Amie and The Return (Harry Potter fan-fic) Book 4 COMPLETED

Chaos, dress robes and another visit

Mr. Weasley woke them all up a few hours later. Amie had managed to sleep for a bit, but she was still doozy and very confused. She didn't have another visit from the mysterious person, but she had come to the realisation that the closest she had been to something like that happening in a vision was when she met and spoke to her dead grandmother in second year - but this hadn't felt like that.

After everyone had packed, Mr. Weasley used magic to pack up the tent, and they left the campsite as quick as possible. When they walked past Mr. Roberts standing by his cottage, he looked quite dazed and unfocused. He waved at them confusedly, and said 'Merry Christmas'. Amie felt sorry for him.

"He'll be all right," said Mr. Weasley quietly as they started off over 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."

As they got closer to the Portkey point, they heard many urgent voices. When they got there they found a great number of witches and wizards around Basil, the wizard controlling the Portkeys, all wanting to get out of there immediately. Mr. Weasley had a quick conversation with Basil, they joined the queue, and were finally handed an old rubber tire that took them back to Stoatshead Hill.

It was easier to use a Portkey this time, when she knew what to expect. But Amie still fell down on the ground, and George helped her up. The sun had only just come up, and they started walking down the hill. Since it was downhill, the trip didn't take as long. They didn't talk much due to exhaustion. As they came around the corner, finally seeing the Burrow, they heard an echo of a cry.

"Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had obviously been waiting for them, came running at them from the yard. She was still wearing bedroom slippers, her face was pale and she held a Daily Prophet in her hand.

"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried -"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley, dropping the paper in the process. Amie saw that on the front page was a picture of the dark mark over the forest.

"You're all right," said Mrs. Weasley weakly, letting go of her husband and looking around at them all. Her eyes were red. "You're alive... Oh, boys..."

To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Weasley seized Fred and George and dragged them harshly into a hug. Their heads banged into each other at the same time.

"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to cry. "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 OW.L.s? Oh Fred...George..."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr. Weasley soothed. He took his wife from the twins, and led her to the house. "Bill," he said quietly. "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says..."

When they were all sitting in the kitchen - Mrs. Weasley drinking a cup of tea made by Hermione, that Mr. Weasley put some of Ogden's Old Firewhisky in - Bill handed his father the Prophet. Mr. Weasley looked at the front page, while Percy peeked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," Mr. Weasley said darkly. "Ministry blunders...culprits not apprehended...lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked...national disgrace....Who wrote this? Ah...of course...Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy, fuming. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"