Emma Potter

92: All Abroad

Mr Weasly woke us after only a few hours sleep. Heused magic to pack up the tents, and we left thecampsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door ofhis cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, andhe waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas." 

"He'll be all right," said Mr. Weasley quietly as we marched offonto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, itmakes him a bit disorientated for a while . . . and that was a bigthing they had to make him forget." 

We heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where thePortkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great numberof witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of thePortkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly aspossible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire backto Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane towardthe Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we wereso exhausted, and thinking longingly of our breakfast. 

As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoedalong the lane."Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for us in thefront yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroomslippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the DailyProphet clutched in her hand. 

"Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —" 

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the DailyProphet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-andwhite photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops. 

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasingMr. Weasley and staring around at us all with red eyes, "you'realive. . . . Oh boys . . ." 

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George andpulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads bangedtogether.

 "Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —" 

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting tosob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who hadgot you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't getenough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

 "Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr.Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up thatpaper, I want to see what it says. . . ." 

When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, andHermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, intowhich Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens OldFirewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasleyscanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

 "I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark wizards runningunchecked . . . national disgrace . . . Who wrote this? Ah . . . ofcourse . . . Rita Skeeter." 

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percyfuriously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping outvampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of theGuidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —" 

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up." 

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behindhis glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article."Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea andwhiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"