When two letters arrive in the post for the Potters inviting them to a school for wizards Pippa is beyond excited. She was ready to start fresh somewhere new where she could actually be someone, where she could be special.
However, Hogwarts was not...
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Mrs. Weasley was waiting for us in the kitchen. She stood there with her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. Mrs. Weasley wore a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of her pocket.
"So," she said.
"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice.
"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper.
"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to--"
All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered at her rage.
"Beds empty! No note! Car gone - could have crashed - out of my mind with worry - did you care? - never, as long as I've lived- you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy -"
"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.
"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest and I couldn't help but smirk. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job--"
It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on me and Harry, who backed away.
"I'm very pleased to see you, dears," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."
She turned and walked back into the house and I dragged Harry after her.
The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and I practically collapsed into my seat. The lack of sleep hit me like a bus.
The clock on the wall opposite me had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts - It's Magic!
I fiddled with the sleeve of my jumper– I hated adults. They made me feel sick, they made my skin itch.
Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know what you were thinking of," and " never would have believed it."
"I don't blame you, dears," she assured me when she noticed me shift in my seat uncomfortably. She tipped most of the sausages onto mine and Harry's plates. "Arthur and I have been worried about you both. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if one of you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," adding fried eggs to our plates. "flying an illegal car halfway across the country - anyone could have seen you--"
She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.
