meant to be

♦ 007 ♦

The Goblet of Fire

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Lynn awoke the next morning. She awoke before the other girls and changed into a pair of black skinny jeans with a oversized cream jumper tucked into her jeans with white trainers and her long, dark hair tied up into a high, messy ponytail. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as she met Harry, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor landing on their way down to breakfast. At that moment, Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.

"Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

Lynn flattened herself against the wall as Mr. Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When Thea and the boys entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers. . . . "I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to. . . .

Lynn shut her eyes hard and opened them again to make sure that they were working properly.

Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.

". . . .Muggle neighbour's heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems, please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there. . . ."

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.

". . . .it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur. . . ."

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes. Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. 

"Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up. . . ."

Mr. Weasley groaned.

"And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it, think of his record, we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department , what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.

Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.