The Fourth Book - Entertainment - http://maxpages.com/gravity/The_4th

Part One: The Quidditch World Cup

Chapter One: The Flight From Number Four

Harry Potter sighed as he stretched out on his bed in the smallest bedroom at number four, Privet drive. He was facing another whole summer with the Dursleys. Mrs. Dursley was the sister of Harry’s mother, but they hadn’t spoken for years even before Lily Potter’s death. And she had died almost thirteen years ago.
Lily and James Potter hadn’t died an ordinary death. They had been murdered. And it hadn’t been an ordinary murder. They had been murdered by one of the most feared dark wizards ever, Lord Voldemort. Lily, James, and even Harry also happened to be magicians.
Voldemort had also tried to kill Harry, but he couldn’t. This was extraordinary. One of the most powerful wizards in the world couldn’t kill a little boy. And that same night, he vanished. His hold on the wizarding world was released. And young Harry Potter escaped with only a lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Harry Potter was now famous.
But all that didn’t matter much in the Muggle (non-magic) world. Actually, the only people who really knew Harry existed there were the Dursleys, and a very small handful of their friends. The Dursleys thought it was a matter of deepest shame to have a wizard in the family, so even the others who knew about Harry knew nothing about his powers.
And so Harry, being hidden in his bedroom because the Dursleys’ son, Dudley, had friends over, had nothing to do except think. It had been one day since he had left his school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and already it felt as thought it had been a year. He missed the secret passageways, the house common rooms, and the great hall that was bewitched to look as though it had no ceiling. But most of all, Harry missed the people. Friendless though he was in the Muggle world, Harry had two best friends at Hogwarts, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Harry sat up. Maybe he’d write to them. He got out a quill and some parchment. Then he stopped.
“No,” he thought, “I’d better write to Sirius, saying I’m OK.”
Sirius Black was Harry’s godfather. Harry had just found out last year. Thirteen years ago, Sirius had been arrested for a horrible crime he didn’t commit, betraying Lily and James Potter to the dark lord. But only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, knew that this was true. So now Sirius was in hiding with Buckbeak, an escaped Hippogriff (an animal that’s half bird, half horse), who had also been committed for a crime that wasn’t his fault. Harry didn’t know where they were. It wasn’t safe to communicate that by owl post.
“Dear Sirius,” he began. But than a large white something outside the window distracted him.
“Hedwig!” he exclaimed as he went to the window to let his owl inside.
“Thank you,” he said as he began to untie a note from around her ankle. Then he sat on the bed and stroked her as he read it.

Dear Harry,

Guess what? You and Hermione can come with me to the Quidditch World Cup! And guess what else? The Chudley Cannons are in it! They played in the semi-finals while we were on the train, and Dad told me first thing at the station! The game’s a few days before your birthday, so you can come and stay over. We would come and pick you up, but Dad’s got to work overtime so he can come with us. Is there a Muggle way to get here? Write me back soon!

Your friend,
Ron

P.S. I sent the owl Sirius gave me to Hermione, he’s such a pleasure. I’ve decided to name him Zeus, what do you think?

As he finished reading, Harry grinned broadly. The summer might not be so bad after all.
Quidditch was the most popular sport in the wizarding world. It was played by seven people on broomsticks with four flying balls. It was extremely fun, but equally dangerous.
Harry played quidditch at Hogwarts for the Gryffindor house team. He played seeker, the most dangerous of all positions. The seeker flies around in search of a walnut sized ball called the golden snitch. Whichever seeker catches the snitch first earns one hundred fifty points for his team. This also marked the end of the game.
The other players were the two beaters, the three chasers, and the keeper. The beaters for Gryffindor were Fred and George Weasley, Ron’s elder twin brothers. Their job was to keep the two bludgers from knocking their teammates off their brooms. The bludgers were black balls whose only purpose was to hit as many players as possible.
The chasers for Gryffindor were Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. They threw around a red ball about the size of a football, trying to get it through one of the three hoops. This ball was called the quaffle.
The keeper’s job is to fly around the goal posts, trying to keep the opposite team from scoring. Oliver Wood had been the keeper for Gryffindor, but had finished Hogwarts last year, leaving an opening on the team.
Harry pushed his letter to Sirius aside, and got out another piece of parchment. At first he thought he’d write to Ron, but he decided he’d better try Hermione first. Hermione had Muggle parents, and there was every possibility she could take him to Ron’s.

Dear Hermione,

Did you get an owl from Ron? I’m so excited! How are you going to get there? Is there any chance you could take me? I’d love to get to know your parents.

Love,
Harry

P.S. Wear orange, that’s our color for the final.

When he had finished, he tied the note to Hedwig’s leg and sent her soaring out again. He flopped onto his bed again. With Hedwig gone, he couldn’t send another letter right now. Just then, he heard the pitter patter of Aunt Petunia’s feet outside his door. Seconds later, he heard her shrill voice.
“Come down for dinner, and hurry up about it. Dudley’s just gone for ice cream, and Piers will be back soon.”
Harry jumped up. In his excitement, he hadn’t noticed that his stomach had been growling for quite some time. Plus, he wanted to finish before Dudley returned with Piers. They were best friends, and there was nothing they loved more than hitting Harry.
So he thudded down the stairs and flopped into a chair. As he ate his bit of salad, bread, and milk, Harry watched Aunt Petunia buzzing around and mopping the kitchen. He didn’t look at all like any of the Dursleys. Dudley and Uncle Vernon were both big, beefy, and purple faced. In fact, the only difference between them was that Dudley was blond, and had five chins instead of one. Not to mention Uncle Vernon’s thick mustache. Aunt Petunia was bony and blond, with a face that looked extremely like to that of a horse.
But Harry was small and skinny, with untidy jet black hair and brilliant green eyes. He was told he looked exactly like his father, with his mother’s eyes.
As soon as Harry had gulped down the last of his milk, his plate was whisked out from under him. He started up the stairs dejectedly. By now his happiness was starting to wear off. He couldn’t wait to go see a professional game of quidditch, but it was still a least two weeks away! Two weeks of the Dursleys.
When he reached his room he began to undress. He figured that the earlier he went to sleep, the less misery he’d have to endure.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he found Hedwig asleep on the other side of his pillow. He didn’t dare risk waking her by untying the note on her ankle. If she hooted once, Uncle Vernon would see to it that she was locked in a cupboard the rest of the summer, just like Harry’s spell books were. So he lay staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep again.

The second time Harry awoke, the sound of bacon being fried downstairs had become audible, and he could even hear the distant rumble of a television. Since everyone else was up, there was no point in delaying any longer. Harry began to slip the message off his owl’s foot.
He needn’t have waited. The nocturnal bird remained fast asleep.
Harry unfolded the note eagerly, and immediately recognized Hermione’s neat hand.

Dear Harry,

I’m so glad you sent me an owl! I’d love to have you come and stay with me for a while. How long would it be for? It doesn’t really matter, I already made Mum and Dad cancel our holiday in Greece so I could go with you and Ron. How about a week before we’re due at Ron’s? That leaves you only a week with those awful Muggles you live with. If you don’t write back, I’ll assume you’re coming.

Lots of love,
Hermione

P.S. Why does it have to be orange? I look dreadful in orange!

Harry read and reread his letter so many times he was still in his night clothes when Aunt Petunia called him down to lunch. He dressed as quickly as he could, but by the time he got downstairs, the soup had lost all the heat it had ever had. He knew there was no point in asking his aunt to heat it up, so he tried to think of next week as he forced down his stone cold meal.
When the soup was gone, Harry went into the next room and squeezed onto the couch between Dudley and Uncle Vernon. They were watching a news report on television. The reporter right now was pointing at various locations on a big map of England.
Since Harry was not really in the mood to watch the weather, he picked himself up again and made his way into the back yard.

It was a perfect day. The sun was shining high in the sky. The flowers were all in bloom and birds everywhere were chirping merrily. Harry’s spirits soared.
He was content just to sit on the garden bench and let the sun beat down on him. The afternoon slowly wore on, and very soon it began to grow chilly. Harry reluctantly trudged back through the house.
By the time he got up to his room, Hedwig had awoken and was hooting loudly for food. Harry dove into his trunk and pulled out the last of the treats he had bought on the train back from Hogwarts. As soon as they had been dumped in a corner of her cage the screeching stopped.
Just then Harry heard the slamming of the front door. He raced across the hall to the window. When he saw what had happened, he burst out laughing. The Dursley car was all crunched up in the front, like another car was in the back. the families were now having a furious fight over expenses.
Harry collected himself. Now was the perfect time to collect his spell books from the cupboard under the stairs where they had been locked up. The Dursleys were suspicious of everything to do with magic, especially Harry combined with it, so they locked up all his things the moment he got home for the summer. But they did have good reason to be afraid. Just last year Harry had blown up his Aunt Marge!
Taking a last peek out the window, Harry began to descend the stairs. When he reached the cupboard, he rummaged through his pockets for a hair pin of Aunt Petunia’s he’d stolen. Then, using a trick he had learned from Fred and George Weasley, he picked the lock.
The door swung open with a loud creak, and Harry cringed. Luckily, no one else had noticed through the shouting. Harry relaxed his shoulders and began collecting his school things. It was all there; his spell books, his robes, even his broom, which happened to be a world standard broom, a Firebolt. He paused momentarily as he picked it up, remembering the wonderful soaring feeling of flight.
Finally everything had been found, and Harry began to heave his trunk up the steps. The going was slow, but Harry kept at it. When he was halfway up the steps, he noticed the shouting had ceased. He tried to quicken his pace. Three steps after, he heard footsteps outside. When he reached the top landing, the doorknob began to turn.
Acting on impulse, Harry threw himself and the trunk around the corner. Uncler Vernon noticed the thud.
“What was that, boy? If you’ve been…”
The voice halted. Harry breathed a sigh of immense relief. Uncle Vernon hadn’t decided to come up and investigate. But then-
“WHAT JUST HAPPENED IN HERE? HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY MY AUTHORITY!? HOW DARE YOU TRY TO FEED YOUR, YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS RESPECTABLE ROOF!? HOW DARE YOU…”
But the rest of his uncle’s shouting was lost on Harry as he realized what he’d done. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have forgotten to close and relock the cupboard door?
Harry realized he’d have to do something fast. This was the maddest he’d ever seen his uncle. Who knew what Uncle Vernon was capable in a mood like this? Murder, probably, he thought to himself.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was nothing else for it. Picking up his Firebolt, he chanted “Featherum, Luchium”.
Instantly, his trunk became feather light. Picking ir up, Harry ran to his room and grabbed Hedwig. Just as Uncle Vernon burst through the door, Harry mounted his broom and shot out the window.
He only looked back once. He saw his uncle goggling up at him. From the next window, he could see the quivering forms of Aunt Petunia and Dudley. He allowed himself a half smile. He vowed never to return to number four of Privet Drive.

After weaving through the clouds aimlessly for about half an hour, Harry landed as indiscreetly as he could. His mind was racing. There would be serious trouble now. He had just broken a law, the Reasonable Restriction for Under-aged Wizardry. None of the Hogwarts students were allowed to use magic outside of school. Of course, this had been a desperate situation. But Harry doubted the Ministry of Magic would let it go with that.
His chest heaving, he tried to form a plan. He could send Hedwig to Sirius with a note, but it was likely his Godfather wouldn’t be able to give help under the circumstances. Three wanted people together would probably not be a great idea.
Maybe Ron could take him in. But Harry thought better of that. Arthur Weasley worked for the Ministry, and he didn’t want to take event the slightest risk.
That left-
“Hermione!” said Harry aloud. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were Muggles, so even if he was outlawed from the wizarding world, there was a chance he could stay with them.
It was getting cold outside and the sky was steadily darkening, so Harry decided he’d give Hedwig a note and follow her to Hermione’s house.
Ten minutes later they were air born again. Harry slowly found himself calming down as the wind rushed through his hair and brushed past his face. He looped and twirled as if chasing the snitch while following his owl. There was no harm in practicing for quidditch if he was going to fly at all.
When his flight had ended, Harry had no idea how long it had been. Coming up from a short dive, he saw Hedwig tapping on the window of a cozy looking light pink house just slightly apart from a town. Seconds later, a bushy brown head appeared. She took a look at Hedwig, then spotted Harry, and gave a small scream.
As Harry landed on the front grass, he realized that it must have been Mrs. Granger at the window. He felt slightly bad. What an entrance he’d made, scaring Hermione’s mother like that. Oh well. He took a deep breath, then advanced to the front door and knocked.
Harry waited. Then, the door slowly opened and Hermione’s face peered around the corner.

Chapter Three: From Knockturn Alley to the Burrow

Harry and Hermione had expected to see the Leaky Cauldron full of evil looking witches and wizards whispering about power and Lord Voldemort. So they were surprised to see the usual customers chatting away gaily about how extremely high in price pumpkin juice was getting, or else about how little Nicki was starting school in the fall.
Harry looked at Hermione, who seemed just as confused as he was. Could they possibly have been wrong? Could… But then his train of thought was interrupted by a loud voice shouting “All righ’, Harry, Hermione?”
They whirled around to see the huge form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, and teacher of care of magical creatures.
“Oh, hi Hagrid!” called Harry as he and Hermione fought to get across the pub to his table. Then the two of them squeezed into the booth across from him.
“How’s Ron?” asked Hagrid, taking a big swig of Gringledon’s Famous Ale.
“We were just going to meet him today,” explained Harry, praying that Hagrid didn’t ask too many questions.
“We’re planning on catching the train from platform eleven and two-thirds at two o’clock,” added Hermione. “We just thought we’d better have some lunch before going to King’s Cross.”
“Well, ya better ‘urry up, then! Tom, ‘ow ‘bout two plates o’ the ‘ouse special?”
Tom, the innkeeper, beamed at Harry, nodded at Hermione and Hagrid, and he headed off to the kitchens.
“All righ’, then,” began Hagrid, but he suddenly stopped as he looked at Hermione. She was staring beyond him.
“Get down,” she hissed at Harry, who quickly ducked under the table. Just then, the cold, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy became audible. Lucius Malfoy was Draco’s father, and the two were very alike.
Harry watched as two pairs of feet moved past their table. Then Hagrid’s hairy face peered under the table cloth at them.
“It’s all righ’, now, ‘e’s gone,” he said.
When Harry and Hermione were completely out from under the table, their eyes met. It was clear what they had to do now. They had to follow Lucius Malfoy.

“Um, Hagrid,” muttered Hermione uncertainly, “it was really nice seeing you here, but, we’ve really got to go now.”
“But yer lunch!” Hagrid called after them.
“It was great!” called Harry. “Thank you!”
“We’ll see you at Hogwarts, then!” Hermione shouted over her shoulder. Then they ran out the door, leaving a very confused Hagrid to finish his drink.

Lucius Malfoy was proving himself very hard to follow. Harry and Hermione had to keep their eyes from blinking, or they’d miss him. And they really didn’t want to do that. Because Lucius was widely known to have been involved with Voldemort during his bid for power. Some said that he had been in You-know-who’s inner circle. Neither Harry, Hermione, nor Ron doubted that.
“Look! There he…”
Harry stopped, panting, and looked at Hermione.
“Well?” he asked. “Did you see him?”
Hermione nodded.
“Where’d he go?” Harry sounded irritated.
“Kn-Knockturn Alley.”
“Then let’s go!” Harry was practically screaming.
“Oh, no, Harry, we can’t!”
“And why not?”
“Oh, Harry, you’ve been there, you know what it’s like! All the dark witched and wizards shop there!”
“Of course! And we’re trying to find out about them, aren’t we? It’s perfect!”
“But the things they sell…”
“We’ll be fine!”
“Everyone knows who you are…”
“So WHAT?”
“They all hate you because of that business with You-know-who! They’ll try to kill you!”
But Harry had had enough. He was determined to find out what was going on, and no one was going to stop him. No one except…
“Mr. Weasley!” shouted Hermione, sounding relieved.
“Hello, Harry, Hermione. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be coming to our house today?”
Harry looked too mad to speak, so Hermione answered.
“Yes, actually. We just wanted to get a bite to eat before our train. It’s at… Oh, Harry! We’re going to miss our train! It’s almost two!”
“Oh, no need to worry,” chuckled Mr. Weasley. “You can come back with me. Would you just mind waiting here for a few minutes while I just dip into Knockturn Alley?”
“Of-of course,” stammered Hermione.
Mr. Weasley smiled at them, then continued on his way.
Harry had ceased to fume at the news that Mr. Weasley was going into Knockturn Alley. He had openly said that it was an evil place for evil witches and wizards.
“Sh-should we follow him?” Hermione was still stuttering with shock.
Harry stood, pondering for a little while before answering. “I don’t think so. I mean, I would feel way too awkward following Ron’s dad. No, even if he’s up to no good, which I seriously doubt, I think I’d prefer not to know.”
“All right, then,” said Hermione. “Shall we do a bit of shopping ourselves? It seems a shame to come here and not.”
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”

So they spent the next half hour looking at brooms, wandering into joke shops, and stuffing themselves with chocolate frogs and cider.
When they returned to Knockturn Alley, they found Mr. Weasley waiting for them. Harry mentally searched his cloak for any signs of a purchase. His eyes met those of Hermione, and they seemed to say the same thing. Mr. Weasley hadn’t bought anything.
“All right, then, all ready to go?”
Harry just nodded dumbly.
“My, you’re enthusiastic today, Harry! What’s the matter?”
Harry forced a smile and replied, “Nothing! Let’s go, I’m dying to see Ron.”
Mr. Weasley smiled and turned to lead them to the train station. Hermione applauded Harry behind his back.
It took the better part of an hour to reach King’s Cross, because theey had to walk with relatively heavy trunks. Harry gulped, embarrassed, when he remembered why. Two years ago, he and Ron had driven Mr. Weasley’s car to Hogwarts, where they had crashed it into a wild tree.
When they finally reached King’s Cross, they had to run in order to catch the next train into Ottery St. Catchpole, which left at three-thirty. Hermione and Harry stopped and looked at Mr. Weasley when they reached the ticket box between platforms eleven and twelve.
“Go on, you two. Take it at a run, then I’ll follow.”
So Harry and Hermione grabbed their things and ran straight into, and then through, the solid barrier. Twenty seconds later, Mr. Weasley tumbled into view, looking as if he’d casually lent upon the ticket box.
On this side of the wall, a bright green train was on the tracks, and many different people were clambering on. Hermione, Harry, and Mr. Weasley joined the back of the queue.
Once on the train, they searched for an empty compartment. They found one towards the back. When their things had been stowed in the compartment overhead, Mr. Weasley looked out the window, and gave a start. He quickly excused himself to Harry and Hermione and almost sprinted outside again.
“What do you suppose that was about?” asked Hermione when he had gone.
“I’m not sure,” replied Harry. “Wait! Hermione, look! It’s Fudge! He’s talking to Mr. Weasley!”
“It is!” exclaimed Hermione. “Oh, no, Harry! What if they’ve finally decided to punish you for using magic in front of your uncle?”
Harry paled. Now that Hermione mentioned it, he noticed that Mr. Weasley’s and Fudge’s eyes seemed to be flashing in his direction quite a lot.
“Do you think we should try to…” began Hermione, but she stopeed as Mr. Weasley appeared in the doorway.
“Listen, I’m sorry, guys, but I have a little last minute business to attend to. Do you still have the directions Ron sent you?”
Hermione dug into her pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper.
“Good. Have a nice trip, and I should be home for dinner.”
“Why do you figure…” pondered Harry as he watched the retreating Mr. Weasley grow smaller and smaller. Just then, there was a low rumble, a loud whistle, and the train began to move.
“Let’s not think about it now,” said Hermione simply. “We’ll have lots of time to discuss it with Ron. It’s been a stressful day. I’m going to sleep. Wake me up when we get there.”
So for the rest of the ride Harry watched the beautiful green country side fly by, while listening to the combination of the chugging of the train and the comparatively gentle snores of Hermione.

A few hours later, Harry found himself shaking Hermione awake in a dark, bustling train station. It took several minutes for her to completely wake up, so they had to rush out in order to make it before the train began to move again.
“All right,” began Hermione once they were outside of the station. “According to these directions, we go left. No, that’s not right. It better be right! Wait, but then we won’t be able to cross here.”
“Harry! Hermione!”
They whirled around to see Ron running towards them, closely followed by Fred and George. Mrs. Weasley and her only daughter, Ginny, were last.
“What took you so long?” asked Ron upon reaching his friends.
“Yeah, we were beginning to think you’d decided to give us the slip!” joked George.
“You stop it, George. How are you, dears?” Mrs. Weasley engulfed Harry and Hermione in her open arms.
“Go on, Ginny, say hi!” Fred pushed his little sister towards Harry.
Ginny had always been shy around Harry, whom she greatly admired.
“Hello,” she mumbled, staring at the floor. Ron pushed her aside.
“We thought we’d surprise you and come pick you up. But what took so long? We’ve been waiting for over an hour!”
“Well,” said Harry, “we were going to miss our train, but then we met your dad. He just told us to get tickets for the next train, so we did.” Harry didn’t want to tell all the Weasleys the full story. He’d have time to tell Ron later.
“Well then, come on, let’s go! My cake will burn if we don’t hurry! And my soup will be cold!” With that, Mrs. Weasley began pushing all her children along.

Chapter Two: The Grangers

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “What, how, why…”
Chuckling at her shocked face, Harry told her the whole thing; how he had left the cupboard door open and facing the wrath of his uncle.
“Oh, Harry, that’s awful! And now you’re going to be expelled!”
Harry stopped smiling. “I know. I’ve been trying not to think about it. But the worst thing is when I think about Malfoy’s face when he hears the news.”
Draco Malfoy was Harry’s enemy at Hogwarts. Whenever Harry got into trouble, Malfoy’s eyes turned into mean little slits, and his mouth put on a foul, simpering smirk.
Hermione shuddered. “There has to be a way to make the Ministry see sense. Why don’t you have a chat with Fudge? He really likes you, and he’s the minister…”
“Hermione, Fudge probably wouldn’t have any say in the matter of my expulsion. Now can we talk about something else? I’m depressed enough as it is.”
“Oh, of course, I’m sorry. Come in and meet my mum and dad.”
“Uh, Hermione? When your mum saw me and Hedwig at the window I think she…”
“Fainted?” asked Hermione simply. “Actually, she was out cold for about a minute, but Dad fixed her up. Don’t worry about her, she’ll still like you.”
Harry smiled and followed Hermione inside. The inside of the house was cozy too. The rooms seemed to e carpeted in the same pinkish color as the exterior. There was a set of carpeted stairs to his right, and a fireplace to his left, which now held a blazing fire. Harry immediately plopped down on a squashy bean bag chair in front of it.
Hermione, however, continued past him to the foot of the stairs.
“Mum, Dad!” she called up to them. “You’ll never believe who just turned up! Harry Potter! Come and meet him!”
Then she waited for the sound of footsteps on the upstairs landing. When she heard them, she went to the fireplace and sat in another bean bag chair across from Harry.

Soon after, Mr. and Mrs. Granger appeared. They beamed down at Harry, who promptly jumped up.
“You must be Harry,” said Mrs. Granger, holding out her hand, which Harry vigorously shook.
“Hermione is always talking about you,” said Mr. Granger. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s very nice to meet you too,” Harry muttered nervously. Since he was hoping to live with the Grangers, he was desperate to make a good impression.
“You must be hungry,” said Mrs. Granger thoughtfully. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll fix something nice and warm for you. Do you like hot cocoa?”
Harry nodded enthusiastically and followed her into the kitchen, suddenly aware of his rumbling stomach. Unlike the other rooms, the kitchen had a white tiled floor. Nearly everything else was white as well, but there was a wooden table in the center of the room. Mr. Granger pulled up a chair and motioned for Harry to sit in it, which he did.
“So, Harry m’dear, what brings you here?” Mr. Granger asked him, pulling up a chair for himself.
Harry swallowed. He didn’t feel much like going over the evening’s events right now. Luckily for him, Hermione saw this and cut in.
“Mum, Dad, would it be all right if I took Harry up to see my room and put his things away first?” She beamed at Harry, who smiled back gratefully.
“Of course, dear, how silly of me,” said Mr. Granger. “I’ll call you when your cocoa’s ready.”

Hermione’s room was rather small, but, all the same, Harry quickly decided he like it more than any room he’d ever had at the Dursleys’. She had a four-poster bed with pink and white lacings all around it. The floor was covered in the same pinkish carpet as he’d noticed in the entrance hall downstairs. To the left of the heavy white door, across from the bed, was a good sized television and a huge set of drawers stood against the right wall.
Hermione, panting from the exertion of heaving Harry’s extremely heavy trunk up the steps (it had been un-bewitched), plopped on a fluffy pink armchair to the right of the bed.
“So,” she said to Harry, “what would you like to do?”
“Personally,” he replied, “I’m about to collapse.”
“Oh yes, of course, you would be,” apologized Hermione. “I’ll leave, and you can get your night clothes on. Maybe I can get Mum to bend the rule and bring some hot chocolate up for you. She usually doesn’t like drinks upstairs.”
When she had gone, Harry began to go through his things. At long last, he found some pajamas. Listening to make sure no one was coming, he slipped them on. A few minutes later, Hermione appeared, clutching two steaming mugs.
The two of them sat on Hermione’s frilly bed laughing, talking, and sipping. The cocoa was so good that their mugs had soon been drained.
“Harry,” said Hermione, “would you mind turning the other way? I’ve got to get ready for bed.”
“Of course.” Harry turned on the bed so he faced the left wall. How nice to live in a family like this, he thought. Everyone was so nice. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione… He would definitely like staying here.
Gradually, he drifted off to sleep.

Harry’s two weeks at the Grangers’ went by all too quickly. He couldn’t wait to see Ron again, of course, but Mr. and Mrs. Granger (who insisted on being called Taylor and Kimberly), were always anxious to help Harry in any way they could. Hermione provided endless ideas on games and activities. So it was with some sadness that Harry reached his last few days there.
But through all his contentment, something had been puzzling Harry during his time there. During dinner on the last night, Harry pulled Hermione aside.
“Hermione,” he said, “something’s been bothering me. I’ve been wondering. Last time I did magic at the Dursleys’, I only got off because everyone though Sirius was after me. The time Dobby the house elf smashed my aunt’s pudding I got an official warning from the Ministry of Magic. Why do you imagin…”
He trailed off as he saw Hermione’s face. She had gone chalk white, and she began to bumble.
“H-Harry,” she managed to stutter, “I haven’t gotten the Daily Prophet once, and I subscribed to it twice.”
Harry didn’t seem impressed. “So?”
“Harry, don’t you see? There could be something terribly wrong in the wizarding world!”
“Hermione, I…” But he stopped in mid-sentence. It was his turn to turn white, but it didn’t stop there. Within five seconds he had gone an unbecoming shade of green. “Hermione,” he whispered urgently, “Professor Trelawny’s prediction during my divination test-what if Scabbers, I mean Pettigrew, already found Voldemort and, and, and he…”
“He’d gained back power!” Hermione was able to finish his sentence for him.
Peter Pettigrew was an animagus (a wizard who could turn into an animal at will). For twelve years, he had hidden from the world as Ron’s rat, Scabbers. He had been a huge supporter of You-know-who.
“We’ve got to go to Ron right now.”
“No!” squeaked Hermione. “We can’t. We’re going to Ron’s house tomorrow. We can’t let my mum and dad think something’s going on, or they won’t let me go there at all! Forget that, they’ll make me leave Hogwarts! They’ve been scared enough about the weird stuff we’ve been through already!”
“All right, all right,” whispered Harry worriedly. “I suppose if it’s been going on all summer they can stand it for one more night.”
“Harry, offered Hermione timidly, “I know you made the dark lord disappear once, and we’ve defeated him at half strength at Hogwarts, but, I’m really not sure three under-aged wizards are going to be much help right now.”
Harry considered this. “You’re right, as usual. But I do wish we could be there with Ron.”
“We will be soon enough.” Hermione smiled as best she could. It was time to put on a happy face and return to dinner.

As it usually happens when one is anxious or dreading the day’s events, Harry and Hermione woke extremely early the next morning. They tip-toed around packing their things, each pretending to the other that they weren’t scared.
Breakfast was probably the longest meal ever, or at least it seemed so to Harry at the time. Taylor and Kimberly Granger prattled on and on about what to say and how to act, do you have this, don’t forget that. The most their daughter and her friend could do was force a smile and nod.
And then, finally, the four of them clambered into the car to get to the train station. They had to drive all the way to London, because Ron hadn’t known ‘Muggle directions’ from anywhere else. Luckily, the traffic was light, and their destination had been reached by lunch.
“Well, Mum and Dad,” said Hermione when they had parked outside a book shop and a record store. “Thanks for driving us. I’ll see you soon.”
The Grangers kissed both Harry and Hermione, and then hopped back into their car and were gone.
“All right, then,” said Hermione once they had disappeared from sight. “Let’s get some food before we catch our train.”
They looked around, then walked into a small, grubby looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron. The funny thing about the Leaky Cauldron was that no one else on the street seemed to notice it. Perhaps it was just that it looked too grubby to serve good food, or maybe, it was magic.

Despite all their resting on the train, Harry and Hermione were very tired, so they were glad that the walk to the Weasley home, ‘The Burrow’, was short. When they arrived, Mrs. Weasley insisted that Fred and george haul all the luggage up. After rushing to look after her cooking, of course.
“So did Arthur say he’d be back for dinner, dears?” inquired Mrs. Weasley, as the bustled about serving everyone soup.
“He said probably,” answered Hermione.
As she spoke, the door knob turned, and what seemed like a very distracted Mr. Weasley appeared in the doorway.
“Well, speak of the wolf and you’ll see its tail!’ exclaimed his wife, shuffling towards him. Then she grabbed him around the waist and pulled him towards the table.
“Where are your manners, Arthur Weasley? Don’t you see our guests? The least you could do is say hello to them!”
“Hello Harry, Hermione. I suppose your trip was OK?”
“Yes, thank you,” answered Harry between gulps.
“Good, good. Molly dear, I’m really not that hungry. Would it be all right if I just went upstairs to get some rest?”
“Arthur! We have guests tonight!”
“It’s really all right, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione cut in. “Harry and I will be here for long enough to see him plenty of times. I think it’s been a long day for everyone.”
“Well, if you’re sure, dear,” replied Mrs. Weasley uncertainly.
“In that case, good night, everyone. I’ll see you in the morning!” And with that, Mr. Weasley trudged up the stairs.

Halfway through dinner that night, there was a strange pounding noise. It seemed to be coming from upstairs.
“What is that insufferable noise?” demanded Mrs. Weasley irritably. “Fred, George, would you run up and see?”
Five minutes later, the twins reappeared, looking confused.
“Dad’s nailing down Ron’s window, Mum,” reported Fred.
“Said he felt a draft,” added George. He shrugged. “I didn’t feel anything, though. How ‘bout you, Fred?”
“Na. Were you having any problems Ron?”
“No, not really. That’s strange.”

Soon the nailing stopped, and dinner was finished in relative peace. Mrs. Wesley kept them all at the table for what seemed like hours to Harry and Hermione, for they were dying to talk to Ron about their discoveries. Harry kept shooting meaningful glances at Ron, hoping he’d catch on. Finally, he did.
“Mum, I think Harry and Hermione must be tired. Could I take them up to my room to get into their night clothes?”
“Of course, dear. No, Hermione, don’t worry about the plates. I’ll have Fred, George, and Ginny clear them for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Good night, everyone!” said Hermione.
“Dinner was wonderful,” said Harry. “See you in the morning!”
Then he and Hermione followed Ron upstairs to the very top floor to his room. Once they were there, Harry wasted no time.
“Ron, we’ve got to talk to you. Has anything weird been happening lately?”
“No,” said Ron confusedly. “Why should there be?”
“Well,” said Harry, “I did some serious magic my second day back in front of my aunt and uncle, and the Ministry didn’t send me so much as a note.”
“And,” added Hermione, “I subscribed to the Daily Prophet twice, and I haven’t gotten a single issue!”
“So we figured there had to be something that was completely distracting the entire Ministry,” finished Harry.
Ron looked at them dumbly.
“Well,” he said after a long pause, “nothing really strange at all has been happening. At least not that I’ve noticed. Dad’s seemed king of distant and not himself the past few days, though. Might be ‘cause there’s been a lot of trouble in his department, though. Besides, Harry, don’t you think things would be a lot worse if Pettigrew found Voldemort already? I know that’s what you were thinking. You were in Diagon Alley today and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s unhappy there! If you want to be expelled, write to Snape, he’d be only too happy to oblige. And I can help you keep up with the wizarding world easily enough if you want me to, Hermione. So why worry? We’d better get to sleep now, though. I want to be wide awake for the quidditch final tomorrow. We have to get up nice and early, because we need to catch the train to Romania. That’s where they’re having it this year, isn’t that great? You two can meet Charlie!”
“The quidditch final!” exclaimed Harry, slapping himself on the forehead. “How could I possibly have forgotten?”
Ron shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Well, come on then,” pushed Hermione. “Let’s get ready for bed!”

Chapter Four:The Quidditch Final

The next day, the sun shone brightly over the Burrow, causing the sweet chirping of many unseen birds. Harry and Hermione were shaken awake by Ron, who was already dressed and had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.
“What’s happened?” asked Hermione groggily.
“Honestly, you two!” snapped Ron. “How can you sleep on a day like this? Aren’t you the least bit excited?”
“Oh yes, of course, quidditch!” cried Harry as he jerked awake and jumped out of bed. Hermione followed suit.

“It’ll be so good to finally see a real professional quidditch match!” called Hermione from the bathroom a few minutes later. “I expect it’ll have some good educational value,” she added as she emerge, brushing her bushy brown hair.
Harry groaned.
“If you talk about the educational aspects of quidditch just once during the day, I swear I’ll have Charlie feed you to the dragons,” warned Ron.
Charlie was the second eldest Weasley child, and he worked at studying dragons in Romania. Harry and Hermione had helped send a dragon to him, but had never met him in person.
“All right, all right,” grumbled Hermione. “I just thought that…”
But just what she thought, Harry and Ron never found out, for she was then interrupted by a shout from Mrs. Weasley.
“Are you ready, you three? If you’re not down for breakfast in five minutes, we’ll all miss our train! No, Fred. No fireworks today. All right, then, but only the orange ones.”
“Hurry up!” hissed Ron.

Five minutes later, all the six Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were gathered round the table in the kitchen, hastily devouring Mrs. Weasley’s toast. Looking around while taking a large swig of milk, Harry finally realized why everything seemed so different from the last time he’d been there.
“Where’s Percy?” he asked.
Percy was Ron’s third to oldest brother. Very ambitious, but rather like a goody-goody and a know it all, he had graduated from Hogwarts just last year.
“Oh, he’s off applying for a job in the Ministry,” replied George, setting down his knife, which was covered in marmalade.
“What, you haven’t noticed the lack of Percyness yet?” inquired Ron, grinning.
That earned him a reproving glare from Mrs. Weasley. “Once he’s been gone for a little longer, I’m sure you’ll miss him.”
Fred snorted. “Ah,” he said with a sigh. “The last head boy in the family. Unless…” he suddenly turned to Ron, pretending to look threatening. Ron pretended to vomit into his bowl at the thought. Ginny giggled. Hermione looked rather hurt.
“I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing,” she said.
Mr. Weasley glanced up at the clock, then pushed out his chair and stood. “Everyone ready to go? Oh good heavens, Molly dear, don’t worry about the dishes now!”
Ron jumped up. “Come on you guys!” he called to Harry and Hermione while running up the steps. “We’ve got to bring our stuff! And I have billions of orange flags, and you can both borrow some of my orange jumpers…”
So Harry and Hermione got up and followed him, Hermione muttering something about dark hair clashing with orange.

Even though Harry was really excited about seeing the match, he couldn’t help not wanting the train ride to end. Fred and George were showing Harry and Hermione all the different explosives they had snuck past their mother. They included orange bursts, some that made booing sounds, and others that cheered. A small bunch even erupted tomatoes.
Ron entertained them by prattling on about statistics, and how certain players did this much better than others, while some excelled at that. His speeches included many insults towards the opposite team, the Greenwitch Greeners.
Even Ginny would once in a while open her mouth to peep about how good their seats were. Apparently, they were in the top row, which was ideal. Sitting at the bottom meant you needed binoculars to see clearly.
Just as Harry was finishing the last of the pumpkin juice Mrs. Weasley had gotten him, the train began to slow to a stop.
“All right!” screamed Ron, jumping up and almost running off the train. The remaining Weasleys and Harry and Hermione followed him.
Sun was flooding into the station, giving it a cheery effect. Witches and wizards everywhere were chatting happily about the prospect of a good quidditch match. Green and orange accessories were everywhere.
“Mum! Dad! Ron!” Harry whirled around to see a kindly face of a young man waving madly at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were vainly trying to catch up with Ron.
Harry stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then, his hand was grabbed by George and he felt himself being pulled through the crowd.

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