Chapter Text
"THEY'RE LATE!"
Harry was just as mad as his uncle at that fact, if only because it was causing him to stay with his relatives this much longer. He looked up at the clock with a sigh. "Maybe they're caught in..."
Could he even say traffic? How exactly were the Weasley's going to pick him up, anyway? He prayed they hadn't somehow found that old flying car...
Ten past five...then a quarter past five...Harry was starting to feel anxious himself now. At half past, he heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia conversing in terse mutters in the living room.
"No consideration at all."
"We might've had an engagement."
"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."
"Well, they most certainly won't be," said Uncle Vernon, and Harry heard him stand up and start pacing the living room. "They'll take the boy and go, there'll be no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tin-pot car that's broken d -AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"
Harry jumped up. From the other side of the living room door came the sounds of the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. Next moment Dudley came flying into the hall, looking terrified.
"What happened?" said Harry. "What's the matter?"
But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks; he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen. Harry hurried into the living room.
Loud bangings and scrapings were coming from behind the Dursleys' boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it.
"What is it?" gasped Aunt Petunia, who had backed into the wall and was staring, terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Vernon?"
But they were left in doubt barely a second longer as voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.
"Ouch! Ow-Fred, no! Go back! Go tell George and Freya that somethings wrong!"
"Maybe Harry can hear us, dad! Maybe he'll let us out!"
Banging ensued from inside the blocked chimney.
"Harry! Harry, can you hear us?!"
The Dursleys rounded on Harry like a pack of wolverines.
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!" roared Uncle Vernon, despite the fact Harry was standing right in front of him.
Harry didn't even feel all that angry about it, still trying to fight the mad desire he had to laugh. "They...they used floo powder. They can't get in because you've blocked the chimney."
Harry approached the chimney, still fighting for a straight face. "Can you hear me, Mr. Weasley?"
The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the chimney-piece said, "Shh!"
"Mr. Weasley, it's Harry...the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there."
"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley's voice. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"
"They have an electric fire."
"Really?" Mr. Weasley's voice rose an octave in excitement, "Eletricticy, right? With plugs and bacheries? Gracious, I have to see that, it sounds-Ouch! Freya!"
Harry's heart lifted as Freya's voices joined into the throw. "Bloody hell? What are we doing in the chimney still?"
"Oh, you didn't hear Freya? We're having a party."
"You know what, Fred-'
"Children! Stop you're arguing and go back to warn George that-"
Three 'OWS' ensued and Harry guessed that it was too late for the warning.
"What's happening?"
"Oh, you know, Fred threw a stupid chimney party and didn't invite you."
"You know what, Freya-"
"Children, children..." said Mr. Weasley vaguely. "I'm trying to think what to do....Yes...only way...Stand back, Harry."
Harry retreated to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward.
"Wait a moment!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to -"
BANG.
The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Freya in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to the last freckle.
"That's better," panted Mr. Weasley, brushing dust from his long green robes and straightening his glasses. "Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!"
Tall, thin, and balding, he moved toward Uncle Vernon, his hand outstretched, but Uncle Vernon backed away several paces, dragging Aunt Petunia. Words utterly failed Uncle Vernon. His best suit was covered in white dust, which had settled in his hair and mustache and made him look as though he had just aged thirty years.
"Er - yes - sorry about that," said Mr. Weasley, lowering his hand and looking over his shoulder at the blasted fireplace. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."
In the middle of Vernons gasping sputtering, Harry beamed as the twins and Freya stood up.
His smile dropped as he blinked, looking at Freya as she looked at him with a familiarly comical indignant rage, but with a slightly less familiar face.
She'd changed a bit again, huh? he thought feeling a bit funny.
"Um," he glanced down and then back up. "Sorry that they blocked the chimney."
Freya's eyes twitched and the feeling went away slightly when she turned to the Dursleys to speak, and he heard the eleven-year girl he first met again.
"Do you mad people want to keep your hearts so cold that you'd do something as atrocious as block a fireplace?"
"EXCUSE ME?" Petunia gasped as Harry covered a laugh and Fred and George let out identical chortles.
"Freyaaa." Mr. Weasley hissed.
"It's fine," Freya glanced at her father with a frown before looking at Petunia, smirking. "You're excused."
"ANYWAY-" Mr. Weasley smiled an overly bright smile as he turned to Harry. "Have you got your things packed?"
"It's upstairs," said Harry, grinning back.
"We'll get it," said Fred at once. Winking at Harry, he and George left the room. They knew where Harry's bedroom was, having once rescued him from it in the dead of night. Harry suspected that Fred and George were hoping for a glimpse of Dudley; they had heard a lot about him from Harry.
"Well," said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very - erm - very nice place you've got here."
Freya smirked looking around, "Yeah, the soot and the bits of brick from the chimney are an interesting design choice. Speaking we're pretty much responsible for this bit of decor I would suggest we charge you, but I guess I can give you the 'horrible relatives of my best friend discount.'"
Harry raised his eyebrows as she stepped purposely over a chunk of brick to stand next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
"So really, you should be thanking Harry here for saving you the Weasley decor fee. I'm not sure what that fee would actually be, but it'd probably have been costly."
"You don't have to thank me," said Harry trying to force down his grin.
'Yeah, just keep acknowledging him like you usually-"
Harry clapped a hand over her mouth with a sheepish smile. He felt the wind of her sigh on the palm of his hands as Mr. Weasley let out a cheerfully false laugh.
"Yep! Funny joke, Freya dear-my youngest daughter is a jokester see." Mr. Weasley said clasping his hands together. "Ah! Speaking of jokesters, there are the twins with Harry's luggage now!"
Fred and George came back into the room carrying Harry's school trunk. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into identical evil grins.
"Ah, right," said Mr. Weasley. "Better get going..."
He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out his wand. Harry saw the Dursleys back up as one and Freya scoffed as she batted his hand that he'd accidentally kept over her mouth away, rolling her eyes at the spectacle. "Like my dad's going to waste magic hexing them."
Harry grinned looking at her as she glared at his relatives, reminding him strongly of Mrs. Weasley when she clucked her tongue muttering about the feeding habits of his relatives. He had known Freya didn't like the Dursley's, but it was so very apparent now just how much that dislike went.
'Coming," said Fred. "Wait-oh, no."
A bag of sweets had spilled out of Fred's pocket and the contents were now rolling in every direction - big, fat toffees in brightly colored wrappers.
Fred scrambled around, cramming them back into his pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave, stepped forward, and walked right into the fire, saying "the Burrow!" Aunt Petunia gave a little shuddering gasp. There was a whooshing sound, and Fred vanished.
"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley, "you and the trunk."
Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it better. Then, with a second whoosh, George had cried "the Burrow!" and vanished too.
"Freya, you next," said Mr. Weasley.
"Nice to meet you," said Freya brightly to the Dursleys. She grinned genuinely turning to Harry before she stepped into the fire and shouted,"the Burrow!" and disappeared.
Now Harry and Mr. Weasley alone remained.
"Well...'bye then," Harry said to the Dursleys.
They didn't say anything at all. Harry moved toward the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the hearth, Mr. Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He was looking at the Dursleys in amazement.
"Harry said good-bye to you," he said. "Didn't you hear him?"
"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. "Honestly, I don't care."
Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry's shoulder.
"You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"
It was at that moment when Mr. Weasley didn't back down even while the tense silence stretched dangerously, that Harry realized that Freya and the twins could fight a lot like their father too.
Uncle Vernon's face worked furiously. The idea of being taught consideration by a man who had just blasted away half his living room wall seemed to be causing him intense suffering. But Mr. Weasley's wand was still in his hand, and Uncle Vernon's tiny eyes darted to it once, before he said, very resentfully, "Good-bye, then."
"See you," said Harry, putting one foot forward into the green flames, which felt pleasantly like warm breath. At that moment, however, a horrible gagging sound erupted behind him, and Aunt Petunia started to scream.
Harry wheeled around. Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, Harry realized that the foot-long thing was Dudley's tongue - and that a brightly colored toffee wrapper lay on the floor before him.
Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; unsurprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr. Weasley had to shout to make himself heard.
"Not to worry, I can sort him out!" he yelled, advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley.
"No, really!" said Mr. Weasley desperately. "It's a simple process it was the toffee - my son Fred - real practical joker - but it's only an Engorgement Charm - at least, I think it is - please, I can correct it -"
But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became more panic-stricken; Aunt Petunia was sobbing hysterically, tugging Dudley's tongue as though determined to rip it out; Dudley appeared to be suffocating under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue; and Uncle Vernon, who had lost control completely, seized a china figure from on top of the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr. Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to shatter in the blasted fireplace.
"Now really!" said Mr. Weasley angrily, brandishing his wand. "I'm trying to help!"
Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Uncle Vernon snatched up another ornament.
"Harry, go! Just go!" Mr. Weasley shouted, his wand on Uncle Vernon. "I'll sort this out!"
Harry didn't want to miss the fun, but Uncle Vernon's second ornament narrowly missed his left ear, so he thought it was best to leave the situation to Mr. Weasley. He stepped into the fire, looking over his shoulder as he said "the Burrow!" His last fleeting glimpse of the living room was of Mr. Weasley blasting a third ornament out of Uncle Vernon's hand with his wand, Aunt Petunia screaming and lying on top of Dudley, and Dudley's tongue lolling around like a great slimy python. But next moment Harry had begun to spin very fast, and the Dursleys' living room was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green flames.