Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

26. aboard the hogwarts express.

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Antheia awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as she got dressed in jeans and a sweater; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione and Ginny appeared to be asleep and as there was still time before they would have to leave for King's Cross, she decided to not wake them.

When she exited the room and entered the kitchen, she saw Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was looking harassed.

"Arthur!" she called up the staircase, "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

As Antheia peeked out from the wall she was behind, she saw Amos Diggory's head from the middle of the fireplace like a large bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.

"... Muggle neighbours heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there -"

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.

"- it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head, "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur -"

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes.

Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says they were creeping towards the house, but they were ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up -"

Mr. Weasley groaned. "And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggpry's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard at the dead of night? More likely there's a very shellshocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it - think of his record - we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department - what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.

Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything ... but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night ..."

"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

"Oh, go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.

Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.