Chapter Three

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Chapter Three- ABORT MISSION! ABORT!

I wake up to George nudging my shoulder.

"What?" I mutter, opening my eyes.

"We're about to land," Fred grins.

"TOUCHDOWN!" I shout as, with a slight bump, we hit the ground. We land next to a tumbledown garage in the small yard of The Burrow.

The Burrow looks as though it had once been a large pigsty, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several storeys high and so crooked it looks like it's being held up by magic, which it probably is.

Four or five chimneys are perched on top of the red roof. A lop-sided sign is sticking out the ground near the entrance with the words 'The Burrow' written on it. Round the front door lay a jumble of wellington boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat chickens are pecking their way around the yard.

"It's not much," says Ron.

"It's brilliant," Harry says happily.

We all climb out the car.

"Ow," I mutter, jumping up and down. "Numb butt! Numb butt!"

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," says Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, "Mum, look who turned up in the night!" and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."

"Right," says Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the -"

Ron suddenly goes a nasty greenish colour, his eyes fixed on the house. We all wheel around.

Mrs Weasley is marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it's remarkable how much she looks like a sabre-tooth tiger.

"Ah," says Fred.

"Oh dear," says George.

Understatement much?

ABORT MISSION! ABORT!

Mrs Weasley comes to a halt in front of us, her hands in her hips, staring at all of our faces. She's wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.

"So," she says.

"Morning, Mum," says George, in what he clearly thinks is a jaunty, winning voice.

It isn't.

He just sounds drunk...

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" says Mrs Weasley in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to -"

All three of Mrs Weasley's sons are taller than she is, but they cower as her rage breaks over them.

Notice I say them, not us.

"Beds empty! No note! Car gone ... could have crushed ... out of my mind with worry ... did you care? ... never, as long as I've lived ... you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy ..."

"Perfect Percy," mutters Fred.

Shouldn't have said that, Freddie boy!

I wish I had popcorn right now...

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yells Mrs Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job -"

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