Delicate

Happy Birthday, Rosie

Dad takes my bags into the airport for me and we all crowd around the check-in desk, where the poor woman behind the desk has no idea what awaits her. The airport is packed with Muggles rushing around with suitcases, couples running to each other hugging, people saying goodbye. Oh, and seventeen magical people.

"Good afternoon!" Grandad cries in excitement to the woman at the check-in desk, "We would like to get onto this airplane, please!" He points to the flight number on the ticket.

"Will you be checking in bags today, sir?" the woman asks in a bored voice.

"Yes, we certainly will!"

His enthusiasm is water off a duck's back to this woman. Al is glancing around the airport happily, almost as excited as Grandad is. However the rest of my cousins, and even Dad, seem really nervous.

"Did you pack this bag yourself, sir?" the woman asks, fixing a tag to Grandad's bag.

"Yes, well, the wife helped," he grins pleasantly, and the woman looks at Nana to confirm this.

"Yes, yes, we've packed all of these bags ourselves," says Nana, apparently having more common sense about the Muggle world than Grandad. The woman checks everyone's passports, checks in all of the bags and tells us which gate we are to board from. It's all fairly simple, but Grandad looks like she's speaking a completely different language to him. "Have you anything sharp in your hand luggage?"

"No, well unless you count..." Grandad pulls out his wand, thus violating Weasley Family Holiday's second rule. Charlie smacks himself on the forehead, while Dad shakes his head in embarrassment.

"You can't bring your erm - stick - onto the flight. It can be classified as dangerous."

And she doesn't even know what we could do with one of those things.

"Okay gang!" Grandad announces, "All sticks into the suitcases!" The woman looks every shocked to see seventeen 'sticks' being shoved into Nana Molly's suitcase, which is the only one that hasn't been put onto the conveyor belt yet. "We're, erm, we're stick collectors," says Grandad lamely.

"I can't believe this," James whispers furiously to me, "They're taking our wands? What happens if we need them?"

"We won't need them," I sigh, "Relax, James, it's not a big deal. Security is really tight with these Muggles."

"But why?" James frowns.

"So the Russians won't try to kill the President again," I say sarcastically, but the look on James' face tells me that he actually believes me.

While going through security, Grandad is so amazed by all of the electronic Muggle contraptions that he walks through the security system without taking his change out of his pocket. The security guard eyes the sickles and knuts with suspicion and runs them through the machine four times before giving them back.

"They're probably just checking I don't have a bomb built in to one of the coins," says Grandad loudly to Dom and me.

What an idiot.

Now I can see where the rest of us got our stupidity from.

Trust my grandfather to yell the word 'bomb' in the security area of Heathrow airport.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR, OR WE'LL TAKE IT AS A SIGN OF AGGRESSION!"

As I predicted, five armed security guards run towards Grandad and seize him, while the bomb disposal unit surround the area. A loud siren sounds and a cool, calm voice comes over the intercom.