Chapter 19

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Mum finally came to a halt in front of us, 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?" she said in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —" All four of us Weasley's were taller than she was, but we cowered as her rage broke free.

"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!" mum yelled, 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, and she had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. "I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."


She turned and walked back into the house and after sharing a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, Harry followed us in. The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, where Harry sat down on the edge of the seat, looking around.  I watched him, a small smile on my face, realising this was his first time in a wizarding household. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts — All magical of course! And the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck." I rolled my eyes and hoped mum would let us go soon.

Mum was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at us, as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."

"I don't blame you, dear," she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. "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 three fried eggs to his plate, "flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —" She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.

"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.

"There were bars on his win-" I chimed in.                                                                                                                  

"And you two!" she said, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded 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. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," I said with a grin, but I caught mum's eye and bent my face over my plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all five plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.

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