Daughter of a Criminal

Mayhem at The Ministry

Mr. Weasley woke them after only a few hours of 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. 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, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. "Arthur â€" I've been so worried â€" so worried â€"" She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, "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 â€" you're strangling us â€""
"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 . . ."
"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. . . ." When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea with Anns help, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.
Time Skip
"All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?" Harry asked
"Yeah . . . think I will too," said Ron at once. "Hermione, Ann?"
"Yes," they both said quickly, and the four of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
"What's up, Harry?" said Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them.
"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again." Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck.
"But â€" he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean â€" last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"
"I mean if he was-" Ann began looking even more terrified than Hermoine even.
"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him . . . him and Peter â€" you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill . . . someone." He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying "me," but couldn't bring himself to make Ann look any more horrified than she already did.
"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."
"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it? . . . My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."
"Don't â€" say â€" his â€" name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.
"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?" Ann's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.
"Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?" Hermoine asked.
"Yeah I mean really, she said Buckbeak would die, and well.." Ann said chuckling
"You weren't there," said Harry. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance â€" a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again . . . greater and more terrible than ever before . . . and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him . . . and that night Wormtail escaped." There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.
"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"
"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."
"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"
"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.
"He will respond just not quickly, he never responds quickly to my letters," said Ann reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry,
"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry," said Ron. "Come on â€" three on three, Bill and Ann and Fred and George will play. . . . You can try out the Wronski Feint. . . ."
"Sounds good to me" said Ann who was an amazing Chaser in Harry's opinion
"Ron, Ann," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now. . . . He's worried, and he's tired. . . . We all need to go to bed. . . ."
"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Nimbus."
"I'll grab my Firebolt," said Ann, going after Hermione who had left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like "These guys."
"Hey you sure you don't wanna come watch?" Ann asked Hermoine before she headed out
"Fine" said Hermoine and the two left. The match was very fun. Even if Ron kept getting nervous and looking over at Hermione to see if she was impressed with his flying. Something Ann made sure to tease him about when Hermoine and Harry weren't around.
Time Skip
Rain lashed against the living room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her, Ann, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Nimbus 200, the broomstick servicing kit Ann had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Ann and Ron were in an intense game of wizards chess. And Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.
"What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.
"Homework," said Fred vaguely.
"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.
"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"
"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?" Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again. Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling"; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on "home" with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen. "Coming, Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room. A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.
"Well, the fat's really in the fire now," he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in an armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor old Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."
"Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks," said Percy swiftly.
"Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky," said Mr. Weasley irritably. "There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."
"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley,. "Come on now, all of you. . . ." Harry repacked his broomstick servicing kit, put his Nimbus 2000 over his shoulder, and went back upstairs with Ron. Ann headed up with Hermoine and Ginny. Ann packed her things making sure to pack her pink dress robes for the fourth year carefully so they wouldn't tear.