THE BURROW
“And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened
expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for
him.
At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, red-
headed figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen,
gave a small squeal, and ran out again.
“Ginny,” said Ron in an undertone to Harry. “My sister. She’s
been talking about you all summer.”
“Yeah, she’ll be wanting your autograph, Harry,” Fred said with
a grin, but he caught his mother’s eye and bent his face over his
plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all four
plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.
“Blimey, I’m tired,” yawned Fred, setting down his knife and
fork at last. “I think I’ll go to bed and —”
“You will not,” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “It’s your own fault
you’ve been up all night. You’re going to de-gnome the garden for
me; they’re getting completely out of hand again —”
“Oh, Mum —”
“And you two,” she said, glaring at Ron and Fred. “You can go
up to bed, dear,” she added to Harry. “You didn’t ask them to fly
that wretched car —”
But Harry, who felt wide awake, said quickly, “I’ll help Ron. I’ve
never seen a de-gnoming —”
“That’s very sweet of you, dear, but it’s dull work,” said Mrs.
Weasley. “Now, let’s see what Lockhart’s got to say on the
subject —”
And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece.
George groaned.
“Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —”
35