Juliet Diggory (HPFF/ HPLS) SLOW UPDATES

Chapter 61

*Juliet's p.o.v*

Mr Weasley woke us after only a few hours sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and we 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 us off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"Will he be alright?" I asked quietly. Mr Weasley looked at me with a sad smile.

"He'll be all right," He as we 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."

"Juls, you okay?" A voice said from beside me, I turned to my left and saw Harry. I nodded a smiled, I was in my own world. I couldn't stop picturing them poor muggles in the air. I felt a hand touch mine, it was Harry's. I sighed and shook my head and began to walk faster. I can't let this keep on happening.

"Juliet? What's the matter, you look really pale and tired" I sighed, and turned to George.

"I'm fine!" I snapped and walked off again. I don't know what's come over me, I just miss Siri and Remus. I'm worried about Sirius, where is he? I haven't got a letter for about two weeks, Remus I haven't heard from either and everything is just getting on top of me.

I heard urgent voices as we all approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we 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; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.

We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole in silence then up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light. As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs Weasley, whom I'm guessing had been waiting for us 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 - 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, I 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 OW.L.s? Oh Fred...George..."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr Weasley said 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..."

We all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.