43.

BOO-URNS!

None of these characters are mine. Incidentally,I've made another sale. My poems

"Carrion 2.0" (there's another version) and "Black" are in the latest issue

of Quietus Magazine,which came out on Halloween. Apparently,UNSPEAKABLE LIMERICKS is

out,as well,and so is SEX CRIMES. No one under 18 will be allowed anywhere NEAR

that one,believe me..."I Will Always Love You" belongs to Dolly parton,I guess. "I

Said I Loved You (But I Lied)" belongs to...MICHAEL BOLTON."The Kindness Of

Strangers" belongs to Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds.

There was a knock at the door.

"Just a second," Marge said.

She went to the door and opened it. "Mrs. Weasley,hello."

"Mrs. Simpson," she said.

Snowball II rubbed her head against Molly's foot,purring.

"Call me Marge."

"In that case,call me Molly."

"Would you like to come in?"

"Well, not right now. I was hoping you could help me."

Marge stepped outside.

"I'll certainly try, Molly. What do you need?"

"I've run out of water for tea,and I don't know where to go to get more."

"Oh," Marge said,understanding. "I'll drive you over to Try-N-Save."

"I don't have the proper money."

"Just get in the car," Marge said.

Molly grinned.

Now, of course, had she known that the security of the Ministry Of Magic had

been compromised, she wouldn't have given a damn about tea. But that's just it;

she didn't know.

She slid into the passenger seat. In moments, they were off.

"I'm on the wrong side of the car," Molly laughed. So did Marge.

They stopped for a red light.

"That's the best part of brooms," Molly said. "No bloody lights. Of course,

there's low-flying airplanes-"

"You really ride brooms?"

"Not much else to ride," Molly said. "We do use cars, when we must." She

looked around. "Can I open the window?"

"Sure," Marge said.

Molly cranked her window down.

"Would you like some music?"

"Oh. A radio. If my husband were here, he'd be fiddling round with it. He's

fascinated with your various gadgets. Brings them home sometimes. Then our kids

get their hands on them."

"How many kids do you have?"

"Well,there's Ginny and Ron. Fred and George are twins. We have two grown boys,

Bill and Charlie, and-"

"One more makes seven."

"Percy," Molly said, as if the boy were dead. "But I don't think he wants anything

to do with us."

"You have seven kids."

"Harry makes eight. We consider him one of us."

"I know someone with nine kids."

"Busy people, I gather."

"They took fertility drugs."

"I've heard of those. Didn't need 'em. How many do you have?"

"Three kids. Bart,Lisa, and Maggie."

"-AND AAAAAIIII-EEEYAAAIII...WILL ALLLWAYSS LUHHHHVE YOUUUUUU-"

"Y'know, I can't help wondering...wizards and witches have their own

musical groups,don't they?"

"Oh,yes. The Weird Sisters-very big with the kids. There's Celestina Warbeck,

she's an operatic soprano.

played The Queen Of The Night in your THE MAGIC FLUTE

once. Other than that, she usually performs in operas written especially for her-

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF HELENE,that's a great one-Italian. Everybody dies. Like

that other opera whose name eludes me...the heroine stabs the villain with a

butter knife and asks him 'are you choking on your own blood?' as he dies-"

"I know that one," Marge said. "It's called TOSCA."

"-aaHHH WILL ALLWAYYS,AAAAAAALWAAAAAAAYS LUHHHHHVE YOUUUUUUU-"

"I hate this song," Marge said. She changed stations.

"My husband's fascinated with your culture," Molly said. "He brings home

the strangest music sometimes."

"What about you?"

"Me? Oh...well, I don't begrudge his curiosity. Sometimes, I just find this

world...weird. Confusing."

"I live here, and I still find it that way."

Molly laughed. "For a Muggle, you're all right, Marge."

"Thanks. You're the first witch I've ever met."

Molly lowered her voice a few octaves. "We walk among you."

This time,Marge laughed.

She stopped the car at a red light.

The truck in the other lane stopped beside them.

"Augh,what IS that stench?"

Marge looked over. It was Cletus Delroy's truck, which was piled high with

junk and other things that had probably been alive once.

The weird thing was that neither Cletus or Brandine Delroy were driving.

One of their kids sat on a trio of old Springfield phone directories, a long-

faced,mopey kid with an unwashed mop of reddish-brown hair hiding his eyes-sat in the

driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

Before Marge could say anything, the light turned green and he peeled out of there.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" Molly asked.

"There was a kid driving that truck. One of Cletus Delroy's kids."

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"Uh...well...he's kind of reclusive. He has twenty-six kids."

"TWENTY-SIX?" Molly laughed. "How many wives does he have?"

"Just one," Marge said. "His sister, Brandine."

"But you said she was his-" She stopped in midsentence. "Oh," she said.

"Yeah," Marge said.

They stopped at a red light.

There were kids standing on the corner, waiting.

None of them had three arms or an extra head.

"His sister and his wife," Molly said. "Arthur brought home this film once,

with a Muggle actor named Jack Nicholson-"

"My sister,my daughter,my sister,my daughter!" Marge exclaimed.

"That's it exactly. What was it called?"

"It was called...CHINATOWN."

"Forget it,Jake,it's...Chinatown."

It sounded funny with her accent.

Static blasted out of the radio.

"SAID I LUUUHHH-HUVED YEWWWWWW but I LIED-"

"Michael Bolton?" Molly asked.

"It sure is," Marge said.

"Merlin," she said. "He IS real."

Molly sat back, and closed her eyes.

"Terrifying," she said.

Marge twisted the dial.

"My husband was in a musical group once," she said. "The B Sharps."

"No one I know can hold a tune," Molly said.

A sad, mournful ballad lilted through the car.

"-...they found Mary Bellows...cuffed to the bed...a rag in 'er mouth...and

a bullet in 'er head..."

"Oh,this is cheery," Molly said.

"Anyway, we're here."

Marge turned the radio off.

Marge pulled into the Try-N-Save parking lot.

Molly had never seen so many cars in her life.

The sun made an appearance from behind a cloud,reflecting off of the mass of chrome.

Marge slowed the car to a crawl, searching for a parking space.

Another little kid ran in front of the car, disappearing in the sun glare.

"All these kids," Marge said,with a nervous laugh.

She found a parking space.

It was near the back of the lot, beside a crooked tree.

"It's crowded today," Marge said.

"Well," Molly said,getting out of the car. She slammed the door.

As she did, she heard laughter.

She turned around in time to see shadows retreating.

She stuck her hand in her pocket, gripping her wand.

The Try-N-Save seemed so far away.

As they walked, Molly gritted her teeth.

She glanced sideways, and saw two little girls ducking behind a Toyota.

"Marge-"

"Right here," Marge said,looking over her shoulder.

A little boy dove under a minivan.

"Twenty-six kids,you said?"

"Right. They might have more."

In front of them, a kid of indeterminate sex chased after a hula hoop.

There was a BANG like a gunshot.

The kid Disapparated.

Marge gasped.

"Voldemort," Molly said. "He's inside them."

A bare tire rolled across the lot.

"He can do that?"

"Oh,yes. It's not for nothing we call him He Who Must Not Be Named."

"You named him He Who Must Not Be Named? Isn't that redundant?"

"Not for him, it isn't."

"What if they attack us?"

"Only two people have dueled with Voldemort and survived."

"Really?"

"Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore is the only one Voldemort fears."

"Who's the other one?"

"Harry."

A football sailed over their heads and bounced into the street.

"Harry's been through a lot."

"Oh, I know, Marge, believe me. Don't worry. I have my wand in my pocket. If

worse comes to worse, I'll fight him to my last breath."

"In that case, so will I."

"Resistance, Marge. That's the key. I just think of my family."

"Family," Marge said. "And our friends,too."

"Right,them too."

A kid was sitting by the entrance. He wore a patch on his torn shirt that read

MY NAME IS and under that was DYLAN DELROY.

"Hello,Molly," he said.

"We're not afraid of you," Molly said.

"You know, there are twenty-six of me right now," he said. "What makes you think

you'll get out of this parking lot alive?"

Molly pulled her wand out of her pocket.

"Petrificus totalus," she said. A beam of light caught the kid unawares; he

fell to the ground,stiff as a board.

"Twenty-five to go," Molly said. "Let's go shopping."

They entered Try-N-Save, which was as busy as it usually was.

Molly was overwhelmed.

"Look at all this...stuff," she said,stepping past the registers.

"It must seem like a lot."

Molly paused in front of a magazine rack.

"It IS a lot. This place is like a, I don't know...it's so bloody BIG. Hogwarts

is big, but this place..." She smiled. "You know this place,don't you?"

"Well...yes."

"Then we make a stand in here."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course,Marge. This place has a million potential weapons Voldemort doesn't

understand. We can make them as we go."

"Well..." Marge said,"I guess I need to pick up a few things."

Molly smiled.

"Excellent. Now where's the tea?"

"Well,okay," Marge said. "It's two aisles over."

"All right," Molly said. She smiled at Marge,and stepped around the corner-

-and ran right into the man coming in the opposite direction.

"Oh," Molly exclaimed; she had knocked the poor man to the ground,spilling

everything he'd been holding.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"No,no," the man said. "My fault." He was a slight,bespectacled man with

messy gray hair and neatly pressed clothes. She handed him one of the things he'd

dropped; one of those frozen dinner things.

"Haven't seen you around," he said. "Are you new in town?"

"I'm just visiting," she said,extending her hand. "Molly Weasley."

"Waylon-"

"SMITHERS! You staggering fortress of incompetence,what's taking so long?"

His smile vanished.

"I'm almost finished, Mr. Burns."

Mr. Burns rounded the corner.

He reminded Molly of a very decrepit praying mantis. He was an old man who had

aged horribly,the antithesis of Albus Dumbledore.

"Terribly sorry, sir," Molly said.

He snatched a can of tuna out of her hand. "Spare me your apologies, you

obstacular gold-bricking-"

"Now,LISTEN-"

Molly grabbed the can of tuna out of Burns's hand.

Burns grabbed it back.

As he did,the sleeve of his suit rode up on his arm.

There was a wrinkled tattoo on his wrist.

It was one Molly knew.

-a black skull.

She looked up at Burns.

"It's you," she said.

"Smithers, distract this maniacal woman."

"You're the contact," Molly said.

Smithers grabbed Burns by the wrist and ran towards the entrance.

"Someone stop them," Molly yelled.

No one stopped them.

When they emerged from the store, the parking lot was empty.

Except for a group of very dazed-looking children.