evealed as they entered the garden, and saw that Bill and
Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high
above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out
of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione
was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.
40
Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off.
There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy's head
poking out of a window on the second floor.
"Will you keep it down?!" he bellowed.
"Sorry, Perce," said Bill, grinning. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"
"Very badly," said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling,
Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with
a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from
nowhere.
By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs.
Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were
settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who
had been living on meals of increasingly stale cake all summer, this was paradise,
and at first, Harry listened rather than talked as he helped himself to chicken and
ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad.
At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on
cauldron bottoms.
"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying
pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of
things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, its extremely busy
in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup.
We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games
and Sports. Ludo Bagman -"
"I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley mildly. "He was the one who got us such good
tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of
trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over."
"Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he
ever got to be Head of Department ... when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't
see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out
what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a
month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"
"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says
Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was
someone in my department, I'd be worried. . . ."
"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," said Percy. "I hear she's been shunted from
department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth ... but all
the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a
personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think
Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she
41
probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However"
- Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine -
"we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical
Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you
know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup."
Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table
where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. "You know the one I'm talking
about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."
Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry and Hermione, "He's been trying to get
us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of
thick-bottomed cauldrons."
In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring,
which seemed to be a recent acquisition.
". . . with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"
"Mum,.no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty
of treasure," said Bill patiently.
"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand
lovingly." I wish you'd let me give it a trim. . . ."
"I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned,
Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's...."
Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about
the World Cup.
"It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They
flattened Peru in the semifinals."
"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," said Fred.
"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish
England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."
"What happened?" said Harry eagerly, regretting more than ever his isolation from
the wizarding world when he was stuck on Privet Drive.
"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie
gloomily. "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was
slaughtered by Luxembourg."
Harry had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team ever since his first year at
Hogwarts and owned one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. Flying
came more naturally to Harry than anything else in the magical world, and he
played in the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House team.
42
Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had
their homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths
were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells
of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with
the world as he watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes,
laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks.
Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy
talking, then he said very quietly to Harry, "So - have you heard from Sirius
lately?"
Hermione looked around, listening closely.
"Yeah," said Harry softly, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He
might write back while I'm here."
He suddenly remembered the reason he had written to Sirius, and for a moment
was on the verge of telling Ron and Hermione about his scar hurting again, and
about the dream that had awoken him ... but he really didn't want to worry them
just now, not when he himself was feeling so happy and peaceful.
"Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You
really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to
get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you
tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time
after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."
"Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically.
"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the
state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."
"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the
face. "It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. "We sent it."
43
CHAPTER SIX - THE PORTKEY
Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to steep in Ron's room when he was
being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.
"Time to go, Harry, dear," she whispered, moving away to wake Ron.
Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside.
Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of Harry's mattress
he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.
"'S' time already?" said Fred groggily.
They dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the four
of them headed downstairs into the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr.
Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He
looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his
clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a
very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.
"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I
look like a Muggle, Harry?"
"Yeah," said Harry, smiling, "very good."
"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a
huge yawn.
"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot
over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit
of a lie-in."
Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing
almost instantly in another, but had never known any Hogwarts student to do it,
and understood that it was very difficult.
"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward
him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"
"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs.
Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?"
She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.
"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked.
44
"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his
jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people
the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when
it's not done property it can lead to nasty complicati