Hello all! I might get more updates rolling out for the week because it's the holidays (yay!). So to celebrate, I'm giving you chapter three!
Remember guys, I'm not the wonderful JKR, so I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter three: The Burrow
As Jessica stared, wide-eyed at the underside of the car above, and unmistakeable voice floated down to her ears. "What's been going on?"
"Ron," whispered Jessica. Ronald Weasley had come to Privet Drive in a flying car. Ducking her head back into her room, Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. "Ron's here, Truffles," she said to her cat. "We might be able to finally leave."
Looking around her room, Jessica realised that barely anything was in her trunk. There were books covering her desks from her hours of working at her homework, her school robes had been hung up and practically every item she'd want to take with her was scattered across her room. She snapped into action throwing things into her trunk at the speed of light and managed to coax Truffles into her cage in less than two minutes. Just as she locked the cat cage she heard a loud smash coming from upstairs and watched as small pieces of rubble fell past her window. She prayed the Durselys wouldn't wake up and sat on her bed, anxiously awaiting a sign as to what would happen next.
Barely a minute later, her door handle rattled and then the door swung open, revealing Fred Weasley, one of Ron's brothers, with a very smug look on his face.
"Fancy seeing you here," he whispered cheekily.
"Yeah, hello to you two." Jessica whispered back. "What's going on?"
"Tell you later. We're escaping through Harry's room. Need help with that?" he asked pointing the Jessica's trunk.
"Yeah thanks. By the way, look out for the bottom step, it –"
"Creaks. We know," interrupted George, appearing at his twin's shoulder.
The three of them struggled up the stairs with both Harry and Jessica's things, before Harry arrived and helped them the rest of the way. Jessica heard Uncle Vernon cough.
At last, panting, they reached the landing, than carried the trunks through Harry's room to the open window. Fred climbed into the flying car where Ron was waiting. He and Fred pulled while George, Harry and Jessica pushed from the bedroom side. Inch by inch, they slid Jessica and Harry's trunks out of the window.
Uncle Vernon coughed again.
"Just a bit more," panted Fred, who was pulling from inside the car, "one good push ..."
Harry, George and Jessica threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid out the window and into the backseat of the car.
"OK, that's both of them," George whispered. "Let's go."
George got in first, followed by Jessica, but as Harry climbed onto the window-sill there came a sudden loud screech from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon's voice.
"THAT RUDDY OWL!"
"I've forgotten Hedwig!"
Harry tore back across the room as the landing light clicked on. He snatched up Hedwig's cage, dashed to the window and passed it out to Jessica. He was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door – and it crashed open.
For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed in the doorway; then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at Harry, grabbing him by the ankle. Jessica, Ron, Fred and George seized Harry's arms and pulled as hard as they could.
"Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "They're getting away! THEY'RE GETTING AWAY!"
The Weasleys and Jessica gave a gigantic tug and Harry's leg slid out of Uncle Vernon's grasp. As soon as Harry was in the car, and had slammed the door shut Ron yelled, "Put your foot down, Fred!" and the car shot suddenly towards the moon.
Jessica couldn't believe it – they were free. Harry wound down the window, the night air whipping into the car and throwing her hair into Ron's face. They both looked back down at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry's window.
"See you next summer!"
Everyone in the car roared with laughter and Harry settled back in his seat, grinning from ear to ear.
"Let Hedwig out," he told Ron, "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings for ages."George handed a hairpin to Ron, who picked the padlock on Hedwig's cage. A moment later, Hedwig had soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.
"So – What's the story, you two?" said Ron impatiently. "What's been going on?"
Harry and Jessica told them all about Dobby, the warning he'd given Harry and Jessica and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long shocked silence when they 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. "We told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."
Fred and George looked at each other.
"What, do you think he might've been lying to us?" said Jessica.
"Well," said Fred, "put it this way – house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"
"Yes," said Harry Ron and Jessica together, instantly.
"Draco Malfoy," Harry explained. "He hates us."
"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" said Harry. "Why?"
"I've heard dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You Know Who."
"And when You Know Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at Harry and Jessica, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung – Dad reckons he was right in You Know Who's inner circle."
Jessica had already heard all these rumours about the Malfoy family before, and they didn't come with any surprise. Draco Malfoy made Dudley look like a kind, sensitive boy.
"I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf ..." said Harry.
"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred.
"Yeah, mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "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 ..."
Jessica and Harry fell silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family were rolling in wizard gold. Jessica could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family house-elf to stop Harry and Jessica going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do. Had they really been so stupid to take Dobby seriously?
"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," said Ron. "I was getting worried when you didn't answer my letters. And Jessica stopped right when she went to live with you. 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 a 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 and spending a lot of time shut up in his room ... I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a Prefect badge ... You're driving too far west, Fred," he added, pointing at a compass on the dashboard. Fred twiddled the steering wheel.
"So, does your Dad know you've got the car?" said Harry, sounding as if he already knew the answer.
"Er, no," said Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew."
"Fat chance of that working," Jessica snorted. "Have you ever actually managed to sneak something past your Mum? I don't think anything could get past her."
Fred sighed. "You're right. We're so dead when we get home."
After a depressed silence in the car, Harry finally continued on the conversation. "So what does your Dad do anyway?"
"He works at the Ministry," said Ron. "In the most boring department: The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts 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 beserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic, it's only him and an old warlock named Perkins in the office and they had to do memory charms and all sorts to cover it up ..."
"But your Dad ... this car..."
Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's mad about everything to do with Muggles, our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself straight under arrest. It drives Mum mad."
"That's the main road," said George, peering down through the windscreen. "We'll be there in ten minutes ... just as well, it's getting light ..."
A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east.
Fred bought the car lower and Jessica could see a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees.
"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St Catchpole ..."
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 had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard and Harry and Jessica looked out for the first time at Ron's house.
It looked as though it had once been a large, stone pigsty, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it was held up by magic (which 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". Round the front door lay a jumble of wellington boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.
"It's not much," said Ron.
"It's brilliant," said Harry and Jessica in unison, thinking 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. Then Ron, you come bounding down the stairs going "Mum, look who turned up in the night!" and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and Jessica and no one need ever know we flew the car."
"Right," said Ron. "Come on, I sleep at the –"
Ron had gone a nasty greenish colour, his eyes fixed on the house. The other four wheeled around.
Mrs Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a sabre-toothed tiger.
"Ah," said Fred
"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 Weasley in a deadly whisper.
"Sorry Mum, but see, we had to –"
All three of Mrs Weasley's sons were taller than she was, 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 with 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 been seen, you could have lost your father his job –"
It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before turning on Harry and Jessica, who backed away.
"I'm very pleased to see you, dears," she said, "come in and have some breakfast."
She turned away and walked back into the house. Harry and Jessica, after a nervous look at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.
The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle and Harry and Jessica sat next to each other, looking around.
The clock on the wall opposite them only had one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edges were things like "Time to make tea", "Time to feed the chickens" and "You're late". Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, with titles like Charm your own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking and One Minute Feasts – It's Magic! And an old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress Celestina Warbeck."
Mrs Weasley was clattering, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered thing like "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."
"I don't blame you, dears," she assured Harry and Jessica, tipping eight or nine sausages onto each of their plates. "Arthur and I have been worried about you too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," she was now adding fried eggs to their plates, "flying an illegal car halfway across the country – anyone could have seen you –"
She flicked her wand casually at the washing-up in the sink which began to clean itself, clinking gently in the background.
"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.
"You keep your mouth closed when you're eating!" Mrs Weasley snapped.
"They were starving them, Mum!" said George.
"And you!" said Mrs Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry and Jessica bread and started buttering it for them.
At that moment, there was a diversion in the form of a small, red-headed figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.
"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry and Jessica. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer, Harry."
"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," grinned Fred, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all five plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.
"Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and –"
"You will not," snapped Mrs Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night, you're going to completely de-gnome the garden for me, they're getting completely out of hand again."
"Oh, Mum –"
"And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and Fred. "You two can go up to bed though," she added to Harry and Jessica. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car."
But Harry, speaking only for himself, said quickly, "We'll help Ron, we aren't that tired anyway."
"That's very sweet of you, but it's dull work," said Mrs Weasley. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject."
And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned.
"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden."
Jessica looked at the cover of Mrs Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold lettering were the words: Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-looking wizard with wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He kept smiling and winking cheerily up at them. Mrs Weasley beamed down at him.
"Oh, he is marvellous," she said, "he knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book ..."
"Mum fancies him," said Fred in a very audible whisper.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."
Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry and Jessica following them. The garden was large, and in Jessica's opinion, exactly what a garden should be. She would bet that the Dursleys wouldn't like it one bit – there were a lot of weeds, and the grass needed cutting – but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants spilling from every flowerbed and a big green pond full of frogs.
"Muggles have garden gnomes too, you know," Harry said as they crossed the lawn.
"Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron, bent double with his head in a peony bush. "Like fat little Father Christmases with fishing rods..."
There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered and Ron straightened up. "This is a gnome," he said grimly.
"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.
It was nothing like a Father Christmas. It was small and leathery looking, with a large, knobbly, bald head exactly like a potato. Ron held it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its horny little feet; he grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.
"This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnome above his head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, Ron added, "It doesn't hurt them – you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnomeholes"
He let go of the gnome's ankles: it flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the filed on the other side of the fence.
"Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."
Jessica slowly started getting the hang of throwing the gnomes – you had to not feel sorry for them. She had just done one of her best throws yet, when she turned around and saw Harry, who still hadn't quite mastered it, desperately trying to shake off a gnome that had bitten his hand. Jessica moved over to help him when suddenly –
"Wow, Harry – that must've been fifty feet."
The air was soon thick with flying gnomes.
"See, they're not too bright," said George, seizing five or six gnomes at once. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learnt by now to stay put."
Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.
"They'll be back," said Ron, as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here ... Dad's too soft with them, he thinks they're funny..."
Just then, the front door slammed.
"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"they hurried through the garden and back into the house.
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 that were dusty and travel-worn,#.
"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on 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 someone 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 will 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 an old rusty car and telling his wife all he wanted to do 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 well within the law to do that, even if, er, he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth ... as long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't –"
"Arthur 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 and Jessica arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"
"Harry and Jessica?" Mr Weasley blinked. "Harry and Jessica who?"
He looked around, saw Harry and Jessica and jumped.
"Good Lord, it is the Potter twins? Very pleased to meet you both, Ron's told us so much about –"
"Your sons flew that car to their house and back last night!" shouted Mrs Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"
"Did you really? said Mr Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right? I – I mean," he faltered, as sparks flew from Mrs Weasley's eyes, "that – that was very wrong, boys – very wrong indeed ..."
"Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry and Jessica, as Mrs Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll sleep."
They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which zigzagged its way up through the house. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. Jessica just caught sight of a pair of brown eyes staring at them before it closed with a snap.
"Ginny," said Ron. You don't know how wired it is for her to be this shy, she never shuts up normally ... Jessica, I guess you'll be sleeping in there."
"Well then, I'd better go introduce myself," said Jessica.
"We'll be two flights up of you need us. Come on, Harry."
Jessica watched them continue up to Ron's room, then, taking a deep breath, she knocked on Ginny's door. It opened just a crack, and Jessica saw Ginny's brown eyes stare up at her.
"Hi, Ginny," she said in the sweetest voice she could muster. "I'm Jess, Ron says I'll be sharing your room while I'm here. Can I come in?"
Ginny spoke up in a little voice, "Is anyone with you?"
"Nope, just me."
Slowly, the door opened and Jessica stepped into Ginny's room.
It was small, but there was plenty of room for an extra bed or two. There was a huge window overlooking the garden which filled the little room with an overdose of light. A white bookshelf stood in the corner and was overflowing with books that Jessica was just itching to read. The walls were painted with swirls of various shades of blue, that seemed to move and blend when you moved. And though Jessica tried, she couldn't pinpoint exactly what shade were in it, though they all ranged somewhere between a vibrant cyan to a mellow dark blue, at points there seemed to be some turquoise and gold patches thrown in for a full onslaught of colour. Though on the wall behind Ginny's bed, Jessica could see none of these colours as here Ginny had covered the wall, floor to ceiling with posters of the band the Wierd Sisters and the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team.
"Holyhead Harpies, aye?" said Jessica.
"Yeah, Ron thinks they're dumb, but I support then anyway."
"What does Ron know? We supports the Chudley Cannons! Holyheads are the best, thta's why they have fans like us."
"You're a Holyhead fan too?"
"Do I have Holyhead Harpy pyjamas?" said Jessica sarcasticly. Ginny gave her a confused look. "I do, by the way. Of course I'm a Holyhead fan."
"That's so cool. What about Harry?" Ginny asked uncertainly.
"Well, Harry's new to the Quidditch world so Ron's probably turning him into a Canon supporter as we speak."
A very disappointed "oh," escaped Ginny's mouth.
"What is it with Harry anyway? Everyone acts all star-stuck around him, then I come along and it's like I'm not as important. I ask you this honestly because, no offence, that's how you were acting earlier today." Asked Jessica, keen to wipe away Ginny's sad look.
"Oh, um, Harry, he, er," Ginny stumbled over her words, before finally getting a grip. "Well, no one knew you were alive until the end of last year, and we've all been told the story of the 'Boy Who Lived' when we grew up. I mean, he destroyed You Know Who at the age of one, he's even got that little lightning bolt scar to prove it."
"You know I have a scar too, right?" said Jessica, she didn't want to be left out of the picture.
"No. Can you show me? Please?"
"Er, ok. But I've never actually shown anyone besides Harry."
Jessica flicked her hair over her left shoulder to reveal the right half of her neck – and her scar. Ginny gasped.
"Yeah, that's really all there is to it," said Jessica as she pulled her hair back over the scar. "It's nothing special, especially because you've already seen Harry's right on his forehead ..."
But Ginny, grinning widely, said, "It's wonderful, certainly best scar I've ever seen, including Harry's."
Jessica laughed, "Thanks."
So that was chapter three. See if you can spot my two Starkid references – one's a quote and the other would be a quote of I'd have slightly changed the wording of it (If I'd left it as it was it wouldn't have made ANY sense). If you find any others it's a happy coincidence. Anyway tomorrow I'm going to the beach so I'll try to write while I'm there but there DEFINATELY won't be any internet so I can't post anything, sorry.