Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar [Book 6]

6) I Meet an Old Friend, and It's Freaking Awesome

We all looked back at the grandfather clock. It had never told time, as most clocks do, but the Weasleys were never like most families. This clock told location, announcing with a picture on each of the nine hands where each Weasley was. The fact that it wasn't in the living room anymore told me that Mrs. Weasley had began carrying it around with her.

Every single hand was now pointing toward mortal peril. My personal favorite location.

"It's been like that for a while now," Mrs. Weasley's voice wobbled, "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal peril now... I don't think it can be just our family... but I don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!" She pointed enthusiastically at the clock's surface; Mr. Weasley's hand had moved from mortal peril to traveling. "He's coming!"

Sure enough, hardly a moment later there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Weasley hurried over to it, one hand held on the doorknob, face pressed against the wood. She called, "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said wearily. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly..."

"Molly!"

"All right, all right... what is your dearest ambition."

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

Mrs. Weasley went to turn the doorknob, but it stayed firmly shut, probably because Mr. Weasley had his hand on it. "Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."

"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?

Mrs. Weasley had turned a bright red. I turned to Harry, shocked, and saw that his ears had darkened just as her cheeks had. I couldn't decide if this were the most amazing or horrible thing to happen to me. I was imaging some real kinky stuff, but if the answer was 'mommy' I would just die right then and there.

"Mollywobbles," Mrs. Weasley whispered, horrified. I slumped, realizing that 'alone together' hadn't meant sex, and that Mrs. Weasley just had a rather endearing nickname that certainly wasn't as embarrassing as she thought it was.

"Correct," Mr. Weasley said. "Now you can let me in."

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home." Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the cheeks, helped her husband out of his traveling cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

"I think a Death Eater would just break in," I mumbled to Harry, who nodded around a spoonful of soup.

"I know, dear," Arthur answered with a sigh, "but it's Ministry procedure and I have to set an example. Something smells good — onion soup?" Mr. Weasley turned toward the table, then started. "Oh, Harry! Percy! We didn't expect you two until morning!"

Harry shook hands with Mr. Weasley, but when it was my turn, he pulled me into a rather tight hug, and I had to remind myself there was a lot of expectation for my death in this war.

Mr. Weasley plopped heavily into his seat, smiling at the bowl that was quickly set out before him. "Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred-thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"

"And what really happens when you put them on?" Molly asked.

"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentacle-like warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"