Chapter Two: The Burrow
Just when the whirling stopped we had landed aggressively on the Weasley's garden. George had unfortunately landed on top of some beautiful flowers; Fred and Ron were stepping on some weeds, Harry was gripping the fence tightly and I was behind some bushes. It was a multi-story home that looked as if it was about to fall. George got to his feet and shook the dirt out of his clothes. Someone opened the door from the kitchen and a plump, red-haired woman appeared below the doorframe.
"That is the" – she paused for a moment, thinking, then continued – "ninth time you've landed on my daffodils, young man! If you are not careful next time, I should have to — " she stopped when I stood up. "Oh, hello! You must be Susanna!" She went down the garden steps. "Welcome, dear, welcome! Feel yourself at home!" I had barely walked a step when she said these words.
So we began to walk through the garden and toward the house; meanwhile, I was looking at my left and right, where beautiful landscapes were visible in the horizon; the land was not green, but it still had some sort of beauty in it; the sun shone through a dense thicket of fir trees. Mrs. Weasley didn't scold George again; she seemed to have forgotten that her daffodils were all squashed. Having reached the interior of the house, I could see that it was a rather nice one; it had things that a normal house would have, just with a few exceptions, like a clock that pointed out where were each of the family members (either at home, work or mortal peril, to name just a few), a pair of needles that wove needlessly of help, pots that cleaned themselves in the kitchen sink and a few other things working on magic.
"Ginny! Get down here! We've got visitors!" shouted Mrs. Weasley lightheartedly, standing at the feet of the stairs. "In a minute, Mum," Ginny cried, from an upper floor.
Mrs. Weasley looked me over intently with a concerned look on her face. "Oh dear, you look thinner than Harry did when he first came here. Why don't you eat something?"
Ron quickly interrupted his mother. "But, Mum, she has to get her stuff at Diagon Alley! She has still her wand, pet and robes left to buy! She hasn't the time to eat!"
"Of course she has the time, Ronald. We will all eat before they leave this house. Go on, everyone, sit at the table and wait until dinner's ready."
"They? Who?"
"George and Susanna, of course," now Mrs. Weasley approached the stove and used a curved wand on top of a counter at her right to light it; Ginny appeared.
"But, why him? Can't I go too?" he asked, childishly. "Can't we all go?" he added, maybe because 'Can't I go too' sounded a bit selfish.
"As you know, your father, Bill, Charlie and Percy are at work," she said, while she summoned a saucepan and it came flying to her immediately. "I will stay here to take care of you; George is the eldest of you five — counting Harry, of course — which is why he is going with Susanna. We can't go with them because the streets at Diagon Alley are presently flooded with wizards; that would make it harder to stay together and still get to every shop needed. And we will lose a lot of time, especially if Ginny goes," she glanced at her. "You know how much she likes to stay hours and hours in front of the windows. Now, go sit at the table."
"But, Mum, it's seven thirty — "
"And two hours are more than enough to get three things, aren't they, dear?" she asked me. I nodded agreeably. She was now stirring a pot with her wand. "See Ron? Now sit there and wait until I serve dinner."
"But, mum, George is. . . Do you trust him?" Ron asked, tentatively.
This made Mrs. Weasley think for a minute and stop moving her wand. "Of course I do, I trust all of you."
We went out to join the others at the table. Fred and George were trying to make Ginny pull their fingers; Harry was observing the sky; Ron had left the kitchen at the same time as I did. He sat at Harry's right and I ended up right next to George.
"Hiya, Harry! Anything interesting happened at your place this summer?" Ron asked.
"If you count my scar hurting, Aunt Marge coming over for dinner every Friday and eating Asparagus soup for breakfast as interesting, then yes, I had a thriving summer. . ."
Fred and George snorted — Fred murmured, "Hilarious!" — while the rest remained silent, and the sound of an animal I had never heard before — obviously a magical creature — was the only thing heard at that moment. It would have been the equivalent of the coqui in my country. The twins stopped laughing, realizing that what Harry had said wasn't so hilarious at all and said, at a very low voice, "Sorry, Harry, but your sarcasm is excellent". Pain in the forehead, starting the day with a not-so-tasty-food-for-the-majority-of-normal-people and having an insensitive aunt and her beer-drinking dog over at one's house wasn't good, as far as I knew.
Then, another sound broke the silence: Mr. Weasley had arrived, carrying a case on his left hand and a hat in the other.
"Good evening, boys!" He said, spotting Fred, George and Harry. Instantly, Ginny turned over and hem-hemmed and then he said, " er — family", Ginny said, "Dad!!" and pointed at me; I smiled, waved at him and said, "Good evening, Mr. Weasley!" then, finally blushing, he said "— people. . ."
"Dad doesn't think properly after work," said George. "It's a fact."
"He once thought I was George! Ha, ha! Imagine that! What dolt would do that!" said Fred, without knowing that her mother was standing right beside him with a chicken on her mitten-covered hands and was looking very serious. Fred noticed our faces and knew that something was not right; he turned his head. "Oh, hullo mum! Say. . . That chicken smells exceptionally good! Doesn't it, Ginny?"
"I'm not covering for you," she said coldly.
"She means it smells good, don't you, Gin — " Mrs. Weasley almost threw the chicken to the table, used her wand at Fred's mouth and muttered Glus! His lips were stuck together, something that made his mouth look funny.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DISTURBING IS BEING CALLED DOLT?! IS THAT HOW YOU SHOW RESPECT TOWARD YOUR SUPERIORS?! TOWARD YOUR FATHER!! WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO CALL YOU STUPID?!" Fred nodded, closing his eyes. "NO, RIGHT? THEN DON'T CALL YOUR FATHER A DOLT! DO YOU PROMISE ME THAT YOU WILL NOT CALL ANYONE SOMETHING THAT CAN MAKE THEM FEEL NEGATIVE ABOUT THEMSELVES?" Fred nodded quickly, many times up and down; he looked like a bobble-head toy. "ARE YOU REALLY?" He nodded once more. "Well, to make sure you will keep your promise, that pair of lips is going to stay together until dinner's over. No chicken."
"Nn Hgknn??" complained Fred.
"Oh, yes, sorry, I meant to say no food until tomorrow."
"MmnnN!?" Fred hummed. Mrs. Weasley looked at George as though he were partly responsible for what had happened, then she went back to the kitchen, fuming. Fred looked at us.
Ginny said, "Don't look at me, I'm not reversing that spell! Besides, if Mum sees you've got your lips apart from each other, she'll glue them again." Fred moaned. "Don't you see? There's nothing we can do about it. . .Except perhaps forcing the food through your ears, though maybe you wouldn't like that."
Everyone nodded approvingly. Shortly after, Mr. and Mrs. Wealey arrived at the table, said a prayer and we all began to eat, except Fred, of course, who had his lips glued, his arms crossed, and was looking intently at the food on the table.
"So, Cezanne, where do you come from? France, I presume?" asked Mr. Weasley, cutting the piece of chicken on his plate. Mrs. Weasley corrected him, "It's Susanna, Arthur." Then he said, "Yes, Susanna, that's what I meant."
"From Puerto Rico, though many people suppose our forefathers came from France, taking into account my second last name, but my father is Italian, from which I got Cecillia," noticing Mr. Weasley's perplexed face, I added, "Oh, Puerto Rico it's a small island in the Caribbean in the American continent."
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Been studying magic over there?"
"No. Actually, I'm a muggle," I said.
"Oh — yes, that's right; then you must have all sorts of interesting things in your home like batteries, spark plugs, light bulbs, bicycles, and screwdrivers!"
"Yes, we have," I smiled, cutting the turkey into little pieces.
"It must be amazing. . . Maybe I'll go sometime. . ." said Ron's father, with a dreamy look.
While Mr. Weasley was telling me about his work and what he knew about muggle artifacts, I heard George asking Harry some – er – interesting questions. Even though Fred couldn't get into conversation, he was paying much attention.
"What do you think about her?"; "Do you like her?"; "I think she likes you"; "Did you notice she never looked at you?" but none of the questions did Harry answer.
"Ah, you don't want to tell us?" ; "We're the closest of friends!"; "Don't be shy!"; "That's part of life. . ."
I was paying so much attention to their conversation that I had no idea what Mr. Weasley was talking about when he asked me, "Are you going to finish it?"
"Finish. . .What? School?"
"No, your food," he smiled.
"Oh, yes, yes," then, when I saw everyone had finished already I added, "I'm very slow at eating." And it was true; I could count the average times per week I had finished my plate in less than 20 minutes with one hand.
When I finished my food, Mrs. Weasley said, "Give it here, dear," I handed over the dish, glass and cutlery. "Now, go to Ginny's room; she's looking for a spare witch robes for you to wear to Diagon Alley. When you finish putting them on, give me those clothes, I'm going to wash them."
"All right," I said, and hurried off to Ginny's room. It had two small beds and a dresser. Ginny was kneeling at the foot of the dresser, holding robes that I supposed were the ones I was going to wear now. She had not noticed I was below the door frame. "May I enter?"
Ginny started, and turned her head "Of course!". I entered the room and she gave me the witch robes. "You can change in the bathroom, it's over there," she said, pointing to the next room.
"Thank you," and I went to the bathroom to change. When I finished, I went down the stairs — George was already there, waiting — and handed my uniform to Mrs. Weasley, who was now transfigurating the food in Fred's plate into small plants and flowers.
"Thank you, dear," she said. "Herbivicus."
I stared at the plants for a moment; considering the fact that throwing away food is a thing I hated to do and that plants are excellent for the welfare of our environment, I said, "That's a very clever idea, Mrs. Weasley."
"Well, thank you!" she said. "I'm turning them into daffodils, to replace the ones George ruined," and she threw a very nasty look at him. "Now go with George to Diagon Alley, but try to get back soon, all right?"
"Oh, Mrs. Weasley I would like to help you put those flowers in place but — "
"Yes, I'm sure — but go, go! It's nine o' clock already!"
"Already!? Then see you later Mrs. Weasley!" and I went out toward George; I wondered how were we going to get there.
"Portkey again, Sue," he said, as if he had read my mind; this time it was a pin in the shape of a motorbike. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded. "One. . .Two. . . Three!" At three, we both touched the pin, and after ten seconds of swirling madness, we arrived at a street I knew belonged to Diagon Alley.