Stay - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter 120

Before we start this chapter, I wanted to inform you all that I am going to begin to write the prequels, do not in anyway feel like you need to read the other books in order to understand this book, but the other books will fill in a lot of gaps in this book and of course will take you on the journey through Kirra's previous lives (Ophelia and Emily).

However I am not sure which book I want to start writing first. Would you guys rather me start the Ophelia x Tom Riddle book or the Emily x Regulus Black book first?

As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane. "Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

Kirra couldn't help but smile softly at the woman who had been worried so much about her family's safety. She was sure that if it had been the Dursleys, they couldn't of cared less if her and Harry had died, if anything, they probably would have jumped for joy.

"Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —" She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down,Kirra saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive. . . . Oh boys . . ." And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George who still had the Hufflepuff in their arms, and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. . . ."

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Kirra had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. 

Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark wizards running unchecked . . . national disgrace . . . Who wrote this? Ah . . . of course . . . Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."

Kirra and the twins struggled to hold back their snorts of laughter as the three of them squeezed onto an arm chair, the Hufflepuff laying across the both of the red haired twins as they struggled to keep their eyes open from exhaustion.

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article. 

"Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"