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 pleasemen
turned up -"
Mr. Weasley groaned.
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"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.
"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and
everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's
supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night. ."
"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or
anything before you go?"
"Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.
Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put
it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.
"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.
Harry could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy,
and the girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the
right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.
"I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys, said Mr. Weasley to Harry, Ron,
and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate.
"Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"
"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."
As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.
"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now."
"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley.
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"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast.
"Isn't he that nutter -"
"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.
"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley
left the room. "Birds of a feather. . ."
"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.
"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.
"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I
know he's a genius and everything.. ."
"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry.
"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when
Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best. . . a Dark
wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look "Half the cells in Azkaban
are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though. . . the families
of people he caught, mainly. . . and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his
old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."
Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but
Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.
"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr.
Crouch is really starting to rely on me."
"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your
name soon."
Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three
ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.
"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Harry as
they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy
Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare. . . . Oh dear, they
don't look happy, do they?"
Harry didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported
overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it
help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off
unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell
with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.
The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that they were jammed in the
back of the taxis with their trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from
the fireworks, and by the time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione
105
were all severely scratched. They were very relieved to get out at King's Cross,
even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and they got soaked
carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station.
Harry was used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now. It was a
simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing
platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way,
so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Harry,
Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by
Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier,
chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it. . . and as they did so,
platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.
The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds
of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and
parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier
than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron,
and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a
compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the
platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.
"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he
hugged Ginny good-bye.
"Why?" said Fred keenly.
"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified
information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."
"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his
pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.
"Why?" said George impatiently.
"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might
even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."
"A bit of what?" said Ron.
But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the
train doors.
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on
board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.
"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas,
but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one
thing and another."
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"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"
"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to
be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"
"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you? Won't
you, Fred? And you, George?"
The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.
"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs.
Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the
corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment. The thick rain
splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his
trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage
to muffle his hooting.
"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily,
sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother
won't say. Wonder what --"
"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing
toward the compartment next to theirs. Harry and Ron listened, and heard a
familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.
". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts,
you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of
Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit
that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far
away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about
the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense
rubbish we do. . . .