Dawn Rivera

Book 7: The Nine Potters

One by one, we pop into sight as our Disillusionment Charms lift. Dominating the scene is Hagrid, wearing a helmet and goggles and sitting astride an enormous motorbike with a black sidecar attached. All around him other people are dismounting from brooms and, in two cases, black winged horses.

Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtles into our midst. There is a general cry of greeting as Hermione and I fling our arms around him, Ron and Danny clap him on the back and Hagrid says, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"Definitely," says Harry, beaming around at us all. His eyes linger a little longer on me. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"

"Change of plan," growls Mad-Eye, who is holding two enormous, bulging sacks and whose magical eye is spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."

Harry leads us all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chatting, we settle on chairs, set ourselves upon Mrs Dursley's gleaming work-surfaces, or lean up against her spotless appliances: Danny, with his neatly groomed hair and bright blue eyes; Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in a long plait; me, my sleek hair tied back in a short plait also; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred abc long-haired; Mr Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short hair is her favourite shade of bright pink; Lupin, greyer, more lined; Fleur, slender and beautiful, with her long, silvery blonde hair; Kingsley, bald, black, broad-shouldered; Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunch-backed to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, and Mundungus Fletcher, smell, dirty and hangdog, with his droopy, basset hound's eyes and matted hair. And then there's Harry. My heart seems to expand and glow at the sight: I feel incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom I wanted to strangle last time we met, but none of them could ever possibly compare to the sight of seeing Harry after so long.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" Danny calls across the room.

"He can get along without me for one night," says Kingsley. "Harry's more important."

"Harry, guess what?" says Tonks from her Percy on top of the washing machine, and she wiggles her left hand at him; a ring glitters there.

"You got married!" Harry yelps, looking from her to Lupin.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congrat - " says Danny.

"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cosy catch-up later!" roars Moody over the hubbub, and silence falls in the kitchen. Moody drops the sacks at his feet and turns to Harry. "As Dedalus probably to,d you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offence to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you getting out of here safely.
Second problem: you're under-age, which means you've still got the Trace on you."

"I don't - " says Harry.

"The Trace, the Trace!" says Mad-Eye impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about under-age magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters.
We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the nonentity you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection you're mother gave you. In shirt: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."