Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

red-haired, was Ron’s younger sister, Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet – she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to The Burrow.
    ‘Tell me what , Arthur?’ Mrs Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.
    ‘It’s nothing, Molly,’ mumbled Mr Weasley, ‘Fred and George just – but I’ve had words with them –’
    ‘What have they done this time?’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘If it’s got anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes –’
    ‘Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, Ron?’ said Hermione from the doorway.
    ‘He knows where he’s sleeping,’ said Ron. ‘In my room, he slept there last –’
    ‘We can all go,’ said Hermione, pointedly.
    ‘Oh,’ said Ron, cottoning on. ‘Right.’
    ‘Yeah, we’ll come, too,’ said George –
    ‘You stay where you are!’ snarled Mrs Weasley.
    Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen, and they, Hermione and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zig-zagged through the house to the upper storeys.
    ‘What are Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes ?’ Harry asked, as they climbed.
    Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione didn’t.
    ‘Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George’s room,’ said Ron quietly. ‘Great long price-lists for stuff they’ve invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they’d been inventing all that …’
    ‘We’ve been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things,’ said Ginny, ‘we thought they just liked the noise.’
    ‘Only, most of the stuff – well, all of it, really – was a bit dangerous,’ said Ron, ‘and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burnt all the order forms … she’s furious at them anyway. They didn’t get as many O.W.Ls as she expected.’
    O.W.Ls were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the examinations Hogwarts students took at the age of fifteen.
    ‘And then there was this big row,’ Ginny said, ‘because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke-shop.’
    Just then, a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.
    ‘Hi, Percy,’ said Harry.
    ‘Oh, hello, Harry,’ said Percy. ‘I was wondering who was making all the noise. I’m trying to work in here, you know – I’ve got a report to finish for the office – and it’s rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs.’
    ‘We’re not thundering ,’ said Ron irritably. ‘We’re walking. Sorry if we’ve disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic.’
    ‘What are you working on?’ said Harry.
    ‘A report for the Department of International Magical Co-operation,’ said Percy smugly. ‘We’re trying to standardise cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin – leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three per cent a year –’
    ‘That’ll change the world, that report will,’ said Ron. ‘Front page of the Daily Prophet , I expect, cauldron leaks.’
    Percy went slightly pink.
    ‘You might sneer, Ron,’ he said heatedly, ‘but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products which seriously endanger –’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, all right,’ said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. Percy slammed his bedroom door shut. As Harry, Hermione and Ginny followed Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr Weasley had told Mrs Weasley about the toffees.
    The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had done the last time that Harry had come to stay; the same posters of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fishtank on the window-sill which had previously held frog-spawn now contained one extremely large frog. Ron’s old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but instead there was the tiny grey owl that had delivered Ron’s letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping up and