Harry could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.
“I’d better hurry — you have a good term, boys,” said Mr. Weasley to Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. “Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King’s Cross?”
“Of course I will,” she said. “You just look after Mad-Eye, we’ll be fine.”
As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.
“Did someone say Mad-Eye?” Bill asked. “What’s he been up to now?”
“He says someone tried to break into his house last night,” said Mrs. Weasley.
“Mad-Eye Moody?” said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. “Isn’t he that nutter —”
“Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody,” said Mrs. Weasley sternly.
“Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn’t he?” said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. “Birds of a feather . . .”
“Moody was a great wizard in his time,” said Bill.
“He’s an old friend of Dumbledore’s, isn’t he?” said Charlie.
“Dumbledore’s not what you’d call normal, though, is he?” said Fred. “I mean, I know he’s a genius and everything . . .”
“Who is Mad-Eye?” asked Harry.
“He’s retired, used to work at the Ministry,” said Charlie. “I met him once when Dad took me in to work with him. He was an Auror — one of the best . . . a Dark wizard catcher,” he added, seeing Harry’s blank look. “Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though . . . the families of people he caught, mainly . . . and I heard he’s been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere.”
Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King’s Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.
“I just can’t justify taking more time off at the moment,” he told them. “Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me.”
“Yeah, you know what, Percy?” said George seriously. “I reckon he’ll know your name soon.”
Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London.
“Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us,” Mrs. Weasley whispered to Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. “But there weren’t any to spare. . . . Oh dear, they don’t look happy, do they?”
Harry didn’t like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred’s trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man’s leg.
The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that they were jammed in the back of the taxis with their trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. They were very relieved to get out at King’s Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and they got soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station.
Harry was used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it . . . and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.
The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.
“I might be seeing you all sooner than you think,” said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.
“Why?” said Fred keenly.
“You’ll see,” said Charlie. “Just don’t tell Percy I mentioned it . . . it’s ‘classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,’ after all.”
“Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year,” said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.
“Why?” said George impatiently.
“You’re going to have an interesting year,” said Bill, his eyes twinkling. “I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it. . . .”
“A bit of what?” said Ron.
But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.
“Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley,” said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.
“Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry.
“Oh it was my pleasure, dears,” said Mrs. Weasley. “I’d invite you for Christmas, but . . . well, I expect you’re all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with . . . one thing and another.”
“Mum!” said Ron irritably. “What d’you three know that we don’t?”
“You’ll find out this evening, I expect,” said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. “It’s going to be very exciting — mind you, I’m very glad they’ve changed the rules —”