TOM WOKE HARRY THE NEXT MORNING WITH HIS USUAL TOOTHLESS GRIN AND A CUP OF TEA. Harry got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.
"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy."
"I've got something to tell you," Harry began, but were interrupted by Fred and George, who had looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.
They headed down to breakfast, where Mr Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.
At that moment, Alena had walked into the room, with Arlo perched atop her shoulder.
"What were you saying?" Ron asked as they sat down.
"Later," Harry muttered, not taking his eyes off Alena as he stood up and walked over to her, flirting for the nine-hundredth time that week.
The next second, Percy stormed in.
Alena had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; they were too busy hearing all their trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig, Arlo, and Hermes, Percy's screeching owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.
"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."
"You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"
He pointed at his chest, where a large lump indicated that Scabbers was curled up in his pocket.
Mr Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry care, stuck his head inside.
