs Weasley suddenly, turning back towards Charlie. He and the twins immediately stopped moving and looked her in the eyes. "I mean, running down the stairs that way," she continued reprovingly, "when you're still exhausted and shaken from that terrible encounter. You should be resting!"
"Yes, Mum, don't worry," said Charlie. "I'll go straight back to bed and take a nap for a few hours."
Mrs Weasley cast one last worried look on her son's face before finally throwing the Floo Powder into the fire. During that split second, Charlie had discreetly handed each Fred and George a small bag, which they hastily stuffed into their pockets. Then they rounded on Ron, who was already standing in front of the fire place.
"Okay, iclke Ronniekins, you go first!" said George as he and Fred shoved him forward, making his head bonk on the mantelpiece, much to Ginny and Mrs Weasley's dismay.
"Ouch! Di- Diagon Alley!" Ron coughed, swallowing a mouthful of ashes as he tripped into the fireplace.
Harry didn't want any more bruises than he already had because of his recent fall, so he hurried and leapt into the flames before the twins could push him in also.
One evening, Mrs Weasley announced that everyone would be going to Diagon Alley the next day, since the letters from Hogwarts had arrived and they needed all kinds of new material. Harry had read his letter earlier that day, and had been surprised at the amount of Defence Against the Dark Arts material and books they needed. He guessed this was probably one of Dumbledore's initiatives after Voldemort's return, and wondered how the students' parents would react.
Percy, apparently, disapproved highly of Dumbledore's decision. Whenever he was home, he would complain about the howlers they had been receiving at the Ministry concerning the subject, as he did that evening:
"A very unwise and inconsiderate decision, taken even after Mr Fudge himself specified not to change anything in the way the school functioned! And we're the ones who have to put up with the consequences, too! I don't think he even realises that he's way out of line."
Ron rolled his eyes, and George exclaimed, upset:
"Percy? Just shut up, will you?"
"It's Professor Dumbledore you're talking about, sweetheart," intervened Mrs Weasley calmly. "Now, I like to think he's usually very aware of his actions, and that a respected wizard such as him doesn't 'step out of line' for no good reason."
"There's no reason good enough to disregard the Ministry's orders," said Percy in a miffed tone. Fred looked at Harry in a way that showed very clearly he thought Percy's case was hopeless.
The next morning, Harry, Ron, and the twins were getting ready to leave when Ginny informed them that Charlie and Mr Weasley were back at last. Everyone rushed down to the living room, where Mr Weasley was slumping down in a armchair and Charlie lying on the couch. They were in a very sad state indeed: they both looked exhausted and shocked, Charlie's robes were torn, and Mr Weasley had a black eye.
"Muggles were getting out of hand," he was explaining to an anxious Mrs Weasley, who was hurrying back and forth between the kitchen and her husband and son, this time coming back with two cups of strong tea.
"One in particular, he put up a fight!" added Mr Weasley, pointing at his black eye. "Seemed to understand we were going to modify his memory."
"Getting all those poor tourists back in one piece was also far from easy," said Charlie with a grimace, massaging his head. "It took us a couple of days to round up all the body parts. The Italians were so angry, they kept cursing us when we had our backs turned - well, those who had their hands, anyway - until finally we had to take their wands away from them. Another thing their Minister's going to complain about..." he finished with a sigh.
Harry was wondering what it would feel like to have part of your body in one place and the rest of it in another when he was distracted by Fred, who was muttering in George's ear something about wishing Percy splinched himself and left his head at work so that they wouldn't have to put up with it.
"How dare you say things like that?" said Mrs Weasley indignantly, as Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and even Charlie all started laughing (Mr Weasley could only allow himself to emit a small chuckle). "Splinching is a very painful experience! I'd like to think you would never want that to happen to anybody, especially not your brother!"
"Oh, no! Of course not! Especially not to perfect Percy..." said George sarcastically.
"Now," continued Mrs Weasley, ignoring George's last remark, "your father and Charlie need some rest. Why don't you go outside? We won't be going to Diagon Alley until this afternoon - I'd rather stay here a while now that you two are back," she told her husband and Charlie, pushing everyone else towards the door and closing it behind them.
"Well then, how about a game of Quidditch, Harry?" Ron asked. "Fred and George can play against us."
"You sure that's safe?" asked Harry, remembering the way the twins had almost made Ron fall off his broom.
"Oh come on, now, Harry!" said Fred, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Of course it's safe!"
"We'll only play with the Quaffle," added George reassuringly.
"O - Ok!" stuttered Harry, trying to free himself from Fred's grip. "Let me go grab my broom first."
"That's right, Harry. You go get your broom and we'll get ours."
There was something in the twins' tone of voice that made Harry feel very uncomfortable about going up in the air with them.
Five minutes later Harry was down in the kitchen, where Ron, Fred, and George were waiting for him. They were all filling their pockets with sweets coming from a bowl on the table.
" 'Arry!" said Ron through a mouthful of something very gooey and multi- coloured. "You 'ave to tashte theje!"
The twins both nodded in approval and handed Harry a few of the sweets.
"Definitely, Harry, try them: there mum's speciality!"
Harry eyed the toffees suspiciously, as he was use enough to Fred and George's jokes by now to know that anything you touched or ate at the Burrow could be dangerous. His scepticism must have shown on his face, because Ginny, who came into the kitchen right at that moment, giggled and told him:
"Don't worry, Harry. Mum just barely finished making them: I don't think Fred or George have had the time to hex them, yet."
Ron grinned, or tried to grin, anyway: his mouth was so full that bits and pieces of chewed toffee flew all over the kitchen as he let out a chortle. Everyone laughed at this, and Harry, reassured, grabbed a handful of sweets.
Harry and Ron teamed up against Fred and George, both sides trying to score in an empty barrel bewitched to float in mid-air, with the Weasley's very old, battered Quaffle. Ron evidently had less experience in playing Quidditch than the other three: Fred and George easily stole the Quaffle from him, and more than once he had trouble keeping his broom steady after one of the twins came zooming very close to him. Harry grinned and couldn't keep from laughing at the look of terror on Ron's face every time Fred or George came near him; the twins certainly were practical jokers, but they weren't that bad, Harry thought, as he reached into his pocket for one of Mrs Weasley's sweets.
He was however immediately proved wrong: as soon as he had swallowed the toffee, his tongue started to feel numb, and his throat unusually tight. He felt like he might throw up and clapped his hand to his mouth, but there was no way he could stop whatever was coming. Half a second later something huge, viscous, and purple burst out of his mouth, and Harry immediately realised what had happened: Fred and George must have sneaked in some Ton- Tongue Toffees in the bowl of sweets on the table. His suspicions were confirmed as they both exploded with laughter at the sight of Harry and his over-size tongue. Ron, on the other hand, was surprised at first, and for a short moment looked as though he might laugh too, but instead decided to be angry at the twins and started yelling at them. Harry made a mental note to do the same as soon as he could talk again, but for the moment being, he wasn't even listening at what Ron was saying: he was far too busy trying to keep his balance and avoid suffocating.
Unfortunately, even being an excellent flier, it's very difficult indeed to stay up in the air when your tongue is over six feet long and dangling to the side of your broom. Harry did the best he could to keep upright, but despite all his efforts, the weight of his now massive tongue kept pulling him to the ground, until finally he couldn't control his firebolt anymore, started nose-diving, and crashed straight into a huge thorn bush.
It took him a few seconds to come back to his senses, and when he did, the first thing he took conscience of was considerable pain. Every inch of his body was aching and stinging and his tongue was entangled in the thorns. He then heard panicked voices coming in his direction, and the next second Fred and George were pulling him out of the bush and sitting him on the ground, not looking remotely amused anymore.
"Harry! Are you okay?" Ron gasped. He was shaking from head to toe.
Harry tried to say something but there only came an odd, muffled sound from his mouth, so he shook his head instead.
"Really sorry about that!" said Fred, who was rather pale. "Didn't mean for that to happen..."
"Well of course you didn't mean it, but you still did it!" said Ron angrily.
"We reckoned he would eat it before we took off!" explained George defensively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, we weren't even sure he'd taken one."
"You mean there are more in the bowl?" said Ron in an exasperated tone before taking his sweets out of his pocket and hastily throwing them away.
Harry was in too much danger of suffocating - not to mention the fact that he felt like every single bone in his body had shattered - to listen to Ron, Fred, and George argue very long. What he wanted more than anything else right now was for his tongue to be back to normal. He grabbed Ron's attention by kicking him in the shin, and pointed at his swollen tongue lying on the ground at his feet. Ron seemed to get the message and turned towards the twins.
"Okay, you two: fix it!" he snapped.
Fred and George looked very embarrassed indeed. They glanced at each other before stuttering:
"Well... er... we don't - we don't really know..."
"Well, you see, we've never actually learned the counter-curse..."
"Oh now that's clever!" sneered Ron, sounding extraordinarily like Hermione.
Harry stared at the twins in disbelief: they didn't even know the counter- curse to one of their own jokes? It was simply an Engorgement Charm - Mr Weasley had said so before. Remembering Dumbledore's lessons, he desperately tried to explain to Ron and the twins that all they had to do was say 'Reducio' and his tongue would be back to its normal size, or at least tried to make them understand, but by now they had all started quarrelling again, so it was no use.
Harry finally fell over on the ground because of all the extra weight his swollen tongue burdened him with, and at that moment Ron, Fred and George agreed at last that the only thing to do was to take him to Mrs Weasley, even if it meant a heavy scolding for the twins - which Harry, for once, thought they deserved. So Harry, scratched and bruised, made his way back to the house, with Ron helping him walk and Fred and George carrying his over-size tongue in front of him.
The Ton-Tongue Toffee misadventure owed Fred and George the longest scolding Harry had ever witnessed. Once she had fixed Harry's tongue and made sure he didn't have any broken bones, Mrs Weasley rounded on the twins and shouted at them so loudly and fiercely, Harry thought she might as well have sent them a Howler. She was waving her wand carelessly in the air, threatening them with all sorts of curses, and in her fury, it accidentally emitted jets of red sparks that rebounded on the walls, brushed the top of Fred's head and narrowly missed George's ear. Harry and Ron fled the kitchen and Mrs Weasley's shrieks and went upstairs to Ron's bedroom. Harry had to change his clothes, as he was now covered with dirt, thorns, and blood. As he rummaged in his trunk to find clean clothes, he came across a letter Sirius had written to him the year before. Harry suspected Sirius had been somewhere in Africa when he had written this letter - he was in hiding back then, but he was also tranquil, he was safe. Safe. A lump came to Harry's throat when he realized it had now been over three weeks since Sirius had left and that he had still not received any news from him or Dumbledore saying when he would be coming back, and if he was all right. Harry stared at the letter blankly for a few seconds, and started when he heard Ron's voice over his shoulder:
"You know, you still haven't asked Dad about him," said Ron, pointing at the letter. "I'm sure he knows something. I mean, he's working with Dumbledore - he's bound to know what kind of mission Sirius is on."
"Yeah... Maybe..." muttered Harry, throwing the letter back in the trunk and grabbing a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. "D'you reckon I can go and talk to him right now?" he asked after a few seconds' silence.
After all, Mr Weasley might be able to answer some of his questions, and besides, he really needed to talk to someone other than Ron, Charlie or the twins about everything that was happening.
"Sure!" said Ron, while picking up cautiously one of Fred and George's experiment's phials that they had left on Ron's bed, which was filled with what looked like frog liver and definitely smelled like it. "I think he's still in the living room. Mum would probably have a fit if she found out, because he needs 'peace and quiet', but she's way too busy with Fred and George anyway. And he's alone, don't worry - I saw Charlie walk up the stairs to his room a while ago," he added, seeing Harry's uncertain look.
Harry smiled gratefully at Ron and started descending the steps towards the living room. He walked discreetly past the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was still shouting at the twins and had apparently hexed them with donkey ears, and knocked timidly on the living room door. He heard a feeble "Come in!", entered cautiously, and closed the door behind him.
"Mr Weasley?" he said hesitantly. "Are you feeling better?"
"Ah, it's you, Harry!" Mr Weasley said delightedly. "Yes, I am feeling a lot better now, thank you. I could do with some Pepperup Potion, but I'm sure by tonight I'll be feeling just fine. Come in, come in!"
Reassured, Harry approached the moth eaten sofa and sat opposite Mr Weasley, who looked at Harry thoughtfully for a minute, then said in a meditative tone:
"I've been meaning to talk to you ever since you got here, Harry. Unfortunately, as you may have noticed, I've been a bit - er - distracted, lately."
Harry saw that despite his apparently jovial tone, he still looked very strained - hardly surprising, Harry thought, after almost a week of fighting hysterical Muggles and wizards. He gave Mr Weasley a weak smile and said:
"I also have to talk to you about - er - something. That's why I came down here."
"Really? Well then, you go first."
Mr Weasley sat up in his armchair, waiting for Harry to start.
For a few seconds, Harry could only stare at him, not knowing where to start, and wondering whether or not it was a good idea to talk about a terrible criminal like Sirius Black in front of a wizard who had learned to hate his very name. He was sure Mr Weasley knew by now that Sirius was innocent, but still - you couldn't easily erase the feeling of suspicion and fear when talking about a former Azkaban prisoner. He finally said:
"I - I was wondering... I mean, since you're working with Dumbledore right now, against Vol- You-Know-Who..." He paused, wishing he wasn't so hesitant to speak; he knew he must sound ridiculous. "Well... Would you, by any chance, know where Sirius Black has gone and when he'll come back?"
Mr Weasley frowned slightly, but his reaction was nothing like Harry had anticipated: he looked at Harry pensively, and his expression was not that of anger or fear, but concern and pity. He sighed deeply.
"I was hoping we wouldn't have to talk about this. I was hoping Sirius would be back by the time you'd have come to stay with us." He sighed again.
"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his voice full of apprehension and dreading the worst; if he was reassured about Mr Weasley's apparently friendly feelings towards Sirius, he was alarmed at his reluctance to tackle the subject. "Is he all right? Did something happen to him?"
"Well, we can't go as far as to say something happened to him - which, Dumbledore is quite certain, is not the case," intervened Mr Weasley soothingly. "But, as he has given no sign of life for almost a month now, and our allies have failed to find him, all we can do is hope the old adage is true: no news is good news."
Harry slouched back down on the sofa, completely aghast at the news Mr Weasley had just given him. How could no news be good news? And if Sirius hadn't manifested himself in so long, how could they be sure he was all right? If even Dumbledore was worried beyond his wits, how could anyone possibly have any hope left of him being safe? He had expected, if not good news from Sirius, at least some sort of help, of explanation - but certainly not more worries.
Mr Weasley looked quite appalled in front of Harry's crestfallen face.
"Now Harry," he said firmly, "I think it's safe to say you would trust Dumbledore with your life, is it not?"
Harry slowly nodded, without looking up.
"Now, answer me this: do you honestly believe Dumbledore would have let Sirius - or anyone for that matter - go on a mission without first making sure it was as safe as it could possibly be?"
Harry couldn't help but to smile gratefully at Mr Weasley's fatherly expression and concern, and, even though he still had his doubts, he nevertheless felt reassured that Mr Weasley, at least, seemed to think Sirius was going to be all right.
"You said you also had something to tell me?" said Harry timidly, after a few moments' silence.
"Ah, yes..." said Mr Weasley, his face growing darker. "Well, Sirius was actually one of the things I had to talk to you about. But there was also something else, something very important." He leaned forward towards Harry, and when he spoke, his voice was nothing more than a whisper. "With the new rise of the Dark Lord, we can fear that things will be just as they were fifteen years ago. Which means all of us, and you particularly, must pay attention to which people are our true allies, and which people turn out to be enemies."
Harry stared disbelievingly: did Mr Weasley mean to say some of his friends could be traitors? He opened his mouth to protest, but Mr Weasley had apparently not finished yet, and now, he looked more serious than ever:
"There's one particular warning I must give you, especially since you're going to Diagon Alley today, and Molly and I can do precious little to protect you if ever-"
He was cut short by the twins bursting into the room.
"Oy! Harry, time to go!" said Fred, walking over to Harry and pulling him up by one arm while George grabbed the other. "Mum's finally done yelling at us and we'd rather go to Diagon Alley and get away from her as quickly as possible..."
"... before she has another sudden urge to hex us," continued George.
"Notice the hairdo," said Fred matter-of-factly, pointing at his and George's heads, which were covered with what looked like purple worms protruding from their scalps.
"Not that we don't like it," added George quickly and a little over- enthusiastically. "In fact, it's just given us an idea for a new joke!"
Harry might have laughed at the sight of the twins' hairstyle if he hadn't been so anxious to know what Mr Weasley was about to tell him. Mr Weasley too seemed very bothered that Fred and George had chosen that very moment to interrupt their conversation. Harry saw him open his mouth in an attempt to cover the twins' loud voices, but before Harry could protest they had dragged him out of the living room and into the kitchen, where Ron, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley, still fuming, were waiting for them.
Mrs Weasley reached for the flower pot containing the Floo Powder. Everyone gathered round her. She was about to throw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace when she abruptly rounded on the twins:
"Now I'm warning you," she thundered, pointing a threatening finger at them, "you two behave yourselves! I can't believe I still have to tell you this at your age..."
"Oh, come now, Mum," said Fred in a conciliating tone. "We know better than to make fools of ourselves in public."
Harry and Ron both snorted with laughter as the twins' hairdo conveniently chose that very moment to change abruptly from purple to bright green.
"Okay, so maybe we don't mind making fools of ourselves," said George sheepishly, "but we won't do anything to embarrass you, Mum, we promise!"
Fred and George gave Mrs Weasley their most angelic smile. Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to reply (probably to say that by embarrassing themselves they were embarrassing her as well, or that Bill, Charlie and Percy had never caused such problems), but instead, shot them a suspicious look and snapped, "Empty your pockets!"
Fred and George started, but executed their mother's demand with good grace in front of her, while she was watching them closely. And, amazingly, the twins were hiding nothing inside their pockets, or their socks and shoes, or any other place they would usually have thought of to hide some Weasley's Wizard Wheezes so they could try and sell them in Diagon Alley. Harry knew of the twins' plans all too well, and was rather surprised that they weren't seizing this perfect opportunity to try and get a shop to sell their products.
Just then, Charlie came hurtling down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.
"Phew! Forgot about that bad step," he said, panting and massaging his leg.
"What is it?" enquired Mrs Weasley, momentarily forgetting her inspection of the twins' pockets.
"Oh, nothing!" said Charlie casually. "Just coming to say good-bye."
Mrs Weasley stared at him doubtingly, but shrugged and turned back towards the fireplace. Harry saw Charlie approach the twins from behind and Fred put his hands behind his back.
"You'll want to be careful about yourself," said Mrs Weasley suddenly, turning back towards Charlie. He and the twins immediately stopped moving and looked her in the eyes. "I mean, running down the stairs that way," she continued reprovingly, "when you're still exhausted and shaken from that terrible encounter. You should be resting!"
"Yes, Mum, don't worry," said Charlie. "I'll go straight back to bed and take a nap for a few hours."
Mrs Weasley cast one last worried look on her son's face before finally throwing the Floo Powder into the fire. During that split second, Charlie had discreetly handed each Fred and George a small bag, which they hastily stuffed into their pockets. Then they rounded on Ron, who was already standing in front of the fire place.
"Okay, iclke Ronniekins, you go first!" said George as he and Fred shoved him forward, making his head bonk on the mantelpiece, much to Ginny and Mrs Weasley's dismay.
"Ouch! Di- Diagon Alley!" Ron coughed, swallowing a mouthful of ashes as he tripped into the fireplace.
Harry didn't want any more bruises than he already had because of his recent fall, so he hurried and leapt into the flames before the twins could push him in also.