Chapter 63: Chapter 63
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Chapter 38– Summer Fun.
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Harry was having what was most definitely the best Summer of his life. Even if it did start off with him being stuck with his aunt and uncle, being completely isolated from his friends by a crazy elf and then ultimately being locked into his room, newly fit with prison bars. How could this be the best Summer he had ever had if that was how it started? That is because Ron had come with his brothers Fred and George to get him, in a flying car, of all things. A Ford Anglia, Fred or George had said.
They flew to Number 4 Privet Drive in the dead of night and pried the bars from his room, and took him away from there. To the Burrow, with the rest of Ron's family. As is to be expected, Mrs Weasley was not in the least bit pleased with her sons. Thankfully, she hadn't held it against Harry and had even allowed him to stay for the rest of the Summer.
Living in a magical household was truly unique. Hogwarts was, of course, brilliant, but there was a different pleasure to be taken in, living with magic around you and having it be normal. The Burrow was something Harry could never have thought up. Starting from the outside, it looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read THE BuRRow. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.
The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle. The clock on the wall opposite had only one hand and no numbers at all. Things like Time to make tea, Time to Feed the Chickens, and You're Late were written around the edge. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts - It's Magic!
The garden was large and, in Harry's eyes, exactly what a garden should be. The Dursleys wouldn't have liked it - there were plenty of weeds and the grass needed cutting, but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants Harry had never seen spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs. And then there were the Gnomes all over the place.
Small and leathery looking, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato. Pests that had to be gotten rid of. Mrs Weasley called it degnoming the garden. Harry had wanted to help, never having done it before. Harry had to hold it at arm's length as it kicked out at him with its horny little feet; he grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down. Raised the gnome above his head and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. He let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge. At first, Harry was shocked that this was degnoming, but according to Ron, it didn't hurt them. It was just to make them really dizzy, so they couldn't find their way back to the gnome holes.
Once out of the kitchen, you go down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house. Five slights up was a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it saying RONALD'S ROOM. When Harry stepped in, his head almost touched the sloping ceiling. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling.
Then Harry realised that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically. The Chudley Cannons, Ron's favourite Quidditch team. This was where Harry had slept for the rest of the Summer. Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle.
The entire Summer, Ron's magic wand was left lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat grey rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun. A pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards were permanently in the middle of the floor. And when you looked out of the tiny window, you could see the field far below where a gang of gnomes could usually be seen sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys' hedge.
Harry knew this was the best house he'd ever been in. Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece, and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal.
What Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like him. Mrs Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr Weasley wanted Harry to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.
Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. "Letters from school," said Mr Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry - doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pyjamas.
For a few minutes, there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.
[ SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart.
All Books by Gilderoy Lockhart must be the new versions for students being sold at Flourish and Blotts. Older versions are not acceptable. ]
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's. "You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch." At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive. The man must be loaded." Fred continued where his brother had left off. "He even started selling his own broom. The Firebolt. Apparently, it is the fastest thing on the market, blowing the new Nimbus 2001 out of the water."
"What? Really?" Harry couldn't help but question astonished that his own broom was suddenly not the best. It wasn't even the latest model any more, and there was an even better broom out. Whenever Harry had his Nimbus underneath him, he felt like he was the fastest in the world and that nothing could touch him. To hear that there were now two brooms that could suddenly made his safe place in the sky not so safe anymore.
"Yeah! You probably didn't know about it because it was released at the beginning of Summer, and you were stuck with those horrible muggles." Ron said, already starting to munch on his breakfast. It was hard to make out Ron's mumbles while he shovelled down his food, but Harry had gotten his practice in whilst at Hogwarts and understood him perfectly.
"But I thought Gilderoy Lockhart was a magical adventurer. Does he make brooms as well?" Harry asked, amazed. He had heard about Lockhart the year before whilst getting his wand at Ollivanders. In fact, his wand had been free for him as well as the rest of the first years as it was sponsored by Lockhart. However, Harry hadn't heard anything about the man since.
"Well, Harry, Gilderoy Lockhart is an amazing man and wizard. You wouldn't know because you have never had the chance to read his books, but he is a great and powerful wizard. We had the good grace to actually meet him last year, and he was everything you could expect." Mrs Weasley cut in excitedly. Her face blushed red as she talked.
"And we would recommend you not to read his books, Harrykins. They are pretty boring for the most part, aside from the few fights. The girls seem to love 'em, though, so maybe give it a proper read when you're older. It will help you in that department." Fred said, jostling Harry by the shoulders.
"What?" Harry cleverly responded, unsure what was being discussed now. The other twin opened his mouth, but a cough from Mrs Weasley stopped him short.
"Nevermind that. Those brooms, though, now that is something Lockhart has made that I can really get behind. " George says, though Harry suspects that was not what he originally meant to say.
"Are they good?" Harry can't help but ask. Harry loved Quidditch and flying in general. At Primary School, he was always picked last, and nobody really included him, but Quidditch was a sport he was great at, and everybody cheered him on. It is like Hermione had said; it was in his blood.
"Good? They are bloody terrific. Which makes it a darn shame that they are so expensive and limited. I would sell George if it meant I could have one." Fred yells out an oi in response to his brother, and Mrs Wealsey berates the boy for what he said.
"Why- Why are they limited?" Harry feels his ears burn red and ducks his head down a little after he finishes speaking. He can't help but feel a bit dumb, asking another question about something he doesn't know.
"Because they are the best brooms on the market. And they are expensive to make and use rare materials. Lockhart himself said that they could only produce so many this year and that supplies will continue to be limited, so it is basically first come, first served. Lockhart may look like a ponce, but he knows what he is doing, especially since he used the Harpies." Harry doesn't even have to ask a question this time as the twins continue talking.
"The Holyhead Harpies. It was the beginning of Summer, and we had gone to see the Quidditch game since they were facing off against the Chudley Cannons. The Harpies came zooming out, and hardly anybody could see them. They crushed Chudley, and when we finally saw them at the end, they showcased the brooms they were riding. The Firebolt. And then Lockhart showed up in the middle of the pitch and made his speech." Fred or George said, Harry had lost track by this point.
"The man knows what he is doing. He came out of nowhere with a broom and marketed it to the entirety of the British Wizarding World. He knew everybody would be watching because the Holywood Harpies is an all-female Quidditch team. In fact, the only one in the entire wizarding world, I think. So even people from other countries were watching because they are total ba-" Mrs Weasley coughs here, and the twin stutters. "- baa- riliant professional Quidditch players." He finished, sweating.
"Nice one. I think you pulled it off." The other twin stage whispers, only to receive a punch to the shoulder from his other half. It looked like the beginning of a long argument, Harry would know, having already seen a few of them in this large family. Thankfully, this time it had been stopped because just then, Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.
"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day." He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a moulting, grey feather duster - at least, that was what Harry thought it was until he saw that it was breathing.
"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys." He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again, so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud.
"Dear Ron, and Harry, if you're there, I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried, and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off." Here he took a pause to breathe before starting again.
"I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'- How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation! - and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione." Ron finished, placing the letter down on the table.
"Well, that fits in nicely. We can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs Weasley, starting to clear the table. Harry could already feel the excitement brewing inside, both to see his friend again and to visit the magical shopping district again.
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[GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today from 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m. ]
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!" Harry had met up with Hermione and Ron after a magical mishap that ended with him finding himself stuck in Knocktrun Alley. Thankfully, he was rescued by Hagrid and brought to his friends. And then they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw, to their surprise, a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows, which Hermione herself just exclaimed at.
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs Weasley's age. A harrassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies. Don't push there. Mind the books, now." Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr and Mrs Granger.
"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute." It seemed like the world stopped for a second as everything went silent, the first to break it being Mrs Weasley, who uncharacteristically let loose a holler.
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by dancing lights and moving little sculptures. Harry thought they were cool, but it was only when it was screamed out by an excitable fan that he found out that the mini statues were playing out parts of the book and all of them were Gilderoy Lockhart fighting against monsters. The screams were piercing.
The real Lockhart was wearing dark robes that seemed to absorb all of the light around him, providing an excellent contrast to his shining wavy blonde hair. A dashing smile was on his face, and his teeth were so white that they were almost blinding, the flash of cameras strobing off of them.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around, taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash. "Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet -" He was very rude.
"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it. Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron, and then he saw Harry. He stared, pondering. And then he elegantly stood up from his chair, the wooden furniture scraping against the ground and causing the entire store to go silent.
"It seems we have another hero within our midst. Harry Potter. Come on up, son."
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