Chapter 5 - Summers End

From the outside the castle looked like mere ruins, a piece of history long since forgotten by everyone and everything except nature as it attempted to scale the grey stonewalls. Any witches, wizards or muggles, for whatever strange reason they may have for being in such a isolated location, who strode near the castle would see nothing more than the faint traces of a lost magnificence now buried in the earth.

However, this masquerade was nothing more than a cleverly devised charm. The castle was as solid and as real as Hogwarts itself.

Voldemort had chosen the secluded castle as his sanctuary. A place where he could plan his rise back to power and, more importantly, from where he would systematically rid himself of those that dared to cross him even as his life had waned.

Two death eaters stood as guards outside the chamber of their master, the dark robed figures were stout and strong and had little fear of anything save their master. They lived, if you could call their subservient existence living, to do his bidding. If they failed in that charge they would cease to be anything. Just like Karakopf had found out a week ago.

But those who had remained faithful would not fail.

The death eaters did not speak, did not flinch and did not give any signs at all that the sounds they heard coming from within the chamber were unsettling to them. In fact, they were not unsettled at all. They stood mute and observant, not only to their immediate surroundings, but also to the grounds of the castle. The death eaters would investigate any disruption in the aura of evil that permeated the grounds, and heaven help anyone they found.

However, at the moment all was as it should be. Even the blood-curdling scream that reverberated against the stones, making a hollow and unmistakable sound, the sound of coming death, was as it should be. It echoed throughout the castle like a lost music of the damned and mournful. The agony within the scream was so terrible that a normal feeling person would be brought to tears for the poor soul who uttered such desperate cries.

However, one will find no mercy in the merciless and so the death eaters maintained their silent vigil.

Inside the chamber a large man, who had been abducted from his home whilst making dinner barely hours before, sat in a hard straight-backed wooden chair magically secured by invisible bonds and rendered completely immobile from the neck down.

“Please… please… please… no more… I’ve told you all I can,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice overloaded with desperation and pain. He was drenched in a cold sweat and his eyes were moist with tears. His breathing came fast and ragged from under cracked ribs. Blood shot eyes, and a hanging head gave him the appearance of a man surrendering to his fate. He had endured much over the last hour and now he was at the end.

It was likely that not even his closest friends and family would be able to recognize this haggard man. His appearance was so dissimilar to how he normally presented himself, in strictly formal in tailored robes and shiny shoes. Zechariah Zager, was a key member of the Ministry of Magic’s Education Department and he normally took his appearance quite seriously. However, his crooked tie, torn pinstripe cloak and wrinkled, sweat drenched robes were now the least important thing on his mind. Getting away with his life was his only care, and considering who he was dealing with, he had lost hope that it would happen. The most he could expect was a quick and painless death, but he also now knew that was only wishful thinking.

“All you can? All you can?” The high-pitched mocking laughter that emanated from Voldemort filled the room making the helpless man cringe and brace himself for more unthinkable pain. “I think not. But you will.”

Several yards away, Voldemort stood with the confidence of one whose purpose is clear and certain. A narrow smile, filled with evil intent, appeared on his pale face beneath his red slit eyes as he paced the stone floor and began talking softly, almost mutely, to no one but himself.

Suddenly Voldemort turned once again on the hapless captive. It was evident from the swirling wind and crackling energy that the power surrounding the wizard was beginning to surge. He held his wand out in front of him almost leisurely and that humourless smile crept across that pale face once more. “Crucio!”

Zager wondered briefly who was screaming. It was giving him a headache. Then he realised that the pain and agony had returned as it felt like every cell in his body was set on fire at once.

He was the one who was screaming.

Within moments the chamber faded from his blurred vision, and with it, the shrieks.





Harry sat and stared at the large fireplace that dominated the kitchen in the Burrow. In little over an hour, he would be travelling by Floo powder from that fireplace to Diagon alley. It was something that he was at one excited about, yet dreading at the same time. Floo powder was his least favourite form of travel ever. Well… except for sitting in the back seat of Uncle Vernon’s car because he was usually sitting next to Dudley.

He just hoped that this time around he didn’t get lost down Knockturn alley… again! Or worse… get lost totally.

He couldn’t believe how fast time seemed to slip away at the Burrow. Since arriving a week ago, the weather had been nothing but sunshine and blue skies. The days were spent walking the fields with Ron and Hermione, or playing Quidditch in a small pasture surrounded by tall trees.

“What’s up?” asked Ron as he strolled into the kitchen and sat down at the table next to Harry.

“Nothing,” replied Harry distractedly as he dragged his eyes away from the crackling fire and to the spread of breakfast things that Mrs Weasley had put out on the table a few minutes ago before she disappeared to wake Hermione and Ginny up.

Ron looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye for a moment. Harry wondered if Ron would push the issue but he simply took Harry at his word and got stuck into scrambled egg and bacon on toast.

“Hey Harry!” said Fred as he joined them in the kitchen, plonking down in the chair opposite and digging into a bowl of milk cereal that actually contained the milk inside puffs of wheat so that when you bit into them, they squirted milk over the inside of your mouth.

Harry smiled at Fred. “How’s the joke business going?” he asked.

Fred all but choked on a mouthful of cereal, spitting puffs of wheat out that hit the table and burst open spilling their milk over the worn wooden surface.

“Keep it down will you!” murmured George from the doorway as he stepped into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of his eyes with the back of the sleeve of his pyjamas. “Mum doesn’t know about the money you gave us.”

“Or that we are using it to make more joke stuff,” agreed Fred as he grabbed a cloth and threw it down on the table where it started cleaning the mess up on its own.

“Sorry,” muttered Harry as he watched the cloth move around picking up milk and sweeping wheat puffs into a neat pile.

”Its going great though,” admitted George as he grabbed a piece of toast and started smearing butter and jam over it. “Already got a few letters of interest back from Zonko’s.”

“That’s great!” said Harry with enthusiasm. “Anything I can see or do to help?”

Fred looked at George. “You’ve already done more than enough to help them,” said Ron a little huffily.

“We could always use a test subject,” answered Fred slyly.

“Yeah,” agreed George with a grin. “Ginny no longer takes anything from us so we can’t use her.”

“Yeah, that and mum told them off for picking on her,” added Ron from around a mouthful of toast.

Ron pretended to ignore the identical scowls that Fred and George sent his way, instead buttering up another slice of toast.

Fred looked like he was about to press the issue when he fell silent and motioned for the rest of them to do the same. The sound of footsteps echoed somewhere above them and were closing.

Harry suddenly felt cold inside. His recurring dreams with Voldemort flashing before his eyes and making him tense his muscles in a burst of anxiety. He no longer truly feared Voldemort as he had faced him twice and survived. Now it was more of a fear/anxiety hybrid emotion, but then Harry relaxed when he heard what had stopped Fred.

“I’m just… not sure about it dear,” came Mrs Weasley’s voice drifting down the stairs punctuated by the sound of three, now distinct, pairs of feet.

“I think it’s great!” came Ginny’s voice.

“But its so… short,” replied Mrs Weasley as she entered the kitchen with Ginny.

“What’s so short?” asked George with mild curiosity as he threw the now milk soaked cloth into the sink and swept the small pile of wheat puffs toward the bin with a flick of his wand.

Mrs Weasley’s answer was nothing more than a nod at Hermione as she walked in through the door to the kitchen. The jaws of all the boys dropped open to gape in surprise at what they saw.
Hermione walked into the kitchen and up to the table attempting to ignore the stares of everyone in the room.

Ginny rolled her eyes as all four boys watched Hermione approach. She was in a skirt. Nothing unusual there, as part of the girls uniform for Hogwarts’ was a skirt. Add to that the fact that they had all seen her in other skirts outside of uniform before.

It was just that this one was so short with the hem floating around mid thigh and a tight t-shirt of matching colour, both deep Sherwood green.

“See,” said Ginny mischievously, “the boys like it.”

“That’s enough of that young lady,” snapped Mrs Weasley with a frown to Ginny.

Hermione let a small, insecure smile play across her face as she smoothed down the back of her skirt to sit down. “It was a present from my mum,” she said.

Mrs Weasley’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. “Really?” she asked unable to keep her voice upping an octave that only reinforced her apparent astonishment.

“She got me an entire new wardrobe. She thought that I was being dour or something,” she said rolling her eyes. “I see you haven’t wasted any time in using magic,” said Hermione trying to change the subject.

“How come you’re allowed to do that?” asked Harry inquisitively. He really wanted to know as he had been sent a letter during his second year at Hogwarts warning him of using magic outside of school, even though it had been the house elf Dobby doing all the magic.

“Well were allowed now aren’t we?” replied Fred as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“They passed their OWL’s,” added Hermione.

“Yeah,” said Ron darkly. “They’ve been doing magic all summer with no regard for those of us who still aren’t allowed.”

“Now, now Ron,” said Mrs Weasley as she began to clear away some of the unused breakfast things. “They’ve earned their right to use magic.”

“Yeah,” added George with enthusiasm. “Fred and I are applying to learn to Apparate next.”

Harry smiled. Apparating was one thing that he really wanted to learn how to do. Being able to disappear from one place and appear at will in another might be a really useful trick. Imagine all the tricks he could play on Dudley.

“Oh, speaking of school,” cut in Mrs Weasley

“We weren’t,” said Fred.

“Your letters arrived today,” finished Mrs Weasley ignoring Fred’s sarcasm.

Harry looked up to Mrs Weasley in anticipation as she retrieved a small pile of slightly yellowed parchment envelopes from a shelf above the kitchen worktop. Harry could see that the familiar acid green writing was emblazoned across the front

Mr Harry Potter
The foot of Ron Weasley’s bed
The Burrow
Little Whinging
Surrey

Excited at the prospect of seeing Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore again, Harry tore open the envelope and pulled out the two pages of parchment inside. The first was the usual letter that informed him of the time he was supposed to be on platform 9 and ¾ for the train. The second was a list of books and supplies that he would need for the fifth year.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Fifth Year Students will require

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) by Miranda Goshawk and Sean Smith
Higher Level Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
Higher Level Transfiguration (OWL level) by Emeric Switch and Pan Lancaster
And one pair of protective goggles (preferably crystal layered)

“Goggles?” asked Fred as he read Hermione’s letter over her shoulder. “We never needed goggles.”

“We still don’t,” added George as he ran down the list of all the things he and Fred would need as they started their NEWT’s.

“I wonder what they could be for?” said Mrs Weasley. “And Crystal layered? They’re expensive.”

George and Fred glanced at each other. Fred nodded at George and George looked to Mrs Weasley. “Don’t worry about Ron’s,” he said. “We’ll get them for him.”

Mrs Weasley frowned. “What are you two up to?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing!” they both replied indignantly. “We just have some money put aside and thought we’d help out,” finished Fred.

Mrs Weasley’s face softened. “That’s very generous of you boys, but your Dad and I still have some money tucked away, and its only Ron who needs them.”

“I wonder why,” added Fred again.

“Perhaps dad’ll know,” said Ron as he tossed his letter down onto the table.

Harry carefully folded his letter and put it back in the envelope. “I’m off upstairs,” he said to Ron and Hermione. “Coming?”

Ron nodded and got up from the table to follow Harry, both of them pausing while Hermione got up to follow, only to have to wait again while she tugged down the hem of her skirt.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, both trying to resist the temptation to grin but instead, only making each other snigger.

Once upstairs, Ron took up a seat on a pile of books against the wall while Harry and Hermione sat on the end of his bed. “Tell me about what’s been happening with Voldemort,” Harry asked.

Ron cringed ever so slightly at the mention of the name, but each time Harry said it, Ron cringed a little less. It was the first time Harry had asked since arriving. He had been having such a good time that he didn’t want to ruin it with such dark talk. But something deep down had made him ask now.

“Not much,” Ron said. “Dad has been spending more and more time at the ministry lately with Percy. They are both being given extra work by Fudge to keep them busy.” Harry knew this to be true, as, since his arrival, he had hardly seen either Mr Weasley or Percy. “Percy says that the work they are doing is important, but I heard mum and dad talking about it. Dad thinks that the work is supposed to stop them from telling other people about Voldemort being back.”

Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “For Fudge to ignore the fact that Voldemort is back is all but criminal negligence.”

“Dad says that Fudge has to be seen to be in control,” replied Ron.

“Even though he isn’t,” added Harry with a shake of his head. “What else has been happening?”

Ron shook his head. “Not much that I know of. Dad was talking the day before you arrived, about Hagrid and Madame Maxine coming back from somewhere. But I didn’t hear much of the conversation. Both mum, dad and Percy head out somewhere once a night every week though.”

That sparked Harry and Hermione’s interest. Yesterday had been Tuesday and they hadn’t gone out. “They didn’t go last night,” she said aloud. “You’ve no idea where?”

Ron shook his head. “Its only for about two hours every Tuesday. They never say where they are going, or when they will be back. They just tell Fred and George not to burn down the house while they’re gone.”

“I reckon it’s a meeting,” said Harry. “They could be going to see Dumbledore.”
Hermione nodded slowly. “Possibly. But we have no proof of that.” She paused for a moment then asked, “Could we follow them to find out?” Harry asked Ron.

“Not unless you learnt how to Apparate over the summer,” Ron said gloomily.

Harry frowned. He had been looking forward to hearing about what Mr and Mrs Weasley had been doing in the fight against Voldemort all summer, and now that he had talked to Ron about it, he was disappointed to say the least. “There has got to be something more to it,” he said.

Ron nodded in agreement. “But we’ve no way to find out.”

For a full minute they sat in silence as each tried to think of some way to find out more of what was happening in the fight against Voldemort. But in the end, Ron changed the subjects. “So what is really up with the new wardrobe Hermione?” he asked trying and failing to suppress a grin.

Hermione seemed to blush slightly as she rolled her eyes. “Well when I got home for the holidays, my mum wanted to hear all about the dance. It seems like she thinks that I act and dress too old for my age. So she decided to make me into a teenager.”

“Huh?” asked Ron confused.

Hermione shook her head. “She thought that she was missing out on my teenage years so she took me out shopping in a gesture to make it all up to me.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he said.

Hermione suddenly seemed distant and sad. “Its just the way she is,” she said softly. “She thinks that grand gestures make up for…” her voice trailed off. “it’s not important,” she said. “

Harry had the feeling that, whatever it was, was important. But before he could press the issue, a knock on the door preceded Ginny’s entry to the room. “Mum said we’re going to leave in ten minutes.”

Thanks,” said Harry as he glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione saw Harry glancing at her and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Her issues with her always busy parents who, though she knew they loved her never seemed to be around any more, was not anyone’s problem but her own.

Indeed they all had bigger things to worry about, like where was Voldemort and what where his plans regarding Harry. So she quickly rose from the bed and pulled down the annoyingly short hem of her skirt. “We’d better get ready to go then,” she said walking from the room.

“Right,” said Harry as he watched her go. There was something to her sudden behaviour, he was sure of it. But then again, he knew only too well the trouble that relatives could provide. She’ll probably be much better once we’re at school, he thought as he too left the room despite Ron’s protest that they still had ten minutes.

Just as the three reached the ground floor landing and turned to enter the kitchen, Hermes came swooping in through an open window at the back and dived past them to land gracefully on Errol’s currently empty perch after having dropped an envelope on the now cleared and cleaned table.

“Wonder why Hermes is back already,” pondered Ron as they followed the owl into the kitchen.

“Probably delivering a message from Percy?” Hermione said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. Hermes was, after all, Percy’s owl, given to him by his parents when he was made a Gryffindor prefect some years back.

Hermione did not notice the exasperated look Ron spitted her with. “Well I know that,” he said with a hint of frustration, “I was just wondering why he’s back.”

Hermes hooted as his alert eyes saw that the small seed pot attached to the perch was empty and there was nothing to eat on the table either.

“Oh now Hermes,” chided Mrs. Weasley. “If you’d have been here 10 minutes sooner you’d have had some nice bits of toast to eat. Now go on with you. Out of my kitchen.” Hermes hooted indignantly and took flight back the way he had come. Mrs. Weasley took the envelope and unceremoniously ripped it open. “Ah dear,” she sighed.

“Ah dear what?” asked George as he and Fred walked in, school bags slung over their shoulders. From the looks of the bags they were light and empty.

Mrs. Weasley looked up from the parchment and saw the twins with their satchels. “What are those for?” she asked, suspicion dripping from every word.

“What?” questioned Fred innocently.

“Your satchels, that’s what,” said Mrs. Weasley in an even tone.

“Oh… these.” George tried not to grin as he patted the bottom of his bag. “Well, we just thought it would be more convenient if we had something to put our supplies in.”

“Supplies?” questioned Mrs. Weasley.

“Yeah. You know our books, school supplies and other things,” piped in Fred.

“It’s the other things I’m worried about,” replied Mrs Weasley, suspicion still evident in the way she held herself and from her tone.

“Mother, you are so suspicious!” said George. “It can’t be healthy for you.”

Fred, seeing his mother about to start back, probably about needing to be suspicious around them, took the opportunity to change the subject. “Ah dear’ what?” he asked pointing to the parchment and discarded envelope.

“Hmm?” Mrs. Weasley had nearly forgotten about the parchment she still held in her hands when faced with, what she called, a ‘double trouble moment’. “Oh this.” She rolled the parchment up and threw it into the air. Before it had a chance to begin its descent it simply disappeared. “That was nothing really. Your father and Percy were called away. They aren’t sure when they’ll return. Some sort of Ministry business, I’m sure. They didn’t say exactly what. Why all this secrecy I’ll never understand. It didn’t used to be this way.” Mrs. Weasley lips formed a tight frown, as she seemed to be thinking of something, but it wasn't long before her old smile was back in place.

“Never mind,” she said absently as she reached over the kitchen mantel and took down the pot where they kept the Floo powder. “Everyone ready?”

Everyone nodded, though Harry and Hermione with less enthusiasm than the others.

“Okay. Who would like to go first?”

“We will.” George and Fred said simultaneously.

Mrs. Wesley once again eyed them with suspicion. “Yes, I’m sure you would. But I’m telling you two; you’d better be waiting for the rest of us. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know it’s something.” She held out the flowerpot to George and Fred. They each took a pinch of the powder.

George flicked the powder into the blaze of the large fireplace and stepped into the bright green flames that now roared high within the grate. “Diagon Alley!” he shouted, and without any ado, he was gone.

“This sure will be easier once we’re allowed to Apparate,” said Fred as he tossed his own pinch of Floo powder into the fire and repeated the process.

“Okay… who’s next?” Mrs. Weasley turned to see an ashen-faced Hermione. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

Harry and Ron turned to also look at Hermione. “N…nothing.” She stepped up and took a pinch from the flowerpot.

“This isn’t your first time using Floo powder is it now,” Mrs Weasley said softly knowing full well it wasn’t.

“Of course not,” replied Hermione. with maybe a touch of annoyance that, thankfully, no one but she noticed. “It’s just that… Well how do I know which fireplace to step out from?” she asked. “I’ve never gotten to Diagon alley by Floo before.”

“Just speak clearly. That’s the important part.” Harry said stepping forward. “Do you want me to go first?” He offered in a moment of bravery, but suddenly he too realised that he didn’t know which fireplace to step out from either. The last time he had tried this, he had ended up down Knockturn alley in a shop for items of the dark arts.

“Yes, well when you see Fred and George, you’ll know you’re at the right grate. Then just step out.”

“What if they didn’t wait?” whispered Hermione, nervously to Harry as she took a handful of the powder and threw it at the fire.

“Oh, they waited!” said Mrs Weasley firmly. “They know I’d have them spend the rest of their summer helping me around the house without magic so that they’d not have a moment to get themselves into mischief. And you know that’s what they live for,” she added with a smile.

Hermione, Ginny, Ron and Harry couldn’t help but smile as well, for the look of confidence in Mrs Weasley’s eyes said she was serious.

Feeling better for Mrs Weasley’s assurance, Hermione stepped into the emerald flames and shouted clear and loud, “Diagon Alley!” And then she was gone.

Turning back to Ginny and the boys, Mrs. Weasley held out the flowerpot. “Next.”

Hermione had never felt anything like she did while travelling by Floo powder. It was always a sort of a shock when she first got into what she called the ‘stream’. But once she had gotten over that initial shock, she was able to relax and experience the ride. Although why anyone would want to… the trip was not particularly enjoyable, the roar in her ears and the dizzying feelings were a little overwhelming, but it was unusual, akin to being on a very fast roller coaster.

As she watched glimpses of rooms flashed around her like a sort of slide show. She suddenly caught sight of Fred and George, standing very close together and talking into one another’s ears. Taking a deep breath as she to take a step toward them, the world went spinning faster. Closing her eyes to try to quell the nausea rising in her throat, she ended up hitting the side of the fireplace she was trying to get out of and stumbled.

She felt herself falling but wasn’t able to stop so she ended up being spun to the side from the impact with the solid fireplace wall. Pain erupted up and down her arm and brought tears to her eyes and fear shot through her for a moment.

“Whoa! I’ve got you.” Hermione felt a set of arms catch her just as she was destined to strike the hard floor with an embarrassing thud. “Are you okay?”

It was Fred, or was it George? Hermione wasn’t sure, but she was grateful. “Yes, thank you. That was…” she trailed off to swallow the bile that threatened to rise up and replace the nausea while Fred or George held her by the elbow to help her regain her balance. The three of them walked a little further away from the fireplace.

“Yeah. Pretty great isn’t” said George enthusiastically. Or was it Fred?. “You should have seen Fred the first time he travelled by Floo powder.” Ah, thought Hermione as she tried nervously to pull down her short skirt that had hiked itself up much higher than she was comfortable with, it was George who had caught her. “He just about broke his arm, but he did do a great somersault.”

Fred just grinned. “Thank you. I did didn’t I?” he said while trying not to stare as Hermione fiddled with her hem line.

Without notice, Harry suddenly stepped out from the fireplace. He was a little shaky, but managed to stay on his feet.

”I hate that,” he muttered under his breath. At least this time, unlike the other, he hadn’t gotten lost or smacked his head on something. Moving out of the way of the fireplace, he looked round to see where he was. The setting was very familiar, even though he had never been here before. The room was quite large and dominated by the fireplace he had come out of. A large window opposite allowed sunlight to stream in and chase away the dim light cast by an overhead chandelier to all but the darkest of corners. But what drew Harry’s attention was the view through the window. Diagon Alley.

Several dozen witches and wizards could be seen milling around outside and off to the right, just visible through the throng, was what Harry considered the ‘normal’ entrance. The wall that turned into the arch that was joined to the Leaky Cauldron.

While he had been looking outside, the others had come through the fireplace and into the room. Mrs Weasley was just double checking the list of Ginny’s equipment and telling the twins not to get lost as they pleaded to go about their own business.

“And how do you intend to pay for your supplies without me?” she demanded suspiciously.

Fred and George glanced at each other, “We have some savings of our own,” replied Fred.

“And how did you get these savings?” Mrs Weasley asked as she tucked Ginny’s list into her scarlet handbag.

“It’s our pocket money for the last few years,” replied George. “We had been saving it to spend on starting our joke store…”

“But now that we’ve reconsidered,” added Fred, moving the conversation along rapidly after seeing the glower on Mrs Weasley’s face at the mention of jokes, “we’ve decided that investing in our educations is safer.”

Mrs Weasley looked at the twins in suspicion for a moment and Harry couldn’t help but smile. He knew only too well that the money they were talking about was, in fact, part of the money he had given to them last year. Part of the 1000 galleon prize for winning the Tri-wizard cup. The money that he had won at the cost of Cedric Diggory’s life.

“Okay,” stated Mrs. Weasley at length, decided that arguing with the twins had about as much point to it as her worn out hat that had a tip that was far too floppy. “You all have your lists. We’ll stop by Gringotts first. I expect Harry will need to make a trip to his vault as well. And Hermione, you’ll need to exchange your muggle money for wizard currency, so we should get going.”

“Uh… Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“Yes dear?”

“Well, I was wondering if I might make a phone call before we leave. My mother and father are supposed to be meeting me here later, remember?” she said referring to a conversation she had had with Mrs Weasley on the evening of her arrival. “They were at a Dental conference.”

“I remember,” Mrs Weasley said softly. “Do you need someone to go with you or shall we just wait here?”

Hermione shook her head. “That’s okay. I know that there is a phone box almost outside the door of the Leaky Cauldron”

“I still think that we should wait here for you,” she said.

Hermione nodded then turned and went to look for the phone box, only to return within a couple of minutes looking decidedly dejected.

“My, that was fast.” Mrs. Weasley said. But suddenly, as though she could sense Hermione’s sadness, she smiled warmly. Well, she was a mother of seven children as well as a witch. It didn’t take but a single look at Hermione to see that the call did not go as she had expected.

“They’ve been caught up at the conference and won’t be able to make it,” Hermione replied.

“That’s a shame,” replied Mrs Weasley sympathetically.

“I suppose you’ll have to just put up with the rest of us,” joked Ron.

“Ron,” Mrs Weasley chided with her voice.

“What?” he asked innocently.

Ginny rolled her eyes and walked up to open the door, muttering under her breath to her brother as she passed, “gee, sensitive much?”

"Contents Page"  [ASR]"Chapter 6 – Trouble in Diagon Alley"  [ASR]