Up against her spotless appliances; Ron, long and lanky; Hermione, her bushy hair tied

Back in a long plait; Fred and George, grinning identically; Bill, badly scarred and longhaired;

Mr. Weasley, kind-faced, balding, his spectacles a little awry; Mad-Eye, battleworn,

One-legged, his bright blue magical eye whizzing in its socket; Tonks, whose short

Hair was her favorite shade of bright pink; Lupin, grayer, more lined; Fleur, slender and

Beautiful, with her long silvery blonde hair; Kingsley, bald and broad-shouldered; Hagrid,

With his wild hair and beard, standing hunchbacked to avoid hitting his head on the

Ceiling; and Mundungus Fletcher, small, dirty, and hangdog, with his droopy beady

hound’s eyes and matted hair. Harry’s heart seemed to expand and glow at the sight: He

Felt incredibly fond of all of them, even Mundungus, whom he had tried to strangle the

Last time they had met.

“Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?” he

Called across the room.

“He can get along without me for one night,” said Kingsley, “You’re more

important.”

“Harry, guess what?” said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine,

And she wiggled her left hand at him; a ring glistened there.

“You got married?” Harry yelped, looking from her to Lupin.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be there, Harry, it was very quiet.”

“That’s brilliant, congrat –“

“All right, all right, we’ll have time for a cozy catch-up later,” roared Moody over

The hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Moody dropped his sacks at his feet and

turned to Harry. “As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius

Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He’s made it an imprisonable

Offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or

Out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you.

Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother’s charm does that already. What he’s really

done is to stop you getting out of here safely.”

“Second problem: You’re underage, which means you’ve still got the Trace on

you.”

“I don’t –“

“The Trace, the Trace!” said Mad-Eye impatiently. “The charm that detects

Magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage

magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is

going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters.”

“We can’t wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen

you’ll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short, Pius Thicknesse thinks he’s

got you cornered good and proper.”

Harry could not help but agree with the unknown Thicknesse.

“So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace

can’t detect, because we don’t need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and

Hagrid’s motorbike.”

Harry could see flaws in this plan; however, he held his tongue to give Mad-Eye

The chance to address them.

“Now, your mother’s charm will only break under two conditions: when you

come of age, or” – Moody gestured around the pristine kitchen – “you no longer call this

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 788