Magic? || Years 1-5

Degnoming The Garden: Year 2/Summer

Every bone in Amisty's body was aching for her to run.

To run far, far away from the seething mother in front of her. But, sadly, her feet seemed to stuck to the ground.

Mrs. Weasley's piercing brown eyes glowered at them, burning into their faces and sending shivers down their spines.

Amisty couldn't help but shift her gaze down to the ground.

"So," She placed her hands on her hips, voice eerily calm.

"Morning, Mum!" George offered, a forced grin on his face as he struggled to remain calm under her withering glare.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" She asked, still in that same, shockingly quiet voice.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to --" Fred started, shaking.

He couldn't continue as her calm aura cracked.

"Beds empty! No note!" She shouted, "Car gone -- could have crashed -- out of my mind with worry -- did you car? -- 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," Fred grumbled, earning a warning nudge from Amisty who swiftly leaped backward when Mrs. Weasley replied.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" She yelled, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job --"

Amisty thought the shouting would never cease.

She had backed away to Harry's side, the two of them exchanging shocked, green gazes.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, Amisty. Come in and have some breakfast," She turned to them, suddenly calm, and then walked away toward the house.

The two looked at each other warily, then to Ron, who nodded, before following after her with hesitant steps.

The kitchen was just as cozy as what the exterior of the house portrayed.

Amisty looked around in wonder, her ears catching the ticking of a clock and the voice of a singing witch.

Mrs. Weasley was cooking away at the stove, the pans clinking and clattering as she glared at her sons every-so-often.

There were little snippets of her mutterings Amisty could catch, like "don't know what you were thinking of," or "never would have believed it." Though she was too distracted by the lovely smell wafting from the pan to be bothered by it.

"I don't blame you," She told them as she dropped a heaping serving of sausages onto their plates, "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 flying an illegal car halfway across the country -- anyone could have seen you --"

With a quick flick of her wand the dishes in the sink started to wash themselves, to Amisty's awe.

"It was cloudy, Mum!" Fred protested.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley shot back, glaring daggers at him.

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

"And you!" She snapped, handing a buttered roll to both Harry and Amisty.

She took it gratefully, scarfing down the food in seconds only for her plate to be filled up once again.