Chapter 6: PREPARATIONS
With the Fire Quidditch game so close, Harry started to receieve... fan mail. Dumbledore had been sending loads of it to Harry and Hogwarts had been receiving lots of owls lately...
Dear Harry
Do you mind if I call you that? Is it ok? I'm sorry, I'm just a real big fan of yours. The way you caught the Spiked Snitch and didn't hurt yourself, I just fell in love. There's a picture of you hanging in my room, catching it over and over again!
Love,
Josephine
Freaked out, Harry handed it to Cho, who read it, giggled, then threw it out. Harry opened one that had come from Sirius.
Harry,
Watch your back. I don't want you outside that house without your staff in your hands. I'm coming to the game along with Remus, Severus and Arabella. We want you to play but we want it to be safe. We also want you to win but that's another story. Have fun and don't worry about You-Know-Who.
See you on the fifteenth,
Sirius
Harry supposed Sirius didn't write Voldemort's name down because he just didn't want to worry Harry with it. He was, of course, happy he would be seeing Sirius. After reading it once more, he passed the letter onto Cho, who read it, fully agreed with it and then stuffed it under the loose floorboards.
"It's a good thing Dumbledore is smart enough to only send these owls at night," said Harry, cutting up Hermione's still amazingly-fresh birthday cake and handing a piece to Cho. "Who knows what the neighbors would say."
They both giggled in silence. One last letter from Ron said that Ron's dad, Arthur Weasley, would be picking them up in their new family car at ten.
Since they've been spending so much time together -- all day and all night for the past few weeks, in fact -- Harry's nervousness had died away completely. They had been friends for so long, and for so long, Harry had never experienced... this feeling. He still wasn't ready to admit to it. Someone had once told him what it was but he didn't want to say it himself. It was on the fourteenth that something finally hit Harry.
"I'm gonna miss you this year, you know," he said over dinner.
Aunt Petunia and Dudley all seemed to have disappeared from view as his thoughts wandered onto the fact that Cho had graduated Hogwarts the previous year. Uncle Vernon had taken Aunt Marge out to dinner on Aunt Petunia's orders -- they went looking for houses for Aunt Marge to buy. So far, everyone had been eating in silence, so breaking the silence must be good no matter what the subject, right?
Cho chewed quickly and then said, smiling pleasantly, "We can still see each other -- I'm not going anywhere any time soon." Harry knew this, but he didn't care -- he would like to be able to spend his last year at Hogwarts with her. "Mom's finally listening to me and sending Dad back to the hospital, see if he gets any better."
"You two have any plans to stay together?" said Aunt Petunia suddenly. Harry almost choked on his food.
"What? You mean you're trying to talk to me without shrieking?" Harry asked her. Aunt Petunia gave Harry a piercing look then went back to her dinner.
"Don't be so surprised," she said quickly, sounding slightly cold. "It's taken me sixteen long years to get over your mother -- and I'm still not -- but... Dudley..."
"Oh, this is all about Dudley, is it?" Harry snapped.
"Send him for a year, Mrs. Dursley," said Cho slowly, afraid she might get yelled at. "What's the harm?"
"What's the harm?" Aunt Petunia repeatedly loudly, her voice shaking slightly. She clasped a hand to her forehead. Cho noticed that she had said too much. "Finish eating your dinner and go back upstairs."
Harry caught Cho's gaze and rolled his eyes at Aunt Petunia.
"The Quidditch game is in two days," he said. "We'll be out of your hair early in the morning. We need to leave two days early to get there." He finished the last of the tasty chicken wings and then tossed the plate at the sink.
Cho and Aunt Petunia watched in horror as it flew across the kitchen. It would have shattered into pieces but it slowed down before it came in contact with the bottom of the sink. Harry stopped moving for a few seconds to look at what he had accidently done... or wasn't it an accident and it was just that he wanted to look angry?
Cho put her knife and fork in the plate, picked it up (intending to just get away from the table and eat upstairs), grabbed Harry's arm and marched him up to his room. She sat on the bed Raides had magicked in since the first day. Harry sat on his bed, his back to Cho. She opened her mouth but Harry read her mind.
"I don't know what that was," he said in a quiet voice. "It's almost like the mark of ancients is back."
The mark of ancients was a mysterious mark that the very old wizards, known as ancients, ancients were known for. Harry found out that he had this. His dad, James Potter, was a descendent of an ancient. When no one had shown the mark for five thousand years, upon Harry being returned from the hospital, his skin glittered golden then glowed white, before disappearing -- this was the mark of the ancients. It had returned in full measure just two years ago but had to be removed. The mark is capable of being used against it's owner, putting them under a permanent Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgiveable Curses, a curse which puts the target under complete control of the caster. Unforgiveable Curses land the caster, if the target is another fellow witch or wizard, in the horrible wizard prison, Azkaban. That didn't stop Voldemort from trying to control Harry... Harry guessed this was why Voldemort wanted him dead, but even with the mark gone...
"Your skin isn't glowing -- you don't have it. Look, what are we fretting over," said Cho after she had just finished chewing (and she chewed still more quickly). "You heard what Sirius and Dumbledore said. You didn't really want to shatter that plate, did you?" Harry shook his head. "Right. So, you're just getting very good at magic, that's all."
"Yeah," said Harry softly, "I'm just getting very good at it..."
"Oh come on, Harry!" Cho said pleadingly, forgetting all about her food and putting it aside. "Forget about it. What are you getting yourself worked up for? It's nothing, really. Concentrate on getting England that Fire Quidditch Cup for a third time!"
She stood up, crossed the room and sat next to him.
"I don't know," he said, turning around. "First there's the bit with the mark of ancients, then we get rid of it. Then there's the thing last year with the Spiked Snitch, Professor Flitwick having to make me swallow a potion of Draught of Living Death because no one could move me and flinging Madam Pomfrey across a room like a Quaffle."
Harry had quite a fright last year to see Sirius with most of his soul missing, a state in which it was safe to consider him dead. Madam Pomfrey and Severus Snape had tried a potion to cure Sirius but it backfired. The year before, half of it had been sucked out by a dementor, the potion pulling even more out, when Harry tried to rescue him from Azkaban. Sirius had been sent to Azkaban in the first place because he had been framed by Pettigrew for the death of several Muggles, the death of Harry's parents and Pettigrew himself the day Voldemort tried to kill Harry.
Sirius was immediately sent to Azkaban without a trial and was there for thirteen years, up until Harry's third year at Hogwarts, when Sirius managed to escape. A longer story ensues... With the entire wizarding world believing Sirius to be on Voldemort's side, they thought Harry was in danger but the year ended with Harry, Ron and Hermione confronting Sirius, who was really after Ron's then pet rat, Scabbers. Scabbers was really Pettigrew, who had been hiding ever since that day...
Pettigrew escaped and Sirius was forced into hiding until his name had finally been cleared just a few years later. Pettigrew died just last year. Having had his life spared by Harry from Sirius (Sirius wanted Pettigrew dead, Harry suggested Pettigrew go to Azkaban so as to not turn his godfather into a real murderer), he betrayed Voldemort and it meant the eventual end of him...
"Sirius said you're bound to find out more things about yourself that might scare you but he also said you shouldn't let it bother you, remember?" said Cho comfortingly. "This is just one of those things. You'll find out what it is, just don't let it get to you. And don't you dare tell me it's too late for that," she added sharply, watching Harry's mouth open. He smiled weakly. "Now come on, you're still hungry. Take my plate" -- she handed it to him -- "and eat. You need your strength if you're going to kick the United States' butt again. I'll get something from downstairs or finish off Hermione's cake if your aunt put it away already."
Cho grabbed some desert Aunt Petunia had out for Dudley. She spent the rest of the night coaching Harry into how to react should something else happen during the Quidditch game. The biggest part of this plan was --
"So how the bloody hell am I supposed to prevent my hand from getting torn off, then?" said Harry hotly.
Cho glared at him for a second before getting up and walking over to the Staff of Cybele.
"What... ?" said Harry, a bemused expression on his face.
"Here," Cho said, handing the so-far lifeless staff to him. "Let's see what she's got to say."
Harry took the staff from her and as usual, it sprang to life and purred softly. Cho sat on the chair at Harry's desk.
"Well, good afternoon," said Raides pleasantly.
"Cho has some sort of strange idea you can help me with the Spiked Snitch," said Harry.
"Harry," said Raides, staring at him like he was missing the obvious and had just asked a dumb question. She raised one of her squashed eyes provocatively. Harry nearly bursted out laughing at the sight of a fierce animal in the shape of a staff trying to look lady-like so she stopped. "Don't want to have a repeat of last year, do we?" she asked.
Cho told Raides what had just happened in the kitchen and Raides squealed with delight when she finished.
"If you can do that, you can do this. Here," she said, full of purpose. "Summon a fork from downstairs with me." A few seconds later, with a pop, a fork appeared before their eyes and fell to the ground which surprised both Harry and Cho. Summoning Charms don't teleport the object, they move it. "Welcome to the ancient magic version of Charms," Raides explained. "Pick it up, stare at the prongs, point me at it and say 'Furcilla Leviosa.'"
"But, that's just going to move them. And besides, I can't use you, I'll be riding you. What... ?" Harry said slowly, that bemused expression back on his face.
"Do it."
Harry did as told, feeling this was pointless.
"Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted, pointing Raides at the prongs on the fork. Cho ducked for dear life as the four prongs broke off and flew in every which direction. One of them crashed into the mirror inside Harry's wardrobe and cracked it. Harry crossed the room towards it and waved Raides frantically.
"Speculum," she said lazily.
"Speculum Reparo!" said Harry. The cracked glass of the mirror sped across the floor, reattaching itself and it was as if there was no damage ever done. "The point of that was?"
Raides didn't reply. Harry pointed her at the handle of the fork and put it back together with a glow of the crystal. "Now try that again," she said. "This time, without me."
"Nothing's going to happen," said Harry flatly.
"Oh really?" said Raides, smiling.
This made Harry raise an eyebrow. Cho looked excited. Raides transformed into a lion and propped herself up on Harry's bed to get a better look.
Harry picked up the fork from the floor and stupidly pointed a finger at it. "Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted again. Nothing happened. He put his hands down and frowned at Raides first, then Cho.
"Going to give up already, are we?" said Raides, her tail raised, a superior expression on her face rather like a teacher looking at a student as if she waiting for the student to realize something. "And don't point your finger at it like you're telling it to go to it's room. That just makes me want to laugh," she said with a straight face. Cho bursted out laughing.
"Right," Harry muttered. This time, he pointed a lazy finger at the fork and said once again, "Furcilla Leviosa!" Nothing happened. He jabbed the fork with his finger and said it again. Still, nothing happened. "FUR --" he shouted, grabbing the prongs with his hand and holding the handle with the other. "CILLA!" He tried with all his might to bend the fork. "LEVIOSA!" He cracked it in half.
"That's not what I really had intended, you know," said Raides. She changed back into a staff, he fixed the fork and she transformed back into a lion. "Not used to doing magic without a wand, are you?"
"He's only been doing it accidently," Cho told Raides.
"Only when you were angry or scared, right?" said Raides to Harry. "Do you remember in what situations you were able to do magic BEFORE you knew you were a wizard?"
The train of thought in Harry's head derailed and crashed. He had only ever done magic before he knew he was a wizard when he was angry or scared. What was Raides getting at?
"I -- don't get you," said Harry, shaking his head.
"It's just like when you first learned magic. They only give you that silly wand to help you concentrate more. You're so used to doing it with a wand now, you forget that you don't need one."
"Then -- then why don't I just try it with a wand," said Harry.
"If you can do it without a wand, you can do it even better with a wand," said Raides, the corner of her upper lip curling with delight. "And besides. You're good. Everyone says you're good. You know you're good. You're really --"
"Okay, I get the idea," Harry said loudly, his ears turning pink.
"If you're ever without a wand," Raides went on, "what are you going to do?"
"Panic and run like hell?" Harry suggested.
"No," said Raides sharply. "You -- especially -- don't need a wand. That, and I hate to say it but you should try all you can to get even better, because, well... you know..."
Harry knew; Raides didn't have to say it. If Voldemort was ever going to try something, he wasn't going to take his time.
"Did the ancients need wands?" Cho asked Raides.
"Ah, I don't remember." She screwed her beautiful, golden face up in confusion, evidently thinking hard. She growled angrily and said, "I just can't remember!"
"Yeah," Harry assured her quickly. "Sirius said they couldn't do much of anything, but once they had the mark..." Cho was staring at him. "What," he said, "so I actually can cast spells without the mark. So what?"
Cho put a hand to her mouth as if to force back something she was thinking of saying and stood up suddenly, turning away from Harry. Harry, however, had enough.
"Whatever it is, I'll figure it out," said Harry at Cho's back. Cho didn't reply so he instead turned to look at the fork again, giving it a scornful stare. He squinted one eye and aimed his finger at it. "Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted. Nothing. He pointed both of his index fingers at it. "Furcilla Leviosa! Nothing. He stood up. "You stupid fork!" he shouted angrily. "Furcilla Leviosa!"
"At least he's trying," Raides whispered with a smile in Cho's ear so Harry couldn't hear.
By now, Harry had all ten fingers pointed at the fork, looking rather like he was trying to make it float away. "Fur -- cil -- la -- Lev -- i -- o -- sa!" He heaved a great sigh, turned, sat back down, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, frustrated, still glaring at the fork.
"You gave a good effort, Harry. Didn't he, Cho?" said Raides, slapping Cho on the leg with her tail.
Harry sighed again, straightening up. "Accio wand," he said without thinking, stretching a hand out to his wand. The loose floorboards gave a quiver and his wand shot out of them and jumped into his hand. Cho and Raides stared. So did Harry.
"You idiot," said Cho reprovingly, yet smiling. "Try the fork again."
"Furcilla Leviosa!" Harry shouted one last time, staring at the fork, his hand stretched out to it. The tip of one of the prongs bent, but barely noticeably. Harry smiled broadly at his achievement, however minor it was.
"Now you can practice all night until you get it!" said Raides happily. Cho didn't look too enthused. "But don't expect to be able to shatter them like you did with me." Harry nodded; he didn't hope to.
They spent a good several hours. Harry was able to graduate to making the very tip of a prong crack off. He could easily break them all off with his wand but it was a much different story without it. Cho couldn't do anything without her wand. She suggested that Harry practice some more tomorrow at the Burrow. Breaking off four prongs from a fork wasn't so hard but there were at least twenty tiny blades on the Spiked Snitch... !
The sun had been down a long time, the sound of crickets echoing off the walls, before they went to bed. Harry let Raides stay as a lion as she promised she would stay invisible.
Before the sun was even up and the crickets were still chirping -- perhaps it was anxiety for the Fire Quidditch game, perhaps it was the thought of Voldemort -- but Harry got an unpleasant wake-up call. Breathing hard and fast, eyes wide like small tennis balls, Harry sprang up like a mousetrap from the dream once again.
He took a quick look around his bedroom in Privet Drive, letting, hoping, wishing the dream with the flash of green light speeding toward him would stop coming back again and again. Cho was sound asleep just across from him and Raides was curled up on the floor like an elaborate rug.
Harry pushed his bangs away and ran a finger over his lightning-shaped scar. It hadn't hurt him for a long time and that was something to be happy about. He then groped around on his bedside table for not his glasses, but the Order of Merlin necklace. Raides heard him knock over his gold wristwatch.
"Harry," she said groggily, without the slightest change of position or even opening her eyes. She stuck her scarlet tail in the air and didn't need to say anything else... Harry's fast breathing told her all she needed to know.
The Order of Merlin plaque did all Harry hoped it would, immediately slowing his breathing down a little and letting his shoulders slowly sink to how they layed naturally -- not several inches above their normal resting place. He layed back down and stared blankly up at the ceiling, his mouth still open slightly. Something in him wanted Raides to say nothing because it would be far too embarassing if Cho woke up -- he hadn't told her about it yet. But that same something wanted Cho to wake up. Lately, he felt like he could tell her anything and it was a very good, warming feeling to know that he could confide in someone.
Reading Harry's mind, Raides woke Cho by tickling her face with her fuzzy, scarlet tail.
"What," she said groggily, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"
"Go on, I'm not telling," said Raides, now resting her golden head on her paws on the floor and looking up at Harry.
He apprehensively and slowly told Cho all about the dream in a flat, toneless voice. By the time he had finished, she had been sitting up and looking intently at Harry with a tear in her eye.
There was silence while Raides scratched her ear with a paw. Harry thought it looked rather cute but it didn't drown out the dream. His mother's voice, "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead," kept repeating in his head like a broken record player.
Cho closed her mouth, swallowed, opened it as if to say something, managed nothing but "I" and then closed it. She was, without a doubt, speechless.
"Yeah," said Harry miserably. "I don't like it either. Look, there's nothing you can say or do," he added truthfully, noting Cho's helpless look. Cho layed down again and pulled the covers over herself. "I have to go help England win a third Fire Quidditch game," he said, trying to sound perfectly fine. "Better get back to sleep."
He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the peaceful, light rain that had started outside, which helped to calm him down. Within a short enough amount of time, he had fallen sound asleep. Harry had been doing excellent at practice, but was his head in the right place? He would find out in a few short days...
Harry and Cho tried to escape Privet Drive right after breakfast. Aunt Marge made some inquiries as to where the game was, how many hooligans were playing, what sort of parent sends their kids to watch and most importantly --
"What game is it, then?" she boomed after setting down her glass of morning brandy.
Harry and Cho exchanged red faces.
"Quidditch," said Aunt Petunia to Harry and Cho's utter surprise.
"Quidditch?" Aunt Marge boomed, her bloodshot eyes peering at her brother, Uncle Vernon.
"Sort of a sport they made up. Kind of hard to explain," said Aunt Petunia flapping her hand in the air near her head, her other hand holding onto her mug of morning coffee.
Harry didn't know what to feel so he decided on feeling relieved. He quickly swallowed the last of his eggs and stood up much quicker than he intended.
"Well, better be getting ready now," he said hastily. "Have to get to my other friend's house because the location is closer to them. Staying there for a few nights," he told Aunt Marge who wasn't the least bit interested.
Cho followed suit and followed Harry up to his room.
"What d'you think that was all about?" said Harry, feeling his throat tighten. In his nervousness, he went to quickly packing a suitcase with clothing.
"I have a strong feeling her own son getting a Hogwarts letter is having a good effect on her," Cho answered, looking at Harry's hair.
Harry looked up at her and they both nodded, Harry then going back to packing his things.
"What are you taking?" Cho asked him.
"Everything. Quidditch robes, the staff, my wand... my broom," Harry said, glancing sideways at the Staff of Cybele, "...and the little bit of sleep I had last night," he added, muttering. Cho walked over and grabbed his shoulders.
"You'll do fine!" she said, shaking him.
Harry closed his eyes and rolled his head lazily, saying "Yeah, yeah... I'll do fine... If I cut a finger off, just make sure it's a clean cut down to my hand, okay?"
He opened his eyes and for a split second, he confused the look on Cho's face for one not unlike how Professor McGonagall sometimes gives him. She's a very strict teacher at Hogwarts with her hair always up in a tight bun. You didn't dare cross her, though she was, of course, a nice person once you got on her good side... which was very hard. Professor McGonagall had a great talent for making her lips go thinner than lines when she was angry or looking at someone so sharply you could swear she was looking through you.
When all was said and packed, Cho packing extra pairs of clothes for both of them ("Just in case!" she suggested) and also taking the time to neatly fold his Quidditch robes ("They'll crease! Do you want to be the only player with crinkly robes?"), they strode down the stairs and sat in the living room, watching television with Dudley. It was only eight-thirty.
For the entire hour and a half, Aunt Marge walked back and forth, muttering soundlessly to herself each time she passed Harry. During the last five minutes, Harry kept peering down at his gold wristwatch. Finally, there was a knock on the door at exactly ten o'clock.
Harry and Cho both sat up very suddenly and crossed the living room to the front door. Harry opened it.
"Hello Harry, Cho!" said Mr. Weasley, a great, big smile on his face. Aunt Petunia immediately snatched up Aunt Marge and headed upstairs; Harry was grateful.
It was obvious Mr. Weasley was straining his smile as he didn't like the Dursleys any more than his wife, Molly Weasley. She always flinched when you mentioned one of their names, not unlike how most people in the wizarding world flinch when you say Lord Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley probably wouldn't have hated them if they didn't treat Harry like something with green skin and twelve feet tall, carrying a club. Thinking harder, Harry remembered he had knocked out something much like that in his first year at Hogwarts. A long story...
Harry looked behind Mr. Weasley and saw the flaming red hair of Ron and Molly Weasley sticking out from an equally flaming red car. Harry's mouth dropped. It was a red sports car that wouldn't look out of place on a race track.
"You like it?" said Mr. Weasley, positively beaming at Harry. Harry, smiling, nodded. "A present from the Minis- -- er -- from the business. Dodge Viper! Custom built!"
Uncle Vernon peered out the front door and stared hungrily.
He usually graded people on how fast their cars were. When the Weasley's had once before come to pick Harry up, Uncle Vernon asked if they were coming by car. Harry wasn't sure if they were, and Mr. Weasley being a wizard, Uncle Vernon, he supposed, couldn't care less if the Weasleys had a Ferrari. Now that they did, he knew that it did make a difference but it was just that Uncle Vernon didn't want it to show...
The only thing that struck Harry as odd about this car was that it four doors and four seats, not the usual two and two that Vipers have normally... It didn't surprise him.
Mr. Weasley had a Ford Anglia a few years back and, against his wife's better judgement, bewitched the car to fly. Harry and Ron had accidently flown this car into the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts, a rather violent tree, when the platform to get onto the Hogwarts Express wouldn't let them pass. Platform nine and three-quarters lay hidden from the Muggle eye. You have to run straight at a solid-looking wall and you would pass through solid stone, onto the platform. This wall didn't let Harry and Ron pass one year, a fiasco due to a house elf intent on keeping Harry alive... Mr. Weasley's old car had taken up living quarters in the forbidden forest at Hogwarts. What also didn't surprise him was that the car was probably provided to them by the Ministry of Magic to see Harry safely on the train... When Sirius was suspected to be after Harry, much of the same thing had happened. Then, he minded. Now, he didn't.
When Uncle Vernon finally looked away from the car, Harry saw the same old look of detestment on his face when he turned to face Mr. Weasley. He came to accept this; there was just no changing him.
"Well, best be going now," said Mr. Weasley. "Got a long day tomorrow! Get your things, Harry."
Harry disappeared from sight with Ron, who had entered the house, and went up to Harry's room to grab the box he packed and bring it downstairs. He had to pack it; last year he spent an entire two days in Quidditch robes but with Aunt Marge about, he simply couldn't leave the house unless it was in a purely Muggle fashion.
"Good-bye," Harry muttered when they got back downstairs. Mr. Weasley accepted this. The first time when he hadn't, things turned ugly. "Come on, Cho," said Harry. Cho said a quick good-bye to Uncle Vernon, who didn't reply, though he was doing a very good job, Harry thought, of keeping the familiar vein in his temple from throbbing.
Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry when she opened the door to open the trunk. And with a slam of the house door by Uncle Vernon, one last gape at the mysterious Dodge Viper and stuffing his suitcase into the trunk, they were off.
Harry thought it was particularly quiet. At least until Mrs. Weasley piped up.
"Go on Arthur," she said, sounding irritable about something, "tell him. It's not like it's not the reason no one's talking."
Harry, suddenly worried, his mouth opening a little, looked at Ron, who merely shrugged.
"Really, Molly, is it necessary?" Mr. Weasley asked Mrs. Weasley.
"What?" said Harry loudly. "Is it about Voldemort?" Mr. Weasley nearly hit a mailbox at the sound of the name. "Sorry."
"Heavens no, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "It's just that, as you may have expected, this car is a little more than custom built!" she half-yelled, now thoroughly angry. Harry laughed. Mr. Weasley turned red.
"Been doing some modifications?" Harry asked, grinning.
"Oh a little more than modifications," said Mrs. Weasley, rounding on her husband like a hawk who's just found it's prey.
"I -- er -- as you can see I -- but we need four seats!" said Mr. Weasley firmly. "And the trunk... Oh Molly, it was so small!"
"They gave you a choice of a two seater, a four seater or a --"
"Molly, dear, the four seater was junk," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly.
Ron looked at Harry and laughed. The rest of the car ride wasn't as quiet after the bickering between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had tapered itself out -- Ron felt free to talk without being snapped at with "your father keeps modifying Muggle artifacts!" Mr. Weasley didn't seem to pay much attention to the fact that he worked for the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry of Magic.
With the Fire Quidditch game so close, Harry started to receieve... fan mail. Dumbledore had been sending loads of it to Harry and Hogwarts had been receiving lots of owls lately...
Dear Harry
Do you mind if I call you that? Is it ok? I'm sorry, I'm just a real big fan of yours. The way you caught the Spiked Snitch and didn't hurt yourself, I just fell in love. There's a picture of you hanging in my room, catching it over and over again!
Love,
Josephine
Freaked out, Harry handed it to Cho, who read it, giggled, then threw it out. Harry opened one that had come from Sirius.
Harry,
Watch your back. I don't want you outside that house without your staff in your hands. I'm coming to the game along with Remus, Severus and Arabella. We want you to play but we want it to be safe. We also want you to win but that's another story. Have fun and don't worry about You-Know-Who.
See you on the fifteenth,
Sirius
Harry supposed Sirius didn't write Voldemort's name down because he just didn't want to worry Harry with it. He was, of course, happy he would be seeing Sirius. After reading it once more, he passed the letter onto Cho, who read it, fully agreed with it and then stuffed it under the loose floorboards.
"It's a good thing Dumbledore is smart enough to only send these owls at night," said Harry, cutting up Hermione's still amazingly-fresh birthday cake and handing a piece to Cho. "Who knows what the neighbors would say."
They both giggled in silence. One last letter from Ron said that Ron's dad, Arthur Weasley, would be picking them up in their new family car at ten.
Since they've been spending so much time together -- all day and all night for the past few weeks, in fact -- Harry's nervousness had died away completely. They had been friends for so long, and for so long, Harry had never experienced... this feeling. He still wasn't ready to admit to it. Someone had once told him what it was but he didn't want to say it himself. It was on the fourteenth that something finally hit Harry.
"I'm gonna miss you this year, you know," he said over dinner.
Aunt Petunia and Dudley all seemed to have disappeared from view as his thoughts wandered onto the fact that Cho had graduated Hogwarts the previous year. Uncle Vernon had taken Aunt Marge out to dinner on Aunt Petunia's orders -- they went looking for houses for Aunt Marge to buy. So far, everyone had been eating in silence, so breaking the silence must be good no matter what the subject, right?
Cho chewed quickly and then said, smiling pleasantly, "We can still see each other -- I'm not going anywhere any time soon." Harry knew this, but he didn't care -- he would like to be able to spend his last year at Hogwarts with her. "Mom's finally listening to me and sending Dad back to the hospital, see if he gets any better."
"You two have any plans to stay together?" said Aunt Petunia suddenly. Harry almost choked on his food.
"What? You mean you're trying to talk to me without shrieking?" Harry asked her. Aunt Petunia gave Harry a piercing look then went back to her dinner.
"Don't be so surprised," she said quickly, sounding slightly cold. "It's taken me sixteen long years to get over your mother -- and I'm still not -- but... Dudley..."
"Oh, this is all about Dudley, is it?" Harry snapped.
"Send him for a year, Mrs. Dursley," said Cho slowly, afraid she might get yelled at. "What's the harm?"
"What's the harm?" Aunt Petunia repeatedly loudly, her voice shaking slightly. She clasped a hand to her forehead. Cho noticed that she had said too much. "Finish eating your dinner and go back upstairs."
Harry caught Cho's gaze and rolled his eyes at Aunt Petunia.
"The Quidditch game is in two days," he said. "We'll be out of your hair early in the morning. We need to leave two days early to get there." He finished the last of the tasty chicken wings and then tossed the plate at the sink.
Cho and Aunt Petunia watched in horror as it flew across the kitchen. It would have shattered into pieces but it slowed down before it came in contact with the bottom of the sink. Harry stopped moving for a few seconds to look at what he had accidently done... or wasn't it an accident and it was just that he wanted to look angry?
Cho put her knife and fork in the plate, picked it up (intending to just get away from the table and eat upstairs), grabbed Harry's arm and marched him up to his room. She sat on the bed Raides had magicked in since the first day. Harry sat on his bed, his back to Cho. She opened her mouth but Harry read her mind.
"I don't know what that was," he said in a quiet voice. "It's almost like the mark of ancients is back."
The mark of ancients was a mysterious mark that the very old wizards, known as ancients, ancients were known for. Harry found out that he had this. His dad, James Potter, was a descendent of an ancient. When no one had shown the mark for five thousand years, upon Harry being returned from the hospital, his skin glittered golden then glowed white, before disappearing -- this was the mark of the ancients. It had returned in full measure just two years ago but had to be removed. The mark is capable of being used against it's owner, putting them under a permanent Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgiveable Curses, a curse which puts the target under complete control of the caster. Unforgiveable Curses land the caster, if the target is another fellow witch or wizard, in the horrible wizard prison, Azkaban. That didn't stop Voldemort from trying to control Harry... Harry guessed this was why Voldemort wanted him dead, but even with the mark gone...
"Your skin isn't glowing -- you don't have it. Look, what are we fretting over," said Cho after she had just finished chewing (and she chewed still more quickly). "You heard what Sirius and Dumbledore said. You didn't really want to shatter that plate, did you?" Harry shook his head. "Right. So, you're just getting very good at magic, that's all."
"Yeah," said Harry softly, "I'm just getting very good at it..."
"Oh come on, Harry!" Cho said pleadingly, forgetting all about her food and putting it aside. "Forget about it. What are you getting yourself worked up for? It's nothing, really. Concentrate on getting England that Fire Quidditch Cup for a third time!"
She stood up, crossed the room and sat next to him.
"I don't know," he said, turning around. "First there's the bit with the mark of ancients, then we get rid of it. Then there's the thing last year with the Spiked Snitch, Professor Flitwick having to make me swallow a potion of Draught of Living Death because no one could move me and flinging Madam Pomfrey across a room like a Quaffle."
Harry had quite a fright last year to see Sirius with most of his soul missing, a state in which it was safe to consider him dead. Madam Pomfrey and Severus Snape had tried a potion to cure Sirius but it backfired. The year before, half of it had been sucked out by a dementor, the potion pulling even more out, when Harry tried to rescue him from Azkaban. Sirius had been sent to Azkaban in the first place because he had been framed by Pettigrew for the death of several Muggles, the death of Harry's parents and Pettigrew himself the day Voldemort tried to kill Harry.
Sirius was immediately sent to Azkaban without a trial and was there for thirteen years, up until Harry's third year at Hogwarts, when Sirius managed to escape. A longer story ensues... With the entire wizarding world believing Sirius to be on Voldemort's side, they thought Harry was in danger but the year ended with Harry, Ron and Hermione confronting Sirius, who was really after Ron's then pet rat, Scabbers. Scabbers was really Pettigrew, who had been hiding ever since that day...
Pettigrew escaped and Sirius was forced into hiding until his name had finally been cleared just a few years later. Pettigrew died just last year. Having had his life spared by Harry from Sirius (Sirius wanted Pettigrew dead, Harry suggested Pettigrew go to Azkaban so as to not turn his godfather into a real murderer), he betrayed Voldemort and it meant the eventual end of him...
"Sirius said you're bound to find out more things about yourself that might scare you but he also said you shouldn't let it bother you, remember?" said Cho comfortingly. "This is just one of those things. You'll find out what it is, just don't let it get to you. And don't you dare tell me it's too late for that," she added sharply, watching Harry's mouth open. He smiled weakly. "Now come on, you're still hungry. Take my plate" -- she handed it to him -- "and eat. You need your strength if you're going to kick the United States' butt again. I'll get something from downstairs or finish off Hermione's cake if your aunt put it away already."
Cho grabbed some desert Aunt Petunia had out for Dudley. She spent the rest of the night coaching Harry into how to react should something else happen during the Quidditch game. The biggest part of this plan was --
"So how the bloody hell am I supposed to prevent my hand from getting torn off, then?" said Harry hotly.
Cho glared at him for a second before getting up and walking over to the Staff of Cybele.
"What... ?" said Harry, a bemused expression on his face.
"Here," Cho said, handing the so-far lifeless staff to him. "Let's see what she's got to say."
Harry took the staff from her and as usual, it sprang to life and purred softly. Cho sat on the chair at Harry's desk.
"Well, good afternoon," said Raides pleasantly.
"Cho has some sort of strange idea you can help me with the Spiked Snitch," said Harry.
"Harry," said Raides, staring at him like he was missing the obvious and had just asked a dumb question. She raised one of her squashed eyes provocatively. Harry nearly bursted out laughing at the sight of a fierce animal in the shape of a staff trying to look lady-like so she stopped. "Don't want to have a repeat of last year, do we?" she asked.
Cho told Raides what had just happened in the kitchen and Raides squealed with delight when she finished.
"If you can do that, you can do this. Here," she said, full of purpose. "Summon a fork from downstairs with me." A few seconds later, with a pop, a fork appeared before their eyes and fell to the ground which surprised both Harry and Cho. Summoning Charms don't teleport the object, they move it. "Welcome to the ancient magic version of Charms," Raides explained. "Pick it up, stare at the prongs, point me at it and say 'Furcilla Leviosa.'"
"But, that's just going to move them. And besides, I can't use you, I'll be riding you. What... ?" Harry said slowly, that bemused expression back on his face.
"Do it."
Harry did as told, feeling this was pointless.
"Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted, pointing Raides at the prongs on the fork. Cho ducked for dear life as the four prongs broke off and flew in every which direction. One of them crashed into the mirror inside Harry's wardrobe and cracked it. Harry crossed the room towards it and waved Raides frantically.
"Speculum," she said lazily.
"Speculum Reparo!" said Harry. The cracked glass of the mirror sped across the floor, reattaching itself and it was as if there was no damage ever done. "The point of that was?"
Raides didn't reply. Harry pointed her at the handle of the fork and put it back together with a glow of the crystal. "Now try that again," she said. "This time, without me."
"Nothing's going to happen," said Harry flatly.
"Oh really?" said Raides, smiling.
This made Harry raise an eyebrow. Cho looked excited. Raides transformed into a lion and propped herself up on Harry's bed to get a better look.
Harry picked up the fork from the floor and stupidly pointed a finger at it. "Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted again. Nothing happened. He put his hands down and frowned at Raides first, then Cho.
"Going to give up already, are we?" said Raides, her tail raised, a superior expression on her face rather like a teacher looking at a student as if she waiting for the student to realize something. "And don't point your finger at it like you're telling it to go to it's room. That just makes me want to laugh," she said with a straight face. Cho bursted out laughing.
"Right," Harry muttered. This time, he pointed a lazy finger at the fork and said once again, "Furcilla Leviosa!" Nothing happened. He jabbed the fork with his finger and said it again. Still, nothing happened. "FUR --" he shouted, grabbing the prongs with his hand and holding the handle with the other. "CILLA!" He tried with all his might to bend the fork. "LEVIOSA!" He cracked it in half.
"That's not what I really had intended, you know," said Raides. She changed back into a staff, he fixed the fork and she transformed back into a lion. "Not used to doing magic without a wand, are you?"
"He's only been doing it accidently," Cho told Raides.
"Only when you were angry or scared, right?" said Raides to Harry. "Do you remember in what situations you were able to do magic BEFORE you knew you were a wizard?"
The train of thought in Harry's head derailed and crashed. He had only ever done magic before he knew he was a wizard when he was angry or scared. What was Raides getting at?
"I -- don't get you," said Harry, shaking his head.
"It's just like when you first learned magic. They only give you that silly wand to help you concentrate more. You're so used to doing it with a wand now, you forget that you don't need one."
"Then -- then why don't I just try it with a wand," said Harry.
"If you can do it without a wand, you can do it even better with a wand," said Raides, the corner of her upper lip curling with delight. "And besides. You're good. Everyone says you're good. You know you're good. You're really --"
"Okay, I get the idea," Harry said loudly, his ears turning pink.
"If you're ever without a wand," Raides went on, "what are you going to do?"
"Panic and run like hell?" Harry suggested.
"No," said Raides sharply. "You -- especially -- don't need a wand. That, and I hate to say it but you should try all you can to get even better, because, well... you know..."
Harry knew; Raides didn't have to say it. If Voldemort was ever going to try something, he wasn't going to take his time.
"Did the ancients need wands?" Cho asked Raides.
"Ah, I don't remember." She screwed her beautiful, golden face up in confusion, evidently thinking hard. She growled angrily and said, "I just can't remember!"
"Yeah," Harry assured her quickly. "Sirius said they couldn't do much of anything, but once they had the mark..." Cho was staring at him. "What," he said, "so I actually can cast spells without the mark. So what?"
Cho put a hand to her mouth as if to force back something she was thinking of saying and stood up suddenly, turning away from Harry. Harry, however, had enough.
"Whatever it is, I'll figure it out," said Harry at Cho's back. Cho didn't reply so he instead turned to look at the fork again, giving it a scornful stare. He squinted one eye and aimed his finger at it. "Furcilla Leviosa!" he shouted. Nothing. He pointed both of his index fingers at it. "Furcilla Leviosa! Nothing. He stood up. "You stupid fork!" he shouted angrily. "Furcilla Leviosa!"
"At least he's trying," Raides whispered with a smile in Cho's ear so Harry couldn't hear.
By now, Harry had all ten fingers pointed at the fork, looking rather like he was trying to make it float away. "Fur -- cil -- la -- Lev -- i -- o -- sa!" He heaved a great sigh, turned, sat back down, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, frustrated, still glaring at the fork.
"You gave a good effort, Harry. Didn't he, Cho?" said Raides, slapping Cho on the leg with her tail.
Harry sighed again, straightening up. "Accio wand," he said without thinking, stretching a hand out to his wand. The loose floorboards gave a quiver and his wand shot out of them and jumped into his hand. Cho and Raides stared. So did Harry.
"You idiot," said Cho reprovingly, yet smiling. "Try the fork again."
"Furcilla Leviosa!" Harry shouted one last time, staring at the fork, his hand stretched out to it. The tip of one of the prongs bent, but barely noticeably. Harry smiled broadly at his achievement, however minor it was.
"Now you can practice all night until you get it!" said Raides happily. Cho didn't look too enthused. "But don't expect to be able to shatter them like you did with me." Harry nodded; he didn't hope to.
They spent a good several hours. Harry was able to graduate to making the very tip of a prong crack off. He could easily break them all off with his wand but it was a much different story without it. Cho couldn't do anything without her wand. She suggested that Harry practice some more tomorrow at the Burrow. Breaking off four prongs from a fork wasn't so hard but there were at least twenty tiny blades on the Spiked Snitch... !
The sun had been down a long time, the sound of crickets echoing off the walls, before they went to bed. Harry let Raides stay as a lion as she promised she would stay invisible.
Before the sun was even up and the crickets were still chirping -- perhaps it was anxiety for the Fire Quidditch game, perhaps it was the thought of Voldemort -- but Harry got an unpleasant wake-up call. Breathing hard and fast, eyes wide like small tennis balls, Harry sprang up like a mousetrap from the dream once again.
He took a quick look around his bedroom in Privet Drive, letting, hoping, wishing the dream with the flash of green light speeding toward him would stop coming back again and again. Cho was sound asleep just across from him and Raides was curled up on the floor like an elaborate rug.
Harry pushed his bangs away and ran a finger over his lightning-shaped scar. It hadn't hurt him for a long time and that was something to be happy about. He then groped around on his bedside table for not his glasses, but the Order of Merlin necklace. Raides heard him knock over his gold wristwatch.
"Harry," she said groggily, without the slightest change of position or even opening her eyes. She stuck her scarlet tail in the air and didn't need to say anything else... Harry's fast breathing told her all she needed to know.
The Order of Merlin plaque did all Harry hoped it would, immediately slowing his breathing down a little and letting his shoulders slowly sink to how they layed naturally -- not several inches above their normal resting place. He layed back down and stared blankly up at the ceiling, his mouth still open slightly. Something in him wanted Raides to say nothing because it would be far too embarassing if Cho woke up -- he hadn't told her about it yet. But that same something wanted Cho to wake up. Lately, he felt like he could tell her anything and it was a very good, warming feeling to know that he could confide in someone.
Reading Harry's mind, Raides woke Cho by tickling her face with her fuzzy, scarlet tail.
"What," she said groggily, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"
"Go on, I'm not telling," said Raides, now resting her golden head on her paws on the floor and looking up at Harry.
He apprehensively and slowly told Cho all about the dream in a flat, toneless voice. By the time he had finished, she had been sitting up and looking intently at Harry with a tear in her eye.
There was silence while Raides scratched her ear with a paw. Harry thought it looked rather cute but it didn't drown out the dream. His mother's voice, "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead," kept repeating in his head like a broken record player.
Cho closed her mouth, swallowed, opened it as if to say something, managed nothing but "I" and then closed it. She was, without a doubt, speechless.
"Yeah," said Harry miserably. "I don't like it either. Look, there's nothing you can say or do," he added truthfully, noting Cho's helpless look. Cho layed down again and pulled the covers over herself. "I have to go help England win a third Fire Quidditch game," he said, trying to sound perfectly fine. "Better get back to sleep."
He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the peaceful, light rain that had started outside, which helped to calm him down. Within a short enough amount of time, he had fallen sound asleep. Harry had been doing excellent at practice, but was his head in the right place? He would find out in a few short days...
Harry and Cho tried to escape Privet Drive right after breakfast. Aunt Marge made some inquiries as to where the game was, how many hooligans were playing, what sort of parent sends their kids to watch and most importantly --
"What game is it, then?" she boomed after setting down her glass of morning brandy.
Harry and Cho exchanged red faces.
"Quidditch," said Aunt Petunia to Harry and Cho's utter surprise.
"Quidditch?" Aunt Marge boomed, her bloodshot eyes peering at her brother, Uncle Vernon.
"Sort of a sport they made up. Kind of hard to explain," said Aunt Petunia flapping her hand in the air near her head, her other hand holding onto her mug of morning coffee.
Harry didn't know what to feel so he decided on feeling relieved. He quickly swallowed the last of his eggs and stood up much quicker than he intended.
"Well, better be getting ready now," he said hastily. "Have to get to my other friend's house because the location is closer to them. Staying there for a few nights," he told Aunt Marge who wasn't the least bit interested.
Cho followed suit and followed Harry up to his room.
"What d'you think that was all about?" said Harry, feeling his throat tighten. In his nervousness, he went to quickly packing a suitcase with clothing.
"I have a strong feeling her own son getting a Hogwarts letter is having a good effect on her," Cho answered, looking at Harry's hair.
Harry looked up at her and they both nodded, Harry then going back to packing his things.
"What are you taking?" Cho asked him.
"Everything. Quidditch robes, the staff, my wand... my broom," Harry said, glancing sideways at the Staff of Cybele, "...and the little bit of sleep I had last night," he added, muttering. Cho walked over and grabbed his shoulders.
"You'll do fine!" she said, shaking him.
Harry closed his eyes and rolled his head lazily, saying "Yeah, yeah... I'll do fine... If I cut a finger off, just make sure it's a clean cut down to my hand, okay?"
He opened his eyes and for a split second, he confused the look on Cho's face for one not unlike how Professor McGonagall sometimes gives him. She's a very strict teacher at Hogwarts with her hair always up in a tight bun. You didn't dare cross her, though she was, of course, a nice person once you got on her good side... which was very hard. Professor McGonagall had a great talent for making her lips go thinner than lines when she was angry or looking at someone so sharply you could swear she was looking through you.
When all was said and packed, Cho packing extra pairs of clothes for both of them ("Just in case!" she suggested) and also taking the time to neatly fold his Quidditch robes ("They'll crease! Do you want to be the only player with crinkly robes?"), they strode down the stairs and sat in the living room, watching television with Dudley. It was only eight-thirty.
For the entire hour and a half, Aunt Marge walked back and forth, muttering soundlessly to herself each time she passed Harry. During the last five minutes, Harry kept peering down at his gold wristwatch. Finally, there was a knock on the door at exactly ten o'clock.
Harry and Cho both sat up very suddenly and crossed the living room to the front door. Harry opened it.
"Hello Harry, Cho!" said Mr. Weasley, a great, big smile on his face. Aunt Petunia immediately snatched up Aunt Marge and headed upstairs; Harry was grateful.
It was obvious Mr. Weasley was straining his smile as he didn't like the Dursleys any more than his wife, Molly Weasley. She always flinched when you mentioned one of their names, not unlike how most people in the wizarding world flinch when you say Lord Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley probably wouldn't have hated them if they didn't treat Harry like something with green skin and twelve feet tall, carrying a club. Thinking harder, Harry remembered he had knocked out something much like that in his first year at Hogwarts. A long story...
Harry looked behind Mr. Weasley and saw the flaming red hair of Ron and Molly Weasley sticking out from an equally flaming red car. Harry's mouth dropped. It was a red sports car that wouldn't look out of place on a race track.
"You like it?" said Mr. Weasley, positively beaming at Harry. Harry, smiling, nodded. "A present from the Minis- -- er -- from the business. Dodge Viper! Custom built!"
Uncle Vernon peered out the front door and stared hungrily.
He usually graded people on how fast their cars were. When the Weasley's had once before come to pick Harry up, Uncle Vernon asked if they were coming by car. Harry wasn't sure if they were, and Mr. Weasley being a wizard, Uncle Vernon, he supposed, couldn't care less if the Weasleys had a Ferrari. Now that they did, he knew that it did make a difference but it was just that Uncle Vernon didn't want it to show...
The only thing that struck Harry as odd about this car was that it four doors and four seats, not the usual two and two that Vipers have normally... It didn't surprise him.
Mr. Weasley had a Ford Anglia a few years back and, against his wife's better judgement, bewitched the car to fly. Harry and Ron had accidently flown this car into the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts, a rather violent tree, when the platform to get onto the Hogwarts Express wouldn't let them pass. Platform nine and three-quarters lay hidden from the Muggle eye. You have to run straight at a solid-looking wall and you would pass through solid stone, onto the platform. This wall didn't let Harry and Ron pass one year, a fiasco due to a house elf intent on keeping Harry alive... Mr. Weasley's old car had taken up living quarters in the forbidden forest at Hogwarts. What also didn't surprise him was that the car was probably provided to them by the Ministry of Magic to see Harry safely on the train... When Sirius was suspected to be after Harry, much of the same thing had happened. Then, he minded. Now, he didn't.
When Uncle Vernon finally looked away from the car, Harry saw the same old look of detestment on his face when he turned to face Mr. Weasley. He came to accept this; there was just no changing him.
"Well, best be going now," said Mr. Weasley. "Got a long day tomorrow! Get your things, Harry."
Harry disappeared from sight with Ron, who had entered the house, and went up to Harry's room to grab the box he packed and bring it downstairs. He had to pack it; last year he spent an entire two days in Quidditch robes but with Aunt Marge about, he simply couldn't leave the house unless it was in a purely Muggle fashion.
"Good-bye," Harry muttered when they got back downstairs. Mr. Weasley accepted this. The first time when he hadn't, things turned ugly. "Come on, Cho," said Harry. Cho said a quick good-bye to Uncle Vernon, who didn't reply, though he was doing a very good job, Harry thought, of keeping the familiar vein in his temple from throbbing.
Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry when she opened the door to open the trunk. And with a slam of the house door by Uncle Vernon, one last gape at the mysterious Dodge Viper and stuffing his suitcase into the trunk, they were off.
Harry thought it was particularly quiet. At least until Mrs. Weasley piped up.
"Go on Arthur," she said, sounding irritable about something, "tell him. It's not like it's not the reason no one's talking."
Harry, suddenly worried, his mouth opening a little, looked at Ron, who merely shrugged.
"Really, Molly, is it necessary?" Mr. Weasley asked Mrs. Weasley.
"What?" said Harry loudly. "Is it about Voldemort?" Mr. Weasley nearly hit a mailbox at the sound of the name. "Sorry."
"Heavens no, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "It's just that, as you may have expected, this car is a little more than custom built!" she half-yelled, now thoroughly angry. Harry laughed. Mr. Weasley turned red.
"Been doing some modifications?" Harry asked, grinning.
"Oh a little more than modifications," said Mrs. Weasley, rounding on her husband like a hawk who's just found it's prey.
"I -- er -- as you can see I -- but we need four seats!" said Mr. Weasley firmly. "And the trunk... Oh Molly, it was so small!"
"They gave you a choice of a two seater, a four seater or a --"
"Molly, dear, the four seater was junk," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly.
Ron looked at Harry and laughed. The rest of the car ride wasn't as quiet after the bickering between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had tapered itself out -- Ron felt free to talk without being snapped at with "your father keeps modifying Muggle artifacts!" Mr. Weasley didn't seem to pay much attention to the fact that he worked for the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry of Magic.