20 The Burrow (1/2)
It was early morning when a young boy with pitch black hair and obsidian eyes exited the house.
The house was anything but normal. It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic. Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.
The boy grabbed some chicken feed and threw it at the chickens. He glance towards the sky with a gaze full of pity.
”Mrs Weasley will kill you guys. Hope you can survive her wrath...”
After school had ended, Arth asked his friends if they had a place he could stay. Harry said no because his aunt and uncle would never allow it, Hermione was a growing girl so Arth refused, so that left Ron.
He was given a Bill's old room, which was quite nice, to sleep in and helped Mrs. Weasley do chores whenever possible as repayment. he would even entertain Ginny, the younger sister of Ron.
Today, Fred, George And Ron had gone off to fetch Harry because they noticed something wrong. Harry hadn't been answering to any of their letters which was highly suspicious because Harry would never not respond to a letter, it was his only connection to people like him, wizards.
So Ron and the twins thought it would be a fantastic idea to go fetch Harry on a flying car, and leave Arth as a sentry. His role was to make sure that Mrs. Weasley did not find out about them leaving.
He was starting to get used to Ron's thirst for excitement and adventures.
The terrifying part was that the moment the boy's left the house, Mrs. Weasley came stomping up the stairs with a frying pan and questioned Arth thoroughly. Arth pretended that he had no clue and only just woke up, to which Mrs. Weasley let our a warm smile to.
She then ran off holding a frying pan muttering about killing.
It was the first time Arth realized that a frying pan could be so threatening.
Arth heard the sound of a car engine and turned his face to the sky. The sky was a dark blue color and a tiny bit of yellow was starting to show up in the horizon. In the middle of the sky was a flying Ford Angela.
They had returned, in fact, Arth was able to make out their conversation.
”Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly,” said Fred, ”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.”
”I don't think that will work, people don't just appear in other peoples bedrooms.”
The four of them jumped.
”Arth, I thought you were on guard, why are you here... oh no don't tell me.”
”Yep,” answered Arth with a sigh, ”you three are officially screwed.”
Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house.
”Here she comes.”
They wheeled around.
Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind- faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.
”Ah, ”said Fred.
”Oh, dear,” said George.
Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.
”So,” she said.
”Morning, Mum,” said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.
”Have you any idea how worried I've been?” said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper.
”Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —”
All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.
”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,” muttered Fred.
Arth winced, he could almost visibly see the game over screen appear in front of him.
”YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. ”You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —”
It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away.
”I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. ”Come in and have some breakfast. Arth, if you've finished feeding the chickens, you can come in have breakfast too.”
”Thank you ma'am.”
She turned and walked back into the house and they followed her like obedient children.
The kitchen was small and rather cramped.
Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like ”don't know what you were thinking of,” and ”never would have believed it.”
”I don't blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine 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 —”
She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.
”It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred.
”You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.
”They were starving him, Mum!” said George.
At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again.
”Ginny,” said Ron in an undertone to Harry. ”My sister. She's been talking about you all summer.”
”She really wanted to meet you. She told me while we were talking about school,” said Arth while wolfing down the sausage.