Right Now Could Last Forever

I heard the door open and close, and saw Ron and Harry walking towards us. I quickly turned back to Bill and Charlie as a loud crashing noise sounded through the air. Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other’s out of the air.

Fred and George were cheering; Ginny laughing and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety. I leant against Fred’s knees, while he, George and I sat down on the grass.

Bill’s table caught Charlie’s with a huge bang, and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and we all looked up to see Percy’s head poking out of a window on the second floor.

“Will you keep it down?” he bellowed.

“Sorry, Perce,” said Bill, grinning. “How’re the cauldron bottoms coming on?”

“Very badly,” said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut again. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg, and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.

By seven o’clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs Weasley’s excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and I were settling ourselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. I listened to others conversations as I helped myself to chicken-and-ham pie, potatoes and some salad.

At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.

“I’ve told Mr Crouch that I’ll have it ready by Tuesday,” he said pompously. “That’s a it sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he’ll be grateful I’ve done it in good time. I mean, it’s extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangement for the World Cup. We’re just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman –“

“I like Ludo,” said Mr Weasley mildly. “He was the one who got us all such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favour; his brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble – a lawnmower with unnatural powers – I smoothed the whole thing over.”

“Oh, Bagman’s likeable enough, of course,” said Percy dismissively, “but how he ever got to be Head of Department... when I compare him to Mr Crouch! I can’t see Mr Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what’s happened to them. You realise Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?”

“Yes, I was asking Ludo about that,” said Mr Weasley, frowning. “He says Bertha’s got lost plenty of times before now – though I must say, if it was someone in my department, I’d be worried...”

“Oh, Bertha’s hopeless, all right,” said Percy. “I hear she’s been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she’s worth... but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr Crouch has been taking a personal interest – she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr Crouch was quite fond of her – but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However,” Percy heaved an impressive sigh, and took a deep swig of elderflower wine, “we’ve got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Co-operation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we’ve got another big event to organise after the World Cup.”

He cleared his throat significantly and looked down towards the end of the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were sitting. “You know the one I’m talking about, Father.” He raised his voice slightly. “The top-secret one.”

I rolled my eyes and muttered to Harry and Hermione, “He’s been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition on thick-bottomed cauldrons.”
In the middle of the table, Mrs Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.

“... with a horrible great fang on it, really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?”

“Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure,” said Bill patiently.

“And your hair’s getting silly, dear,” said Mrs Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. “I wish you’d let me give it a trim...”

“I like it,” said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. “You’re so old-fashioned, Mum. Anwyay, it’s nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore’s...”

Next to Mrs Weasley, Fred, George and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup.

“It’s got to be Ireland,” said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. “They flattened Peru in the semi-finals.”

“Bulgaria have got Viktor Krum, though,” I said, joining their conversation.

“Krum’s one decent player, Ireland have got seven,” said Charlie shortly. “I wish England had got through, though. That was embarrassing, that was.”

“What happened?” said Harry eagerly.

“Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten,” said Charlie gloomily. “Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland were slaughtered by Luxembourg.”

Mr Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before we had our pudding (home-made strawberry ice-cream), and by the time we had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. I was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as I watched several gnomes sprinting through the rose bushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks, Hermione’s cat.

Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, than he said very quietly, “So – have you heard from Sirius lately?”

“Yeah,” said Harry softly, “twice. He sounds OK. I wrote to him the day before yesterday. He might write back while I’m here.”

“Look at the time,” Mrs Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. “You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you, you’ll be up at the crack of down to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I’ll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I’m getting everyone else’s. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went for five days last time.”

“Wow – hope it does this time!” said Harry enthusiastically.

“Well, I certainly don’t,” said Percy sanctimoniously. “I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days.”

“Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?” said Fred.

“That was a sample of fertiliser from Norway!” said Percy, going very red in the face. “It was nothing personal!”

“It was,” Fred whispered over me to Harry, as we got up from the table. “We sent it.”

---

I felt as though I had barely lain down to sleep in my bed when I was being shaken awake by Mrs Weasley.

“Time to go, Corey dear,” she whispered, before moving out of the room, going upstairs to wake the boys.

I rolled out of bed and staggered over to my dresser; pulling out jeans, a shirt and a hoodie. I pulled them on, only half paying attention as I ran a brush through my hair. My eyes half closed, I stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. I really wasn’t a morning person.

Mrs Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as I entered and smiled, before turning back to the tickets.

I stumbled over to the table and sat down, letting my head drop onto my arms. There was a sound of footsteps, and I sat up absentmindedly, yawning widely.

Harry, Ron, Fred and George came walking in, dragging their feet sleepily. As they walked in Mr Weasley looked up again, and this time, spread his arms so that we could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing jumper and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

“What d’you think?” he asked anxiously. “We’re supposed to go incognito – do I look like a Muggle, Harry? Corey?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling, “very good.”

“Where’re Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?” said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.
“Well, they’re Apparating, aren’t they?” said Mrs Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. “So they can have a bit of a lie-in.”

I knew that Apparating was very difficult; it meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another.
\
“So they’re still in bed?” said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge towards him. “Why can’t we Apparate, too?”

“Because you’re not of age and you haven’t got your test,” snapped Mrs Weasley. “And where have those girls got to?”

She bustled out of the kitchen and we heard her climbing the stairs.

“You have to pass a test to Apparate?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” said Mr Weasley, tucking the tickets safetly into the back pocket of his jeans. “The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a licence. It’s not easy, Apparition, and when it’s not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I’m talking about went and splinched themselves.”
Everyone around the table except Harry winched.

“Er – splinched?” said Harry.

“They left half of themselves behind,” said Mr Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. “So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn’t move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they’d left behind....”
“Were they OK?” Harry asked, startled.

“Oh yes,” said Mr Weasley matter-of-factly. “But they got a heavy fine, and I don’t think they’ll be trying it again in a hurry. You don’t mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don’t bother with it. Prefer brooms – slower, but safer.”

“But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?”

“Charlie had to take the test twice,” said Fred, grinning. “He failed first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?”

“Yes, well, he passed the second time,” said Mrs Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

“Percy only passed two weeks ago,” said George. “He’s been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can.”

There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” said Mr Weasley.

“Walk?” said Harry, while I let out a long moan and placed my head onto my arms again. “What, are we walking to the World Cup?”

“No, no, that’s miles away,” said Mr Weasley, smiling. “We only need to walk a short way. It’s just that it’s very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup –“

“George!” said Mrs Weasley sharply, making us all jump.

“What?” said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

“What is that in your pocket?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at George’s pocket and said “Accio!”

Several small, brightly coloured objects zoomed out of George’s pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs Weasley’s outstretched hand.

“We told you to destroy them!” said MRs Weasley furiously, holding up the Ton-Tongue Toffees. “We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!”

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs Weasley managed to get them all.

“Accio! Accio! Accio!” she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George’s jacket and the turn-ups of Fred’s jeans.

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred shouted at his mother, as she threw the toffees away.

“Oh, a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieked. “no wonder you didn’t get an more O.W.Ls!”