"Ron!" breathed Harry, dashing to the window and opening it so they could talk. "Ron, how did you -- What the --?"

Harry's mouth fell open as the full impact of what she was seeing hit her. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in midair. Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers.

"All right Harry?" asked the twin who Harry thought was George

"What's been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of muggles."

"Well, I don't know anything about a warning, but would you believe the letters were stopped by a well-meaning house-elf?"

"We need to hear that story later," said the twin Harry thought was Fred.

"But for now just get your stuff and hop in." said the other.

"All of my stuff is locked in the cupboard downstairs," Harry said, "even my wand, so I can't magic it open."

"Leave that to us!" the twins said together and climbed catlike through Harry's window. Harry followed them downstairs and guided them past the creaky step.

"Let me just borrow that," Fred said, pulling a hairpin from Harry's hair.

"Most wizards find think it a waste to know this sort of muggle trick," said George

"But here is where it comes quite in handy," Fred finished, with the lock giving a satisfying click.

The twins silently took Harry's trunk -- which had never even been opened after arriving at the Dursley's at the start of the summer holiday -- and her broom, leaving Harry to grab her wand off the floor and sneak back upstairs.

Harry went into a mad dash, as Ron and the twins pushed her trunk through the window and into the car, collecting everything in her room she wouldn't want to be left behind.

"Can you get Hedwig's cage unlocked too?" Harry asked. "She's been locked up all summer.

"How terrible!"

"How vile!"

"We'll do that,"

"Right away!" the twins finished off their special twin way of speaking and got right to work unlocking Hedwig's cage. She must have been just as excited for freedom as Harry was because she let out a loud "Screeeech!!" as she soared from her cage.

"THAT RUDDY OWL!"

"Quick! Hurry!"

The twins tossed the now-empty cage to Harry who handed it to Ron as she climbed in. The landing light flicked on while the Twins dashed across the room. The twins were scrambling over the window sill as Uncle Vernon banged on the unlocked door, which fell open. For a split second, everyone was stunned. Then Uncle Vernon bellowed as the twins scrambled into their seats. The twins drove away, right at the moon, as Uncle Vernon stood by the window, not sure whether he should be angry or glad.

Harry couldn't believe it -- she was free. She rolled down the window, the night air tuning her hair to snakes, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. All three Dursleys were now looking out the window, all unsure how to feel.

"See you next summer!" Harry yelled.

The Weasleys roared with laughter and Harry settled back into her seat, grinning from ear to ear.

"So --" said Fred

"What were you saying about a well-meaning house-elf?" George finished.

Harry then proceeded to tell them all about Dobby, and her amazing save with Hannah's persuasion. The was a long, shocked silence when she had finished.

"Very fishy," said Fred finally.

"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don't think he could," said Harry. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he'd try and hit himself with something.

She saw Fred and George look at each other.

"What, you think he was lying to me?" said Harry.

"Well," said Fred.

"Put it this way," said George

"House-elves have got powerful magic of their own," Fred continued.

"But they can't really use it without their master's permission," George finished.

"I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts," Fred said.

"Someone's idea of a joke," George responded.

"Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?" Fred asked.

"Yes," said Ron instantly, with Harry half a second behind.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry explained. "He hates me."

"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around in his seat.

"Not Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred inquired.

"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry. "Why?"

"We've heard Dad talking about him," said George.

"He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who," Fred stated.

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," George began.

"Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it," Fred finished.

"Load of dung," said George.

"Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle."

Harry'd heard these rumors about the Malfoy family before, she didn't necessarily feel that his father's actions guarantee Malfoy was a bad kid, but he did that on his own.

"We don't even know if the Malfoys own a house-elf. . . ." said Harry.

"Well, whoever owns him will be an old Wizarding family," said Fred.

"And they'll be rich," said George.

"Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf do the ironing."

"But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden."

"House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that."

"You wouldn't catch one in our house . . ."

Harry was silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizarding gold; she could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had Harry been stupid to take Dobby seriously?

"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first --"

"Who's Errol?"

"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes --"

"Who?"

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," said Fred from the front.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," said Ron. "Said he needed him."

"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning.

"And he has been sending a lot of letters," said Fred.

"And spending a load of time shut up in his room," George added.

"I mean, the's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge," Fred finished.

"You're driving too far west, Fred," George commented, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Fred twiddled the steering wheel.

"Are flying cars common in wizarding families?" Harry asked, realizing she never really questioned it.

"Er, no," said Ron. "It's Dad's, he enchanted it. We wouldn't've been able to come get you if he wasn't still at work. Hopefully, we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."

"What does your dad do?"

"He works in the most boring department of the Ministry of Magic," said Ron. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"The what?"

"It's all to do with bewitching things that are muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a muggle shop or house. Like last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antiques shop. This muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare -- Dad was working overtime for weeks."

"What happened?"

"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic -- it's only him and an old wizard called Perkins in the office -- the cost for them to get Obliviators had them working overtime."

"But your dad -- this car --"

Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with muggles."

"Our shed's full of muggle stuff," George added.

"He takes it apart," Fred said.

"Puts spells on it," George continued.

"And puts it back together again," Fred rounded.

"If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest," George said.

"It drives Mum mad." Fred chuckled.

"That's the main road," George stated, peering down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes.

"Just as well, it's getting light. . . ." Fred said.

A faint pink glow was visible along the horizon to the east.

Fred brought the car lower, and Harry saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.

"We're a little way outside the village," said George.

"Ottery St. Catchpole." Fred supplied.

Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees.

"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry looked out for the first time and Ron's house.

It looked as though it had once been a large pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there -- another seemingly in progress midway up -- until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which, Harry reminded herself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusted cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

"It's not much," said Ron.

"It's wonderful," said Harry happily, comparing it to the bland standardness of Privet Drive.

They got out of the car.

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred.

"And wait for Mum to call us for breakfast," George added.

"Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs," Fred continued.

"Going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!'" George supplied.

"And she'll be all pleased to see Harry" Fred stated.

"And no one need ever know we flew the car." George finished.

"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the -- at the top --"

Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The other three wheeled around.

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.

"Ah," Fred exclaimed.

"Oh, dear," said George.

Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.

"So," she said.

"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasly in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to --"

All three of the boys were taller than Mrs. Weasley, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.

"Beds empty! No note! Car gone -- could have crashed -- out of my mind with worry -- did you care? -- never, as long as I've lived -- you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy --"

"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have died, you could have --"

"Please don't be mad at them, Mrs. Weasley, they were just making sure I was safe." Harry cut in. "I know there were many better ways they could've done it, but I'm still very grateful."

Mrs. Weasly looked at Harry, stunned. "I -- I suppose it all worked out in the end." Mrs. Weasly then looked back to her sons and sternly said, "But you aren't getting off scot-free for the worry you put me through. We'll address that later though, for now, let's go inside for breakfast. And, Harry dear, I like what you've done with your hair."

"Thank you, I've been waiting for these plonkers to mention it and they just haven't."

They all made their way inside, the boys embarrassed about neglecting to mention Harry's hair. The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry sat down on the edge of her seat, looking around. She had never been in a wizarding house before.

The clock on the wall opposite her had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to Make Tea, Time to Feed the Chickens, and You're Late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantments in Baking, and One Minute Feasts -- It's Magic! And unless Harry's ears were deceiving her, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up next was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, clearly still upset with her sons by the dirty looks she was throwing them, but seemed satisfied with letting them worry about their later punishment.

"Do you want to tell them?" Ron whispered. Fred and George heard anyway, but Harry appreciated the attempt at subtlety.

"I don't see why not," said Harry.

"A secret we don't know?" said Fred.

"You can't not tell us now," George stated.

"Ron, you knew that'd tease your brothers, don't do that." Mrs. Weasley chastised.

"I wasn't trying to!" Ron whined.

"Tell us!" said the twins, manic grins on their faces.

"I'm not a wizard." Harry teased.

"What?" All but one Weasly in the room asked.

"I thought I was, till Christmas."

"Don't tease them, Harry; she's a trans!" Ron said.

"It's not 'a trans,' it's just 'trans'. . ." Harry said as two faces broke into a grin, one returned to shock, hers lit up red, and the last looked rather smug.

"We have an ickle Potter Princess!" Fred Shouted.

"Is there another name?" George asked.

"Mum, have you seen my --" A small, red-haired girl began as she entered the room. Her eyes locked onto Harry, then her face slowly turned to match her hair.

"Hullo," Harry said awkwardly.

The girl let out a small squeak and fled the room.

"Don't mind Ginny, she's just your biggest fan," said Ron

"She'll want your autograph," said Fred.

"After she stops being nervous around you," George joked.

Soon, everyone was fed, Fred and George were put to cleaning the dishes, Ron was sent to get all of Harry's stuff from the car, and Harry was offered to go to sleep, but decided instead to go find Ginny.

The inside of The Burrow was just as incredible as the outside. Every flight of stairs led to another landing with a single door each. The walls had peeling paint, a few scorch marks from, and outside every door spoke volumes of the occupant's character.

Outside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room had a currently unoccupied hat and coat rack. Percy's landing was clean and clear, you'd think it was a guest room. Peeking out from under the twins' door, were multiple scorch marks. Harry knew she'd found Ginny's room when she reached the landing, the wallpaper was decorated with hand-painted vines, beautiful red flowers growing from them.

A small squeak came from inside the room when Harry knocked, as well as a few thumps implying fallen items.

"J- Just a minute!" Ginny called.

Harry went back to admiring the artwork. She couldn't help but wonder if Ginny painted it herself.

"Okay, what do you need, Mo --?" Ginny asked as she opened the door. Once again, the youngest Weasley's face slowly matched her hair.

It was at this moment that Harry realized she had no idea what her plan was. She couldn't answer why she wanted to find Ginny, what she was going to say to her, let alone get past the almost palpable awkwardness between them. Harry couldn't help but notice that the vines spread throughout Ginny's room as well, spattered between multiple hand-painted scenes of a red-haired family.

"Did you do those yourself?" Harry asked before she realized she was saying it.

"Oh -- erm -- yeah." Ginny sputtered. "They aren't that good -- I know -- but it's fun to do."

Harry couldn't stop herself from entering the room and marveling at the painting of a crimson train leaving a station above Ginny's bed, at a mural of a vast field with the Burrow in the distance along the front wall, and at the painting of a girl with long black hair and green eyes and a streak of red beginning to be painted.

Harry was certain her face was a deeper red than the streak in her hair.

The portrait of Harry was then covered by a wardrobe being pushed by a stammering and embarrassed Ginny.

"I'm sorry -- I should have asked -- I just needed the practice painting people -- it's horrible, I know --" Ginny continued on like that for a while, despite the fact that Harry didn't seem to hear any of it.

Just then, the front door slammed.

"Dad's Home!" Ginny exclaimed, rushing out and down the stairs.

Harry finally shook herself out of her stupor, following Ginny quickly.

Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as all the children in the house sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to hex me when I had my back turned. . . ."

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness. . . ."

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" said George.

"Just muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. . . . Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking -- they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face. . . . But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe --"

"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"

Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.

"C-cars, Molly, dear?"

"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."

Mr. Weasley blinked.

"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if -- er -- he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth. . . . The law's quite particular, you'll find. . . . As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't --"

"Artur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry who?"

He looked around, saw Harry, and jumped.

"Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about --"

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's and back last night!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley, eagerly glancing between his sons. "Did it go alri --"

Mrs. Weasley smacked Mr. Weasley on the head with a dirty cloth.

"I -- I mean, that -- that was very wrong, boys -- wrong indeed. . . ."

That seemed to appease Mrs. Weasley for now, because she turned to Harry and said, "You can stay with Ron, dear."

"Hang on," Ron protested. "Why's she staying with me?"

"She?" Mr. Weasley and Ginny said, rivaling Fred and George with their identical tones and expressions of confusion.

"Right, you left -- you weren't home," Ron said, looking at his sister and father respectively. "Harry's a witch, same as Charlie's a witcher."

"Because where else would she stay?" Mrs. Weasley continued, seemingly used to interruptions.

"With Ginny?" Fred suggested.

"They are both girls," George supplied.

Harry seemed to be the only one to notice Ginny's face light up again.

"Well, Harry's not a real girl, is she?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry's brain seemed to sputter to a stop. Her vision blurred, and distant gasps filled the room. A hand was placed on her's and another on her back.

"Mum!" a pair of voices shouted.

"Oh, dear."

"Harry?"

"She's wrong."

"You can stay with me, Mum just doesn't get it."

Harry wasn't quite sure when she'd done it, but she'd gone over to a small alcove underneath the stairs. Ron and Ginny were looking at her worriedly, Mr. Weasley looked very uncomfortable caught between Mrs. Weasley and the twins glaring match.

"No -- it's fine -- it'd just be awkward," Harry was saying before she could stop herself. "I'm used to sharing a room with Ron anyway." Harry crawled past them and walked up the stairs until she reached the top. The only landing that didn't really show any personality, Ron's. Harry stepped in, her head almost touching the sloping ceiling. Nearly everything was a violent shade of orange thanks to the posters that Ron had plastered everywhere of the same seven people, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

It didn't seem like Ron had much, a wizard's chess set sat on a small desk-- the same Harry had often lost against a few months ago, Scabbers sat on the windowsill in a patch of sun right next to Ron's wand.

Harry quickly went over to a corner, sat down, and stayed there.

It's still loads better than the Dursley's, Harry thought as Ron and Ginny sat next to her.