Emma Potter

88: Back to the Burrow

Harry and I spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to our sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past us, until we startedto feel sick and closed our eyes. Then, when at last we felt ourselves slowing down, we threw out our hands and came to a halt in time toprevent ourselves from falling face forward out of the Weasleys'kitchen fire.

 "Did he eat it?" said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull me to my feet. 

"Yeah," said Harry, straightening up.

 "What was it?" I asked grinning

 "Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them onall summer. . . ."

 The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; I looked aroundand saw that Ron and George were sitting at the scrubbed woodentable with two red-haired people Harry and I had never seen before,though I knew immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie,the two eldest Weasley brothers.

 "How're you doing, Harry, Emma?" said the nearer of the two, grinningat us and holding out a large hand, which I shook, feelingcalluses and blisters under my fingers. This had to be Charlie, whoworked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins,shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long andlanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weatherbeaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms weremuscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it. 

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's and my hand. Billcame as something of a surprise. I knew that he worked forthe wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy atHogwarts; Harry had always imagined Bill to be an older version ofPercy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyonearound. However, Bill was — there was no other word for it —cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail.He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang danglingfrom it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rockconcert, except that I recognized his boots to be made, not ofleather, but of dragon hide.

 Before any of us could say anything else, there was a faintpopping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air atGeorge's shoulder. He was looking angrier than Harry had everseen him."

That wasn't funny, Fred!" he shouted. "What on earth did yougive that Muggle boy?

""I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with another evil grin. "I just dropped it. . . . It was his fault he went and ate it, I never toldhim to."

 "You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knewhe'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet —" 

"How big did his tongue get?" I asked eagerly."It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!" 

Me, Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again. 

"It isn't funny!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard–Muggle relations! I spend half my lifecampaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my ownsons —"

 "We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fredindignantly.

 "No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," saidGeorge. "Isn't he, Emma?" 

"Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley," I said earnestly.

 "That's not the point!" raged Mr. Weasley. "You wait until I tellyour mother —"

 "Tell me what?" said a voice behind them.Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a short,plump woman with a very kind face, though her eyes werepresently narrowed with suspicion.