𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 - Harry Potter x Fem!Reader¹

7.. MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY

Mr. Weasley woke them after only a few hours 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. They walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because they were so exhausted, and thinking longingly of their breakfast. As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh! Molly! Molly! It's them — they're here! Look, Molly, look!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them with Mrs. Potter in the front yard, came running toward them as soon as Mrs. Potter pointed them out, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

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

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Y/N saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"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 — you're strangling us —"

"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.

Mrs. Potter, who soon snapped out of her stupor, threw herself similarly into Mr. Potter's arms, wrapping him in a fierce hug. He stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but quickly pulled her close, murmuring reassurances into her ear.

"You're all okay," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I couldn't stop thinking about what might've happened. When Molly and I saw the paper—" She broke off, her green eyes glistening as she pulled back to look at him, her hands framing his face. "You scared me half to death, James Potter."

James smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We're fine, love. I promise. All in one piece."

Her gaze shifted to Harry and Jonathan, and she rushed to embrace them both at once. Harry, though startled, leaned into the hug, while Jonathan squirmed half-heartedly before giving in. She whispered a few things to them that Y/N wasn't able to hear.

Mr. Potter slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders, pulling her close again. "See? We survived, just like always. You should give me some credit, Evans."