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The next morning, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Eleanora, all used magic to take down their camp as quickly as possible. Bill and Eleanora worked together to pack the girl's tent up and Bill slung the bag over his shoulder.
"Are you taking the portkey with us?" she asked when they'd finished. Nobody was talking much, mostly from lack of sleep.
"Yeah, Dad said he could get an early one." They started walking towards the moor side by side, and didn't speak again until they got back to the house.
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. "Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —" She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck. Eleanora smiled a little at the sweet scene before her. Mrs. Weasley released her husband and turned to the rest of them. "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 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. . . ."
Eleanora hung back and stood at Bill's shoulder to see the paper. He unfolded it and they scanned it together. Bill groaned. "Merlin, this is bad."
"Percy's going to throw a fit," said Eleanora, staring bleakly at the article. Bill let out a sigh and leaned his shoulder into Eleanora's for a second.
"Well..." he turned to the door. "S'pose we should take this in for my dad to see."
"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. Eleanora caught Bill's eye from her position, curled up on an armchair by the fire, and they both raised their eyebrows pointedly. Bill leaned back on the couch and propped his dragon-hide boots up on the table.
