Mr. Weasley woke them after only a few hours’ sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and they left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him,
“Considering what they had to make him forget, it makes sense that he would, since they most likely had to do a powerful memory charm, over the regular ones they were doing,” Cedric said.
and he waved them off with a vague “Merry Christmas.”
“I really hope that he can remember what time of year it is soon, at the very least,” Hermione said.
“He’ll be all right,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, as they marched off onto the moor. “Sometimes, when a person’s memory’s modified, it makes them a bit disorientated for a while ... and that was a big thing they had to make him forget.”
They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the Portkeys lay and, when they reached it, they found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys,
“They must be like us, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible,” Hermione said.
“After what happened earlier, I can say that it makes sense,” Luna said. “I have the feeling that those who could apparate did so immediately as well.”
all clamouring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tyre back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.
“I wonder if Dad and I have already left,” Cedric said, noticing that it didn't say anything about them being with the Weasleys. Of course, it was possible that his father had side-apparated him back home, since it was only the two of them. The Portkeys were mostly for larger families that couldn't do that, as Apparation wasn't the most pleasant way to travel, from what he'd heard.
They walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole towards The Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because they were so exhausted, and thinking longingly of their breakfast. As they rounded the corner in the lane, and The Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the damp lane.
“Mrs. Weasley,” Luna said.
“It must've already gotten into the papers, if she was waiting for them,” Cedric said.
“And she probably automatically assumed the worse,” Hermione said.
“Most likely,” Cedric said. “But can you blame her, especially knowing what the Dark Mark was used for?”
“No, I can't,” Hermione said.
“Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!”
Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running towards them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a screwed-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. “Arthur – I’ve been so worried – so worried –“
She flung her arms around Mr Weasley’s neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Harry saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling, black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the tree-tops.
“That would be terrifying for her to wake up to,” Luna said.
“You’re all right,” Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr Weasley and staring around at them all with red eyes, “you’re alive ... oh, boys ...”
And to everybody’s surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.
“Oh, yeah,” Hermione said, remembering something. “Considering the way she acted before we left, it's probably been eating her alive when she didn't know what was going on, and only knows that the Dark Mark was seen. For all she knew they could have been hurt or died.”
“Ouch! Mum – you’re strangling us –“
“I shouted at you before you left!” Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn’t get enough O.W.Ls? Oh, Fred ... George ...”
“Come on, now, Molly, we’re all perfectly OK,” said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back towards the house.
“I'm sure that Fred and George really appreciate that,” Luna said.
“Bill,” he added in an undertone, “pick up that paper, I want to see what it says ...”
“Yeah, it would be a good idea to see what it says,” Cedric said.
“I have a feeling that he's suspecting that there's going to be something bad in it,” Hermione said.
“Well, depending on who wrote it will say what's in it,” Cedric said.
When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.
“I knew it,” said Mr. Weasley heavily.
“And that right there says that it's written by someone who would cast the worst light upon it,” Cedric said.
“Ministry blunders ... culprits not apprehended ... lax security ... Dark wizards running unchecked ... national disgrace ... Who wrote this? Ah ... of course ... Rita Skeeter.”
“Oh, her,” Cedric said, frowning. He'd heard a lot about Ms. Skeeter from his mother, and what he'd heard was anything but complimentary.
“That woman’s got it in for the Ministry of Magic!” said Percy furiously. “Last week she was saying we’re wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires!”
“Which, if they were doing, she'd turn around and say that they must not follow their own laws a whole lot,” Luna said, who was well aware of how Rita Skeeter was. After all, her father was a journalist – albeit a strange one – and he did have a habit of keeping track of other journalists.
“As if it wasn’t specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans –“
“Do us a favour, Perce,” said Bill, yawning, “and shut up.”
“Yeah, listening to him at that hour in the morning probably wouldn't be all that pleasant,” Harry said.
“I’m mentioned,” said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.
“Probably not by name, though,” Luna said. “Otherwise, Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have been so worried.”
“Where?” spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whisky. “If I’d seen that, I’d have known you were alive!”
“Not by name,” said Mr. Weasley. “Listen to this: 'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark, alleging that nobody had been hurt,' “
“But no one was,” Hermione said. “Except for Winky, but I have the feeling that no one would really care about that, considering that the only way she was hurt was that Mr. Crouch fired her to keep her from being interrogated enough to tell people what he's hiding.”
“They most likely wouldn't,” Luna said.
“And it's Skeeter writing that, meaning that she's going to put in more gossip than tell the truth. After all, it'll be the false things she writes that'll sell more papers,” Cedric said.
“Let me guess, she puts in just enough truth to the articles so that she can't be accused of just trying to stir up trouble,” Hermione said.
“Sometimes, she doesn't put in all truth, but she does twist some facts around to suit her needs,” Cedric said.
“ 'but refusing to give any more information.' “
“There wasn't really any more information to give, considering that he gave what he knew without mentioning what they found out,” Cedric said. “While he wasn't actually cleared to say anything since he wasn't the Head of his Department – his office is one of the branches of the DMLE, which means that that head of the DMLE is his department head – as a Ministry official, he was required to say something. And, if he hadn't, then Rita would simply say that it was horrid that no one said anything, and gone off on the Ministry from that angle.”
“ 'Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Oh, really,” said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. “Nobody was hurt, what was I supposed to say? Rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods ... well, there certainly will be rumours now she’s printed that.”
“I think it's sad that people believe what she says when it's not an official report,” Hermione said. “Plus, if she's the way that you say she is, what'll happen if she ends up writing the wrong thing. I mean, someone might just snap and kill or harm her in some way or another.”
“And I doubt she really cares,” Cedric said. “I mean, she's kind of on a high horse, and thinks that she's untouchable.”
“So, she doesn't realize that, sooner or later, someone is going to come and knock her off of her high horse,” Hermione said.
“No, I don't think she does,” Cedric said.
He heaved a deep sigh. “Molly, I’m going to have to go into the office, this is going to take some smoothing over.”
“He better not get yelled at,” Hermione said.
“I doubt the head of the DMLE will, though the Minister doing so is another matter entirely,” Cedric said. “From what I've heard, Amelia Bones is pretty fair, and not only knows that something had to be said, but how Skeeter is like.”
“I’ll come with you, Father,” said Percy importantly. “Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person.”
“I'm sure that he'll be so happy to have that,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Somehow, she got the feeling that no one would really care about that cauldron report after what had just happened.
He bustled out of the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley looked most upset. “Arthur, you’re supposed to be on holiday! This hasn’t got anything to do with your office, surely they can handle this without you?”
“He probably feels that he has to go considering that it was him who unofficially 'spoke to the press',” Luna said.
“I’ve got to go, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley, “I’ve made things worse. I’ll just change into my robes and I’ll be off ...”
“Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself, “Hedwig hasn’t arrived with a letter for me, has she?”
“Hedwig, dear?” said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. “No ... no, there hasn’t been any post at all.”
“You were hoping that Sirius had written back to you,” Hermione said.
“Yeah,” Harry said.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I have the feeling that it might be awhile before he does. After all, who knows were he went,” Cedric said.
Ron and Hermione looked curiously at Harry.
With a meaningful look at both of them he said, “All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?”
“Yeah ... think I will, too,” said Ron at once. “Hermione?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, and the three of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
“I think anyone could tell that you just wanted to talk to each other,” Cedric said. “Because that was a horrible way to get away from the others.”
“It'll probably help since the others are probably distracted at the moment,” Luna said. “I doubt anyone will call you guys out on the whole just wanting to talk to each other deal.”
“What’s up, Harry?” said Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them.
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Harry said. “On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again.”
Ron and Hermione’s reactions were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them back in his bedroom in Privet Drive. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts matron.
“Well, you really do know me,” Hermione said. “At least, you know my book self really well.”
Ron simply looked dumbstruck. “But – he wasn’t there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean – last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn’t he?”
“And you were right about his reactions as well,” Cedric said.
“I’m sure he wasn’t in Privet Drive,” said Harry. “But I was dreaming about him ... him and Peter – you know, Wormtail. I can’t remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill ... someone.”
He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying ‘me’, but couldn’t bring himself to make Hermione look any more horrified than she already did.
Harry, chances are, if I am as smart as people have mentioned, I probably know that it's you they were plotting to kill,” Hermione said. “It's probably why I'm so horrified.”
“It was only a dream,” said Ron bracingly. “Just a nightmare.”
“I really have no reason to be dreaming of that, though,” Harry said. “And, if it was just a nightmare, then there was no reason for my scar to be hurting as it said it did.”
“Yeah, but was it, though?” said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. “It’s weird, isn’t it ... my scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort’s sign’s up in the sky again.”
“That is a strange coincidence,” Cedric said. “But I really don't think that they're actually related.”
“Don’t – say – his – name!” Ron hissed through gritted teeth.
“You know, one would think that he would have gotten used to saying his name, since you do it almost every time you talk about Riddle,” Luna said.
“And remember what Professor Trelawney said?” Harry went on, ignoring Ron.
“As you probably do most of the time,” Cedric said.
“I have the feeling that mentioning her is going to rattle me a bit,” Hermione said. “Remember, I really don't like her.”
“At the end of last year?”
Professor Trelawney was their Divination teacher at Hogwarts.
Hermione’s terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort. “Oh, Harry, you aren’t going to pay any attention to anything that old fraud says?”
“Considering that she wasn't lying about that, and it actually was a prophecy that was partially coming true that very night, I think that he has it right to believe it,” Luna said. “That's really the only thing that he has to believe from her mouth, of course. He shouldn't take anything else she says as truth.”
“I probably ignore that little fact since it's her who said it, and I really hate her,” Hermione said.
“You weren’t there,” said Harry. “You didn’t hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance – a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again ... greater and more terrible than ever before ... and he’d manage it because his servant was going to go back to him ... and that night Wormtail escaped.”
There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absent-mindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.
“Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Are you expecting a letter?”
“I told Sirius about my scar,” said Harry, shrugging. “I’m waiting for his answer.”
“Which is a good idea, though I have the feeling that he actually won't know what to do, since you're kind of unique,” Cedric said.
“Good thinking!” said Ron, his expression clearing. “I bet Sirius’ll know what to do!”
“I hoped he’d get back to me quickly,” said Harry.
“But we don’t know where Sirius is ... he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn’t he?” said Hermione reasonably. “Hedwig’s not going to manage that journey in a few days.”
“That's true,” Harry said, sighing.
“Yeah, I know,” said Harry, but there was a leaden feeling in his stomach as he looked out of the window at the Hedwig-free sky.
“Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry,” said Ron. “Come on – three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play ... you can try out the Wronski Feint ...”
“I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, Harry hardly got any sleep,” Hermione said.
“I'll probably agree with Ron, though,” Harry said.
“Well, hopefully, you don't fall of your broom from being too tired then,” Hermione said.
“Ron,” said Hermione, in an I-don’t-think-you’re-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, “Harry doesn’t want to play Quidditch right now ...”
“I probably should have worded that better,” Hermione said.
“he’s worried, and he’s tired ... we all need to go to bed ...”
“Yeah, I want to play Quidditch,” said Harry suddenly. “Hang on, I’ll get my Firebolt.”
Hermione left the room, muttering something which sounded very much like “Boys”.
“It probably was,” Hermione said.
Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy was at home much over the following week. Both left the house each morning before the rest of the family got up, and returned well after dinner every night.
“It’s been absolute uproar,” Percy told them importantly, the Sunday evening before they were due to return to Hogwarts. “I’ve been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers”
“Which probably don't do any good but cause deafness to the person who has to read them,” Cedric said.
“and of course, if you don’t open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders.”
“Why are they all sending Howlers?” asked Ginny, who was mending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living-room fire.
“Complaining about security at the World Cup,” said Percy.
“Which was partially Skeeter's fault, what with the article she wrote. After all, she gave people a viable party to blame,” Cedric said.
“Well, the Ministry is still to blame for letting all of those Death Eaters to walk free of their crimes anyway,” Hermione said. “So I really don't have much sympathy to them. Plus, I have the feeling that they're probably not even trying to find those people, since doing that would probably require them to actually do their jobs.”
“And, considering who some of these followers are – like Malfoy's father – it's not like the Minister would be willing to have his friend be hauled in for questioning like he should,” Harry said.
“They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher’s”
“He was mentioned before, wasn't he? Back in the second book,” Harry said.
“I do think so,” Cedric said, picking up that book and flipping through it. He found what he was looking for in the third chapter of the book. “Yeah, here it is: 'And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned …'It's when Mr. Weasley was first introduced in the books, and is talking about what happened that day of work.”
“Well, if he's the type to try and hex someone when they have their backs turned, then I don't think that he's a very trustworthy type,” Hermione said.
“put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I’ve got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks.”
Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Harry liked this clock. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very informative. It had nine golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family’s names. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. ‘Home’, ‘school’ and ‘work’ were there, but there was also ‘lost’, ‘hospital’, ‘prison’ and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, ‘mortal peril’.
“That clock sounds extremely useful,” Luna said,
Eight of the hands were currently pointing at the ‘home’ position, but Mr. Weasley’s, which was the longest, was still pointing at ‘work’.
“I think the length depends on the age of the person,” Luna said.
Mrs. Weasley sighed.
“Your father hasn’t had to go into the office at weekends since the days of You-Know-Who,” she said. “They’re working him far too hard.”
“That's true, but with what office he works in...” Cedric said, the last bit to quiet for Hermione to hear. He had the feeling that she wouldn't like what he had to say about that if she heard.
“His dinner’s going to be ruined if he doesn’t come home soon.”
“Well, Father feels he’s got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn’t he?” said Percy.
“And Mr. Weasley doesn't have any mistake to make up for,” Luna said.
“If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first –“
“He didn't really make a public statement, he simply let people know that no one was hurt, the person who summoned the mark seems to have gotten away, and that it wasn't Riddle,” Hermione said. “And he didn't say that to any journalists, either.”
“Don’t you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!” said Mrs. Weasley, flaring up at once.
“Honestly, Percy seems to be distant from his family,” Harry said, frowning. “I mean, to say something like that about his father...”
“Yeah, he really shouldn't have,” Hermione said, frowning. She couldn't help but wonder what Percy would do if it came down to his family or the Ministry should something happen. She hoped that Percy wasn't an idiot and chose his family, especially since the Ministry was kind of corrupted, especially if people like Malfoy was not only allowed to walk around free, but had the ear of the Minister. She had the feeling that, if he did chose the Ministry over his family, he'd come to regret it when the Ministry's actions caught up to it – and she had the feeling that it would.
“If Dad hadn’t said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented,” said Bill,
“Exactly,” Cedric said.
who was playing chess with Ron. “Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good.”
“Now, I doubt that's completely true,” Hermione said. “I'm sure that there are at least one or two people she does. After all, I can't see Fudge putting up with her doing that if she happened to say something bad about him, and I doubt she'd ever write anything but good things about herself as well.”
“Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts curse breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?”
“Somehow, I don't think he should have mentioned that with Mrs. Weasley right there,” Luna said, remembering the fact that the book had mentioned an argument between the two about his hair already.
“Well, it is a bit long, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley gently. “If you’d just let me –“
“No, Mum.”
“I wonder how many times they're going to have that argument,” Cedric said.
Rain lashed against the living-room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4,
“Not surprising, since it is you,” Cedric said.
copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her, Harry and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.
“What are they up to?” Hermione said.
“You mean they're being quiet,” Cedric and Luna said, at the same time as Hermione made her comment.
“Apparently they are,” Harry said to the two before turning to Hermione, “and I don't know what they're doing.”
“What are you two up to?” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.
“Homework,” said Fred vaguely.
“They could be doing that, but I doubt that they are,” Hermione said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re still on holiday,” said Mrs. Weasley.
“And, considering that it's the twins, leaving it to the last minute is probably common of them,” Cedric said.
“Mrs. Weasley might've made them do it earlier that summer in exchange for letting them go to the match,” Luna said.
“That is true,” Cedric said.
“Yeah, we’ve left it a bit late,” said George.
“You’re not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?” said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. “You wouldn’t be thinking of restarting Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?”
“I don't think that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was actually ever stopped to begin with, and that they're probably just waiting to be at Hogwarts to actually redo the forms, considering what Mrs. Weasley did to the ones she found,” Luna said.
“Now, Mum,” said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. “If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel knowing that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?”
“I don't think he should really joke about something like that,” Hermione said, frowning.
Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.
“Oh, your father’s coming!” she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again.
Mr. Weasley’s hand had suddenly spun from ‘work’ to ‘travelling’; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on ‘home’ with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.
“I hope that his day went well,” Harry said.
“Coming, Arthur!” called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room.
A few moments later, Mr. Weasley had come into the warm living room, carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.
“Well, the fat’s really in the fire now,” he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in an armchair near the fire and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shrivelled cauliflower. “Rita Skeeter’s been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she’s found out about poor old Bertha going missing,”
“Lovely,” Cedric said.
“You know, I have to wonder why they even let her into the Ministry to begin with, with what she seems to specialize in writing,” Hermione said.
“That is true, but, somehow, she does have a way of getting news that no one else wants known,” Cedric said.
“Which means that she's probably doing something illegal if she can do that,” Hermione said pointedly. “Unless, of course, no one bothers to look for her to make sure she doesn't get what she wants.”
“so that’ll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago.”
“And yet, we saw how he acted when that happened,” Harry said.
“Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks,” said Percy swiftly.
“Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn’t found out about Winky,” said Mr. Weasley irritably. “There’d be a week’s worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark.”
“Yeah, that wouldn't be good,” Cedric said.
“I thought we were all agreed that that elf,”
“She has a name,” Hermione said crossly.
“while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?” said Percy hotly.
“And Mr. Weasley didn't say that she did,” Harry said. “He said that she had been caught with the wand that conjured the Dark Mark, not that she actually did it.”
“If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!” said Hermione angrily.
“No one would care, Hermione,” Cedric said.
“Now, look here, Hermione!” said Percy. “A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants –“
“Obedience shouldn't come at the cost of a life, though,” Hermione said. “And that's what it might've cost Winky had she actually been told to stay in the tent, which we're positive that she actually wasn't, since she was mostly used like a pawn than anything else. Also, she kind of was more like his slave, since she wasn't paid with money.”
“His slave, you mean!” said Hermione, her voice rising shrilly. “Because he didn’t pay Winky, did he?”
“I wonder how long it'll take for Mrs. Weasley to break up the argument,” Luna said.
“It probably won't take her that long,” Cedric said. “She does have a lot of practice, after all.”
“I think you’d all better go upstairs and check that you’ve packed properly!” said Mrs Weasley, breaking up the argument. “Come on, now, all of you ...”
Harry repacked his Broomstick Servicing Kit, put his Firebolt over his shoulder and went back upstairs with Ron. The rain sounded even louder at the top of the house,
“It makes sense, since it's closer to the roof,” Luna said.
accompanied by loud whistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic. Pigwidgeon began twittering and zooming around his cage again when they entered. The sight of the half-packed trunks seemed to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement.
“Bung him some Owl Treats,” said Ron, throwing a packet across to Harry, “it might shut him up.”
Harry poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of Pigwidgeon’s cage, then turned to his trunk. Hedwig’s cage stood next to it, still empty.
“She's still not back yet,” Harry said, frowning. He didn't really care for how long it was taking for her to get back, as it just made him worried that something might've happened.
“It’s been over a week,” Harry said, looking at Hedwig’s deserted perch. “Ron, you don’t reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?”
“Nah, it would’ve been in the Daily Prophet,” said Ron. “The Ministry would want to show they’d caught someone, wouldn’t they?”
“That is true,” Luna said.
“You know, I have to wonder if, since Black is free, if the Minister is probably blaming him for the riot or not,” Cedric said. “I mean, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if he was being blamed.”
“Wouldn't surprise me either, now that I think about it,” Hermione said.
“Yeah, I suppose ...”
“Look, here’s the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley. And she’s got some gold out of your vault for you ...”
“You know, you probably should have made sure that there was a set amount of what she could get from your vault,” Cedric said. “It's not smart to just let anyone go into your vault. You can, of course, let it be known that you want so much taken from it, but you shouldn't just let someone chose how much to take from it without your knowing. While I know that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't take advantage of you, others wouldn't have a problem doing so.”
“and she’s washed all your socks.”
He heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry’s camp bed and dropped the money bag and a load of socks next to it. Harry started unwrapping the shopping. Apart from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, by Miranda Goshawk, he had a handful of new quills, a dozen rolls of parchment and refills for his potion-making kit – he had been running low on spine of lion-fish and essence of belladonna.
“I wonder if she just did that as a 'just in case' thing, or if you mentioned that you needed some refills,” Luna said.
He was just piling underwear into his cauldron when Ron made a loud noise of disgust behind him.
“What is that supposed to be?”
He was holding up something that looked to Harry like a long, maroon velvet dress. It had a mouldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs.
“Lovely,” Cedric said.
“I think that Mrs. Weasley gave Ron Ginny's new dress,” Hermione said.
“I don't think that's true,” Cedric said. “In fact, it sounds like dress robes, very old fashion dress robes.”
“Dress robes?” Hermione asked.
“Special occasion robes,” Cedric said. “They're the kind of robes one wears to weddings and formal parties.”
There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes.
“Here you are,” she said, sorting them into two. “Now, mind you pack them properly so they don’t crease.”
“Mum, you’ve given me Ginny’s new dress,” said Ron, holding it out to her.
“Of course I haven’t,” said Mrs. Weasley. “That’s for you. Dress robes.”
“What?” said Ron, looking horror-struck.
“Yeah, I think anyone would be if they head that the dress was for them,” Cedric said.
“Dress robes!” repeated Mrs. Weasley. “It says on your school list that you’re supposed to have dress robes this year ... robes for formal occasions.”
“I wonder what's going on that requires them this year,” Luna said.
“Probably whatever it is that Percy, Bagman, and Mr. Crouch were talking about earlier,” Cedric said. “You know, what Mr. Crouch kept Bagman from telling you guys.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Ron in disbelief. “I’m not wearing that, no way.”
“Everyone wears them, Ron!” said Mrs. Weasley crossly. “They’re all like that!”
“That's not true,” Cedric said.
“Your father’s got some for smart parties!”
“I’ll go starkers before I put that on,” said Ron stubbornly.
“Hopefully that doesn't happen,” Cedric said. “I don't think people want to see him that way, after all.”
“I know I don't,” Hermione said.
“Don’t be so silly,” said Mrs. Weasley, “you’ve got to have dress robes, they’re on your list! I got some for Harry, too ... show him, Harry ...”
In some trepidation,
“After seeing those, it makes sense that I'm a bit wary,” Harry said.
Harry opened the last parcel on his camp bed. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected, however; his dress robes didn’t have any lace on them at all; in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.
“So, they're just a pair of school robes dyed a different colour then,” Harry said.
“Ron's were second-hand,” Cedric said. “That's probably why his are so bad.”
“I thought they’d bring out the colour of your eyes, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley fondly.
“I do believe that they will,” Luna said, looking at Harry and imagining him wearing them.
“Well, they’re OK!” said Ron angrily, looking at Harry’s robes. “Why couldn’t I have some like that?”
“Because ... well, I had to get yours second-hand, and there wasn’t a lot of choice!” said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.
“And she's too proud to have thought about asking if I would be willing to pay for a good pair for him,” Harry said. “I would, too.”
Harry looked away. He would willingly have split all the money in his Gringotts vault with the Weasleys, but he knew they would never take it.
“They don't let go of their pride before a fall, basically,” Hermione said. “That's not a good thing.”
“I’m never wearing them,” Ron was saying stubbornly. “Never.”
“He will. No matter how much he argues against doing so, he will eventually do it,” Luna said.
“Fine,” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “Go naked. And Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh.”
“I'm not doing that,” Harry said. “That would just be weird.”
She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.
“Why is everything I own rubbish?” said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pigwidgeon’s beak.
“Because your mother's way to proud to willing take charity,” Hermione said.
“That's the end of the chapter,” Luna said, handing the book over to Harry.