"Ron?" Harry breathes, a smile creeping onto his face. "What are you — how are you — ?"
"What's been going on?" Ron says instead of answering his question. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles —"
"It wasn't me — and how did he know?"
"He works for the Ministry," Ron says. "You know we're not supposed to do spells outside school —"
"I told you, I didn't — but it'll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out, because the Ministry'll think that's the second spell I've done in three days, so —"
"Stop gibbering," Ron interrupts him. "We've come to take you home with us."
Harry pauses. We? "But you can't magic me out either —"
"We don't need to," Ron says, a smile in his voice. "You forget who I've got with me."
"All right, Harry?" another voice — Fred — says. "Hey, I'm throwing a rope. Tie it around the bars."
"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead," Harry says as he ties the rope tightly around the bars.
"Don't worry," Fred says, "and stand back."
Harry steps back next to Hedwig's cage, who has now fallen silent. A car — Harry doesn't even want to know — revs up louder and louder before the bars are pulled out of the window with a crunch.
Harry listens for any movement from his relatives and smiles when he hears none, rushing back to the window.
"Get in," Ron says, presumably holding a hand out.
"But my Hogwarts stuff — my wand — my broomstick —"
"Where is it?"
"Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can't get out of this room —"
"No problem," George's voice says. "Out of the way, Harry."
Harry steps out of the way as the twins climb into his room like cats. George walks over to his door and begins to do something that rattles the doorknob quietly.
"A lot of wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing how to pick a lock," Fred says, "but we feel they're skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow."
Harry is thankful that they did learn them or they wouldn't be able to get his stuff.
There's a small click and then George is whispering quickly, "So — we'll get your trunk — you grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron."
"Watch out for the bottom stair — it creaks," Harry warns.
They leave his room and Harry turns back around. He dashes around, grabbing some little things he wants to take and then he helps Fred and George heave his trunk up the stairs. They manage to push it into the car and just as Harry hoists himself onto the window sill, a thought strikes through him. A split second later, the subject of said thought screeches and he winces, climbing down.
"THAT RUDDY OWL!"
"Dammit, Hedwig," Harry hisses, grabbing her cage just as he hears the landing light click on. He passes her to Ron and climbs onto the chest of drawers as Uncle Vernon reaches the door and pounds on it before opening it and stumbling in.
He gives a great roar and Harry's ankle is seized. Fred, George, and Ron grab his arms and pull as hard as they can.
"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon yells. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!"
The three give a gigantic tug and Harry's ankle slips out of Uncle Vernon's grip. He lands on top of Ron and quickly scrambles into a sitting position as Fred steps on the gas. He rolls the window down and sticks his head out, yelling, "See you next summer!" at the family, earning laughter from the three boys, both for the joke and his words.
He sits back in his seat, grinning, "Let Hedwig out. She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings in ages."
When Ron picks the lock and the cage opens, Hedwig nuzzles against Harry's face before flying past him and into the air. Harry's mind briefly reminds him of his cane that's been lying in his cupboard since last summer and he frowns. He forgot to mention that to Fred and George.
"So — what's the story, Harry?" Ron asks, interrupting Harry's thought process. "What's been happening?"
Harry tells them about Dobby, the warning and the fiasco with the pudding in the kitchen. After he finishes, there's a long, shocked silence.
"Very fishy," Fred finally says.
"Definitely dodgy," George agrees. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"
"I don't think he could," Harry says, shrugging. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."
There's a beat of silence.
"You think he was lying to me," Harry says. It's a statement, not a question. He knows a disbelieving silence when he hears one. Mrs. Figg, the woman who used to babysit him when the Dursleys would go out, is the best at them.
"Well," Fred says tentatively, "put it this way — house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"
"Yes," he and Ron say instantly.
"Draco Malfoy," Harry elaborates. "He hates me."
"Draco Malfoy?" George says. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" Harry raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
"I've heard Dad talking about him," George says. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."
"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," Fred says, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung — Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle."
"I don't know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf..." Harry mumbles.
"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll be rich," Fred says wisely.
"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," George says. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house..."
Harry frowns. Maybe they're right. He hadn't really taken Dobby seriously but honestly, you never know with magic and especially considering what happened last year...
"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," Ron says. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters," Harry heart flutters and his face burns at the thought of Ron worrying over him. He quickly recovers and pushes that out of his mind even quicker, very much ignoring it. "I thought it was Errol's fault at first —"
"Who's Errol?"
"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes —"
"Who?"
"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," Fred says.
"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," Ron continues. "Said he needed him."
"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," George says. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room... I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge... You're driving too far west, Fred," he adds.
"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" Harry says, hoping his tone is more 'scolding-responsible-friend' than 'tired-mum' but even he can hear the 'tired-mum' in his voice.
"Er, no," Ron says, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."
"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?"
"He works in the most boring department," Ron says. "The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Harry blinks, immediately guessing what that means, "And — well, I'm assuming this is a flying car and — ?"
Fred laughs, "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."
Harry can concur with Mrs Weasley. If his husband — oh god, when had the imaginary wife become a man? — did the exact thing his job was out to stop, he'd be pretty angry too. Not that being interested in Muggle things is a bad thing — there's plenty interesting things in the Muggle world that Harry is interested in — but when it's your job to stop the very thing you're doing... but Harry won't judge the man simply because of this information. If he had a hand in raising Ron — or any of his brothers — then he must be just as nice.
"That's the main road," George says. "We'll be there in ten minutes... Just as well, it's getting light... We're a little way outside the village. Ottery St. Catchpole."
Harry feels the car get lower and lower before —
"Touchdown!" Fred exclaims after a bump. The car comes to a stop and Harry assumes they've made it to Ron's house.
"It's not much," Ron mumbles.
"Don't go getting depressed about it — I can't see it," Harry grins and Ron laughs. Christ, Harry missed his laugh.
They get out of the car.
"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," Fred tells them, "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," Ron says. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the — at the top —"
He stops and Harry's heart sinks.
"Ah," Fred says, fear evident in his voice.
"Oh, dear," George mutters.
Harry slowly turns around.
A moment of silence.
"So," the slightly familiar voice of Mrs Weasley says.
"Morning, Mum," George says jauntily.
"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" Mrs Weasley says in a deadly whisper much scarily than Hermione's. Harry assumes she's had a lot more practice than Hermione.
"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —"
And then she explodes.
"Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — 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," Fred mutters and even Harry knows that was a mistake.
"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" Mrs Weasley yells. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —"
Harry, who has honestly been thinking the very same things (though he's very glad to have been saved), happily shoves his hands into the pockets of his too-big sweatpants and waits with a grin.
His grin falters, however, when she directs her words at him, "I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear. Come in and have some breakfast."
Harry is very glad to have Ron's elbow in his hand again. Ron leans close and mutters, "You're very mean, y'know that, right?"
Harry's grin returns, "You deserved it, you prick."
"And who was it that just saved your life?"
"I've no idea what you're talking about," Harry turns his head away from him and Ron laughs.
They enter the house and all take a seat at the table next to the kitchen while Mrs Weasley begins cooking sausages and eggs. Harry almost has the nerve to ask if she needs help but judging by her angry muttering and clattering, he thinks she's better off cooking on her own for now.
"I don't blame you, dear," she assures Harry as she tips sausages onto his plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really, flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —"
"It was cloudy, Mum!" Fred exclaims.
"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs Weasley snaps.
"They were starving him, Mum!" George cuts in now.
"And you!" she begins cutting some bread for Harry.
Harry feels very odd sitting here and letting her make his plate but it's not like he's going to complain. That would be silly.
Harry hears fast footsteps, a squeal, and then more fast footsteps.
Harry blinks, "What?"
Ron laughs quietly, saying in an even quieter voice, "Ginny. My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."
"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred says before quickly shutting his mouth.
The rest of breakfast is silent and Harry, considering how much talking has been going on in just an hour or two, is happy for it.
"Blimey, I'm tired," Fred yawns, the last one to finish eating. "I think I'll go to bed and —"
"You will not," Mrs Weasley snaps. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again —"
"Oh, Mum —"
"And you two," she says. "You can go up to bed, dear," she adds to Harry. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car —"
Harry, who actually did get some sleep and feels wide awake, quickly says, "I'll help Ron. I've never seen a de-gnoming —"
"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," Mrs Weasley tells him. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject —"
George groans, "Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —"
"Lockhart?" Harry asks, curious.
"Oh, he is marvelous," Mrs Weasley says dreamily. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book..."
"Mum fancies him," Fred whispers very audibly.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," Mrs Weasley says, sounding quite embarrassed. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."
They all head outside and immediately, Ron snorts, "I've never seen a de-gnoming, honestly, Harry."
Harry grins, "She didn't catch it."
"Too busy staring at Lockhart," George says. "Bloody git is ridiculous — obviously a fraud but he's pretty so all the girls love him."
"Obviously?" Harry raises his eyebrow.
"You ask him a question about his books and he just evades it — acts like he didn't hear you. I've read some of his interviews in the Prophet and it's like listening to Lee lie to Snape about what we had just been doing," Fred says.
"You listen to that bullshit?" George says and Harry remembers very quickly that the two boys are fourth years now. "Merlin, you're whipped."
"Oi! Piss off!" there's a smack and George shrieks. Ron laughs, presumably at both of them.
"Boys!" Mrs Weasley's warning yell comes from a window not far from them. "You keep up that language and I'll give you something to swear about!"
Harry snickers as the boys quickly begin actually de-gnoming the garden. Harry attempts to get one but quickly learns the job is better done by the people with sight. Harry continues to talk to them, though, as they work. Eventually, they all stand up straight and Ron says, "They'll be back. They love it here... Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny..."
Just then, the front door slams.
"He's back!" George says. "Dad's home!"
They hurry back through the garden and into the house.
"What a night," Mr Weasley grumbles as they all sit down at the table around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned..."
"Find anything, Dad?" Fred says eagerly.
"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," Mr Weasley yawns. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness..."
"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" George mumbles.
"Just Muggle-baiting," Mr Weasley sighs. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it... Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face... But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe —"
"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?" Mrs Weasley appears and Harry flinches only slightly.
"C-cars, Molly, dear?" Mr Weasley says tentatively.
Harry grins again and earns an elbow to the side from Ron for it.
"Yes, Arthur, cars," Mrs Weasley growls. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."
Mr Weasley is silent for a moment.
"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth... There's a loophole in the law, you'll find... As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't —"
"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" Mrs Weasley shouts. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"
"Harry?" Mr Weasley says. "Harry who?" He pauses and then says, "Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about —"
"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!" Mrs Weasley yells, effectively distracting Harry's face from heating up at the thought of Ron talking about him. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"
"Did you really?" Mr Weasley says eagerly and Harry suppresses a laugh. "Did it go all right? I — I mean... that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed..."
"Let's leave them to it," Ron mutters to Harry. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom."
Ron pulls Harry along, zigzagging up a staircase that seems never ending. On the third landing, a door snaps shut and Ron sighs, "Ginny. You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally —"
Two more flights of stairs later and finally, they enter Ron's room.
He stops at the door after Ron closes it, moving his head around nervously.
"What?" Ron asks, sounding just as nervous as Harry.
Harry realizes with a start that Ron is still self-conscious about the house and momentarily puts his own worries aside, "Ron, whatever you've got in here, I can't see. Quit worrying, you nitwit."
Ron sighs, "Why'd you get that look on your face?"
"I can't see," Harry says again. "Ron — no offense or anything — you're the worst person to live with because you just own so much and it's always everywhere and I'm afraid I'm going to step on something and break it if I just start walking around."
Ron lets out a startled laugh, "Right, my bad. I'll, uh, clean the floor up a bit. Also — er — we'll be putting a camp bed in for you to sleep on and it'll get even smaller. You won't have much room to step on anything, anyway."
"Oh my god, Ronald, if you get insecure about the house I can't even see one more time..."
Ron's laugh is more real this time, "Sorry, sorry. I'll stop."
"You better," Harry mumbles. "So, what do wizards do in their free time?"
"Well, I'm so glad you asked..."