Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

dear,’ said Mrs Weasley fondly.
    ‘Well, they’re OK!’ said Ron angrily, looking at Harry’s robes. ‘Why couldn’t I have some like that?’
    ‘Because … well, I had to get yours second-hand, and there wasn’t a lot of choice!’ said Mrs Weasley, flushing.
    Harry looked away. He would willingly have split all the money in his Gringotts vault with the Weasleys, but he knew they would never take it.
    ‘I’m never wearing them,’ Ron was saying stubbornly. ‘Never.’
    ‘Fine,’ snapped Mrs Weasley. ‘Go naked. And Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh.’
    She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.
    ‘Why is everything I own rubbish?’ said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pigwidgeon’s beak.

 
     
— CHAPTER ELEVEN —
     
Aboard the Hogwarts Express
    There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Harry awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as he got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.
    He, Ron, Fred and George had just reached the first-floor landing on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.
    ‘Arthur!’ she called up the staircase, ‘Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!’
    Harry flattened himself against the wall as Mr Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front, and hurtled out of sight. When Harry and the others entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs Weasley rummaging anxiously in the dresser drawers – ‘I’ve got a quill here somewhere!’ – and Mr Weasley bending over the fire, talking to –
    Harry shut his eyes hard and opened them again to make sure that they were working properly.
    Amos Diggory’s head was sitting in the middle of the flames 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 Diggory’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