𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐆𝐎𝐅 𝟕

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, and he waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"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 him 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, all clamoring 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 tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.

They walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward 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 and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"
Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, aside by Remus, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-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 QUID- DITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and- white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"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.

"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.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . . I'm sorry Ethan," And she hugged Ethan before letting Remus speak to his children.

Both Emily and Ethan could tell their father had been crying, but there was also a sternness in his gaze — a weight they had never seen before.

"You two could've died," he said, his voice trembling slightly as he lowered it so only they could hear. "Me and... your father and brother have been worried sick! Ethan, it was reckless of you to follow her, but... smart, too, because you got to your sister. And Emily, you need to learn to control your powers. I can't lose either of you. The only way I can make sure of that is if you put yourself first when it counts — control your abilities, think ahead!"

His voice carried now, echoing across the space, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

Ethan pulled back slightly, anger and frustration flashing across his face. "And what if that person is you? Or Dad? Or Eric? Or Emily again? You want me to just sit back and watch her get hurt?"

"It depends on the situation!" Remus shot back. "Ethan, I understand all your life you've had to look after her because I wasn't... in the right mindset. But now I am. It's my job to protect both of you!" He reached for Ethan's arm, his plea clear.