We arrived at the Dursley's a little after they had left. The Order had promised the three protection. Now the only job that remained: getting Harry to the Weasley's.
That was our job.
Wrenching open the back door, Harry hurtled into their midst. There was a general cry of greeting as Hermione flung her arms around him, Ron clapped him on the back, and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"
"Definitely," said Harry, beaming around at them all. "But I wasn't expecting this many of you!"
"Change of plan," growled Mad-Eye, who was holding two enormous, bulging sacks, and whose magical eye was spinning from darkening sky to house to garden with dizzying rapidity. "Let's get undercover before we talk you through it."
Harry led us all back into the kitchen where, laughing and chattering, we settled on chairs, sat ourselves upon Aunt Petunia's gleaming work surfaces, or leaned up against her spotless appliances: Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied back in a long plait; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred and long-haired; Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battle-worn, one-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short hair was her favorite shade of bright pink; Lupin, grayer, more lined; Fleur, slender and beautiful, with her long silvery blonde hair; Kingsley, taller and broad-shouldered; Hagrid, with his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. And finally me, with long sleeves covering my mark and my red hair in no particular style.
I sat next to Fred and George. I had been staying with them all summer. I still worried about Draco everyday, especially because the Death Eaters had asked for any information regarding Harry and I had lied to them. Something I did quite regularly now. But I doubted they'd even listen to me if I told the truth. Snape was their main informer.
"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" Harry called across the room.
"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley. "You're more important."
"Harry, guess what?" said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine, and she wiggled her left hand at him; a ring glittered there.
"You got married?" Harry yelped, looking from her to Lupin.
"I'm sorry you couldn't be there, Harry, it was very quiet."
"That's brilliant, congrat— "
"All right, all right, we'll have time for a cozy catch-up later," roared Moody over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and turned to Harry,
"As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He's made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother's charm does that already. What he's really done is to stop you from getting out of here safely."
"Second problem. You're underage, which means you've still got the Trace on you."
"I don't— "
"The Trace, the Trace!" said Mad-Eye impatiently. "The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters. We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you'll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."
