Percy Jackson and the Department of Mysteries [Book 5]

11) Good Soup

Conversation returned not long after, but I could feel the heaviness left in the air, people still wondering what had happened on the quest.

I was constantly surrounded in some form of supernatural or magic or whatever, and yet the quest still didn't seem real. The weird passage of time, the monsters and the gods, the way the Labyrinth was alive, and Liam.... I shuddered. I couldn't go a minute without thinking of him. Of his not-Liam eyes, his not-Liam voice, his Liam face and the way time froze around me.

I busied myself with the smell of the food, and glanced up at Ron. He seemed just as apprehensive as me — suddenly small and scared, but he kept up a brave face.

I was distracted by my analyzation of Ron's mental health by Mrs. Weasley yelling, "Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

I looked back just in time to see a bewitched cauldron of stew, and iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden board and knife to launch through the air towards the table. It skidded to a stop just before the end of the table, leaving a long, dark burn on the wood. The butterbeer fell off the table and splashed across the floor, and the knife embedded itself dangerously close to Sirius' hand.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE JUST HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred said, rushing forward to yank the knife out of the table. "Sorry Sirius, mate — didn't mean to —"

Sirius and Harry burst out laughing. It didn't take long for the others to follow in their actions (excluding Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Mundungus Fletcher, who had fallen out of his chair and surprise and was now cursing beneath his breath).

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said, trying not to laugh, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age —"

" — none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley slammed a fresh flagon on the table, nearly as much butterbeer spilling out of it. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Perry —"

Mrs. Weasley froze, all of the color draining from her face. She caught her breath and looked a little scared, and Mr. Weasley's face had turned stony.

"Let's eat," I said quickly, grabbing the cauldron and moving it back to the middle of the table.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," Lupin said, ladling some stew into a bowl for her and passing it across the table.

For a few minutes, it was silent, more silent than when we'd talked about the quest, even though now the air was filled with the sound of clinking cutlery and the scraping of chairs.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, "I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," Sirius said, not particularly caring.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too," Mrs. Weasley continued. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," Sirius said, the sarcasm in his voice barely noticeable.

Ginny burst out laughing, and I looked up to see Tonks entertaining her and Hermione by changing the shape of her nose. I smiled slightly as it grew to the impressive size of Snape's.