The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry and I sat down on the edge of our seats, looking around. We had never beenin a wizard house before.The clock on the wall opposite us had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. 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! And unless my ears were deceiving me, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was"Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast  a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like"don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it.""I don't blame you, dears," she assured Harry and me, tipping eight or nine sausages onto our plates. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really" (she was now adding three fried eggs to harry's plate), "flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —"She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background."It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred."You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped."They were starving them, Mum!" said George. "And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting my bread and buttering it for me.

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded 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 and me. "My sister. She's been talking about you both all summer.""Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, " 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 five 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, dears," she added to Harry and me. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car —"But Harry and I, who felt wide awake, I said quickly, "we'll help Ron. we'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 —" I looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-looking wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who I supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him."Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests,all right, it's a wonderful book. . . ." "Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper."Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart,you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it." Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry behind them. 

"Been meaning to give this to you" George said as he and Fred let Harry and Ron go on in front of us. He rummaged in his pocket and gave me a pin, like those ones to put on your bag or apron. It was Silver and Aqua with the Words 'APPRENTICE;" in an overlapping font and in smaller letters just below it, 'to the greatest pranksters who ever lived'  I laughed out loud, "I love it!" I say stuffing it in my pocket making a mental note to put in on my Hogwarts satchel.

The garden was large, and in my 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 and I had never seen spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs."Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know," I told Ron as we crossed the lawn."Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron,bent double with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods. . . ."There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered,and Ron straightened up. "This is a gnome," he said grimly. "Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.It was certainly nothing like Santa Claus. It was small and leathery looking, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato.Ron held 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."This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnomeabove his head ("Gerroff me!") and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on my face, Ron added, "It doesn't hurt them — you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnome holes."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."Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."Harry and I learned quickly not to feel too sorry for the gnomes. Harry decided just to drop the first one he caught over the hedge, but the gnome, sensing weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into Harry's finger and he had a hard job shaking it off — until —"Wow, Harry — that must've been fifty feet. . . ."

The air was soon thick with flying gnomes."See, they're not too bright," said George, seizing five or six gnomes at once. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay put."Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched."They'll be back," said Ron as we watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here. . . . Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny. . . ."   

Just then, the front door slammed."He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!" We hurried through the garden and back into the house.Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses offand his eyes closed. He was a thin man, going bald, but the littlehair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing longgreen robes, which were dusty and travel-worn."What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they allsat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old MundungusFletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned. . . ."  Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed."Find anything, Dad?" said Fred eagerly."All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle,"yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff thatwasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness. . . ." 

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" saidGeorge."Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key thatkeeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when theyneed it. . . . Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because noMuggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insistthey just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face. . . . But the thingsour lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe —""LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword.Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.

Ooooh, he's gonna get it.

"C-cars, Molly, dear?" 

"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wantedto do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really hewas enchanting it to make it fly."Mr. Weasley blinked."Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within thelaw to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done betterto, um, tell his wife the truth. . . . There's a loophole in the law,you'll find. . . . As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the factthat the car could fly wouldn't —" 

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when youwrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry ontinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for yourinformation, Harry and Emma arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!""Harry and Emma?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry and Emma who?"He looked around, saw Harry and me, and jumped."Good lord, is it Harry and Emma Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron'stold us so much about —" 

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!"shouted Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got to say about that, eh?""Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right?I — I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes,"that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed. . . .""Let's leave them to it," Ron muttered to Harry and me as Mrs. Weasleyswelled like a bullfrog. "Come on, I'll show you my bedroom."They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passagewayto an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up. "You'll be with Ginny" Ron told me, "that's her room, she'll be nervous though." "See you then." I said. I knocked and a pair of light brown eyes peeked out, "O-oh" muttered Ginny Weasly, "Hi!" I say with a smile, she seemed to relax after that, maybe the smile. "I hope you don't mind it's a bit small," she said as I crossed the sunlit room, and to a camp bed. I grinned at her. "This is the best house I have ever been in."

Ginny blushed.