(2) The New Ones// The Curse Of Slytherin

5/ Gnomes

We get into the familiar kitchen. The radio was on still, WNN this time and I wriggled out of Erin's embrace, compulsively shutting it off.

Mrs. Weasley started angrily making breakfast, picking up her wand and directing one soapy frying pan out of the sink, nearly hitting Ron in the head.

"Do move Ronald," she chaisted Ron, directing the frying pan with her wand.

"Move?! Rubbish!" Ron muttered angrily under his breath. I elbowed him hard in the side and he inhaled quickly.

"You could've died!" She muttered angrily. "Been seen! And now your father is facing an inquiry at work thanks to you!" She prodded Fred in the chest. She looked over all of us harshly. "Of course I'm don't blame you, Harry dear." She said fondly, taking a slight break from her rant. She dished up the breakfast on some newly washed plates with renewed anger, not trying to conceal her angry muttering.

I stood a bit back from the breakfast making process, just behind Erin's shoulder. Getting Harry was worth it, way worth it, yet I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. We were their guests, and had already managed to get in trouble. Mom would murder us if she ever got wind of this.

"Sit everyone," Mrs. Weasley ordered, placing all the plates down. The twins went straight for their food, cramming it into their mouths like they

"It was cloudy mum," Fred said, mouth full.

"Keep your mouth closed while eating!" She snapped back. I didn't touch my food, stomach too unsettled. The nervous feeling wouldn't go away, I kept feeling like we were going to be hexed by Mrs. Weasley any minute.

"But they were starving him mum!" George kept up the argument.

"Shush!" Mrs. Weasley commanded, however she gave Harry a soft smile, layering extra good on his plate despite the fact that he hadn't even finished his eggs yet. Erin snorted at the look on his face, elbowing me in the side. I kicked her in the shin under the table, trying to get the message across that she better behave.

At that moment, Ginny Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, wearing a nightgown, her flaming red hair brushed down her back. She opened her mouth as if trying to say something, however her eyes landed on Harry before she even got a syllable out. She let out a high pitched squeal and darted back up the stairs. This time Erin didn't even try to conceal her snort.

"Ginny," I heard Ron mutter to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer mate."

"Yeah she'll be wanting your autograph mate." Fred said across the table. Ron grinned at me however Mrs. Weasley shot Fred a look, causing the conversation to start.

I held back a yawn. I had gotten up early and all I wanted to do now was make up for my lost sleep by taking a nap.

"Blimey I'm tired," George said, setting his fork down and leaning back.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "I think I'll go to bed-"

"You will do no such thing!" Mrs. Weasley cut him off. "It's your own fault you are so tired, you Ron and the girls," she gestured to Erin and me. "Will de-gnome the garden, it's getting awful out of hand." I looked down, making no noise as the Weasley boys all made sounds of disapproval.

"Whats a de-gnoming?" Harry asked me curiously.

"An inconvenience." Erin frowned. I elbowed her to be quiet.

"It's hard to explain," I told him.

"Up you get. Let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject."

"Mummmm," Ron groaned. I tried to keep my own groan in. "We know how to de-gnome a garden!"

"Alright!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Well you do it better than Lockhart or you'll be sorry." Inside I groaned. Gilderoy Lockhart. I had to see his face everywhere at the shop, his books sold tremendously well, as well as whenever he came in to do a book signing. The man was vain as a peacock.

"Can I come?" Harry asked as Mrs. Weasley set the book back on the shelf.

"De-gnoming is dull work dear," Mrs. Weasley said, gazing longingly one more time at the book. "I'll show you to bed, you must be tired."

"No really." Harry protested. "Can I come?"

"If you insist," Mrs. Weasley said. "No off you get!"

Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Erin, Harry and I behind them.

The gardenwas large, there were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting — but there were gnarled trees allaround the walls, plants spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pondfull of frogs. Mum would've hated the unorganized feel of it, but the garden had its own crazy charm.

"Just watch," I said to Harry as George bent down, grabbing what looked like the first gnome.

"I've seen a gnome before!" Harry said eagerly as George struggled with the gnome. Erin scoffed.

"You mean those things muggles think are gnomes?"

"Oh yeah," Ron chimed in. "Those fat little Santa Claus things they keep in their yard. Those aren't gnomes."

"That," I pointed at George's hand. "is a gnome.

Gnomes are small and leathery looking things, they have large, knobby,bald heads and resemble potatoes in a way. My gran who lives in the country in Ireland often has gnomes, Erin and I have to help get them out of her small garden. George held it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its hornylittle feet; he grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down.

The look on Harry's face was priceless as George raised the gnome above his head ("Gerroff me!" it screamed and wriggled) andstarted to swing it in great circles like a lasso.

"It doesn't hurt them," I reassured Harry.

"Yeah, you just have to make sure the little blighters are too dizzy so they can't come back." Fred said as George let go. The gnome flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in thefield over the hedge.

"Pitiful." Erin scoffed. "I bet I can get one fifty,"

"You can't," I point out. "But maybe I could."

"Oh it's on!" She grinned.

Soon the air was full of flying gnomes, Harry had finally managed to get the hang of it, after one gnome sensed his lack of skills and gave him a nasty bite.

"Beat that!" I crowed as my gnome went flying, almost out of sight. Fred whistled in appreciation and Ron clapped.

"I can beat it," Erin grouched.

"No you can't." I grinned.

"Elaine you have dirt on your nose," Ron pointed out. I shrugged.

"It's fine. Besides, we've got to get this done!"

Soon the gnomes had been banished from the garden, the ones that had avoided getting thrown were retreating in a line through the hedge bush.

"They'll be back," Ron said. "They love it here and dad's soft with them, thinks they're funny..."

A door slammed from what seemed like the other side of the yard.

"Dad's home!" George whooped.