DISCLAIMER: All characters and copyright belong to J.K. Rowling
CHAPTER ONE
Of Ghouls and Mardi Gras
Harry Potter woke up with a nasty jolt, as though somebody had just sat on his middle and squeezed all the air out of him. For six o'clock in the morning, it was a pretty shrewd guess. He raised his head so fast that his forehead collided painfully with the low beam that was annoyingly positioned right above his bed. It was at times such as this that he felt a peculiar fondness for his cupboard under the stairs. It hadn't been great, of course, being very cramped and perfectly located for Dudley to make enough noise on the stairs to really get his back up, but it had at least been tall enough for him to sit upright in bed without knocking himself senseless. Being relegated to the attic was quite a come-down, even from a cupboard. Uncle Vernon clearly presumed that it made Harry's life more uncomfortable while keeping him firmly out of the way. Being able to Apparate and perform magic legally meant that it was all the more necessary to keep him locked up.
Anyway, it was with mild irritation that Harry peered down at the thing that had woken him up. An owl, large, brown and exhausted, sitting on his stomach making a noise that sounded oddly like snoring.
Owls snore? Harry thought, distractedly, carefully removing the parchment that was tied to its leg. He didn't recognise the messenger, but the handwriting on the envelope was more than familiar.
Harry -
Change of plan! Can you make it here this morning instead of waiting until Friday? Dad and Fudge have been arguing again, this time about time off from work. Fudge wanted him to take a week's leave as of today, like I said before. He's still trying to push Dad out if he can. Guess that means he's getting worried! Anyway - Dad told him to bugger off, and he's managed to wrangle cover for you to Apparate this morning, between seven and eight. I would have come to tell you personally, but Mum says it's not safe even for us any more, which is a pain in the arse. I'm just getting used to this Apparation thing! Hope this message reaches you in time. This is Percy's new owl, and it keeps falling asleep. I wonder why! He's even managing to bore the pants off his animals now! If you can't make it this morning, Dad can try again at the weekend. But seriously, I'll have a nervous breakdown if I have to wait that long for some intelligent company! See you in a bit, hopefully.
- Ron
Harry couldn't resist a snort of laughter at the penultimate sentence. 'Intelligent company'. Since when had Ron cared about intelligent company? Surely Hermione ought to have arrived at The Burrow by now.
He struggled out of bed, automatically reaching for his wand below his pillow and surveying the low-ceilinged room with trained caution. He could never afford to take any chances. It was that very problem that would have made the prospect of getting to Norton Avenue undetected rather daunting, especially when he had all his wordly possessions to transport at the same time, which happened to include an enormous owl cage and a broomstick. Apparation was a handy trick, and definitely the safest way of moving around the country when somebody was at the Ministry to give one cover!
While he mused on this, he took a moment to draw aside the ragged sheet that served as a curtain, and squinted out into the watery sunlight that flooded Privet Drive and the neighbouring area. It appeared to be your ordinary Wednesday morning - postmen and dog-walkers trundling leisurely along the pavements, hailing early-risers who stood on doorsteps in their dressing-gowns, examining their delivery of milk. From somewhere not too far away, Harry heard the wail of a baby and a car starting. The world was rising, and seemed it's usual routine self.
But Harry knew better than to trust to that. Many days that had seemed routine had often turned in to days he would wish to forget forever. Poignant, painful memories which dreamless sleep veiled for a brief number of hours came flooding back. Despair was not an emotion Harry ever chose to wallow in, and instead of becoming depressed and pessimistic about life, he preferred to take a deep breath and hope for the best. It was a tried and tested method, and it worked. Besides, this was the day he was saying goodbye to the Dursleys for a long, long time, perhaps for good. That had to be something to smile gleefully about! He decided to scribble a quick note to say that he had gone, just on the off-chance that they might wonder, and left it on his pillow.
The brown owl was now lying prostrate on Harry's bed, and did not respond to any amount of poking. Harry left it to recover while he stuffed his toothbrush, pyjamas and the book he had fallen asleep with last night, 'Quidditch - How To Positively Slaughter The Opposition', into his trunk. A simple transportation spell would send it instantly on its way to The Burrow, and Harry could Apparate swiftly after it. Not for the first time he congratulated himself on his impeccable choice of friends. That transportation spell had been an excellent discovery of Hermione's -
Hedwig hooted resignedly as Harry persuaded her to get into her cage, placing Percy's unconscious owl on the floor beside her. Since she always arrived wherever Harry sent her looking ruffled and cross, he assumed it was not a particularly comfortable form of travel, but she bore it with customary resilience.
"See you there, Hedwig!" Harry said, giving her a final scratch on the head before laying his wand tip on the top of the cage and muttering "Transporta ad Burrow."
The cage vanished, taking the owls with it. Harry sent his Firebolt and his trunk the same way, before turning around to view the little room. He couldn't help wondering if he'd ever come back to the Dursleys. This was, after all, his final year, and there had been talk for some time now about him training to be an Auror after school, which would naturally mean living permanently in the wizarding world. He always tried to ignore the ever-increasing possibility that he might not get that far. It gave him something to aim for, after all.
He visualised the Weasley's yard clearly in his head, judging it sensible for himself and his belongings to arrive outside in case Percy threw a fit at the condition of his owl. It was unlikely that Ron would have asked permission to use it, and Percy's bad moods were almost as terrifying as Mrs Weasley's.
He had had quite a bit of practise at Apparating during his last term at Hogwarts, and it was with a skilful ease that he appeared unscathed in the garden of The Burrow. next to Hedwig, his Firebolt, and his faithful trunk.
For all that it was an ungodly hour to be awake in Harry's opinion, The Burrow, as he approached it, was already bustling with activity. Smoke swirled upwards from the precariously balanced chimney, and the clatter of saucepans and crockery heralded the advent of breakfast. Tentatively, he picked his way through the chickens and geese scratching about in the yard. An eerie wailing from one of the upper floors meant that the ghoul was also awake, if in fact, it ever slept.
It felt so good to be back again.
"Harry, my son!" cried a red-haired figure, dangling out of a window.
"Morning, Fred!"
"George, you idiot!"
"Sorry!"
Another head, a carbon copy, popped out of the same window. "Welcome to the Den of Vice!"
"Vice, Fred?" laughed Harry, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh yes! You haven't seen anything like it, I'm telling you now."
"It's absolutely disgusting!" agreed George.
"Man, it's Mardi Gras! It's carnival time! Come, join the merriment and depravity, Harry, my boy! Come within, where young virgins braid flowers in their hair; people sway to primitive jungle rhythms, and couples copul- "
"FRED!"
If Harry hadn't known what a formidable woman Mrs Weasley was, he would have laughed at Fred's unmistakable wince.
"Don't let me EVER hear you using that kind of language in front of me again! You ought to be setting your sister an example!"
"We were just - "
"I don't care what you were just doing. Come down and eat your breakfast before I come up there and give you what for!"
"But Mum!"
A piercing shriek from the depths of the house made Harry jump, and both heads disappeared from the window like a shot.
"FRED, GEORGE! I swear, I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!"
"What is it, Ginny?" came Mrs Weasley's voice.
"That bucket of water over the door trick is SO OLD now, Fred!"
The lack of response meant that either the twins were rolling on the floor in hysterics, or Mrs Weasley had indeed gone upstairs and given them 'what for'.
"For Merlin's SAKE, what is all the RACKET?"
Harry decided to sit on his trunk on the lawn for a while, until peace was restored. Besides, it was quite amusing.
"Shut up, Perce!"
"Oh well, that's nice, isn't it? I get woken up at the crack of dawn by screams and yells and crashes and wailing, then I - "
"It's not the crack of dawn, Percy, dear, it's seven o'clock."
"Perce, just forget it and come back to bed."
"It's the principle, Penny, my love."
"Sod the principle, Perce. Get back in here now!"
Another male voice joined the onslaught now. Mr Weasley's calm-in-the-face-of-death tone was unmistakable.
"Children, children, what's all this?"
"Your sons, Arthur, are a disgrace!"
"Mum!"
"Oh, Fred, just go downstairs and eat. You too, George. I'll deal with the pair of you later. Ginny, are you all right?"
"Yes! Wet, but otherwise unscathed."
"Well, I don't know, Molly, my dear, but they aren't usually this rowdy first thing in the morning, are they?"
"You wouldn't believe it. You'd sleep through an Unforgivable Curse."
"What's going on?"
"Breakfast, Ron. Now!"
"Harry here yet?"
"It's gone seven, so he ought to be. Come on, downstairs everyone!"