Chapter 1105

"Am looking forward to?"

"Of course." Harry nodded in response to Fan Lin's question.

Leaving the Dursleys and coming to the Burrow, or the ancestral home of the Black family, was what he dreamed of. However, it was obvious that Harry preferred the atmosphere of the Burrow to the ancestral home of the Black family. , being at Ron's house obviously made Harry more comfortable.

In fact, considering security, it is obviously unreasonable to put the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix as the subject of strict supervision by the Ministry of Magic. With something as big as Voldemort happening, it was obviously not a reliable idea to leave Harry alone in the Muggle world. Naturally, the Burrow became a good choice.

Without further ado, a few people walked into the back door of the Burrow, where there were piles of old-fashioned high boots and rusty old cauldrons that both Fanlin and Harry were very familiar with. Harry could even hear the sound in the distance. The sound of sleepy chickens chirping from the chicken coop.

This moment made Harry feel a bit dreamy, but in some aspects, it seemed extremely real, such as Fan Lin standing next to him, or Dumbledore walking forward.

Dumbledore knocked on the door three times, and then Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

"Who is it?" asked a nervous voice, whom Harry recognized as Mrs. Weasley. "Say your name!"

"It's me, Dumbledore, we're back."

The door opened immediately. The squat Mrs. Weasley stood there in an old green nightgown.

"Harry, dear! God, Albus, you scared me. Didn't you say that you and Fanlin wouldn't be back until dawn?"

"We are lucky," Dumbledore said, crossing the threshold. "Slughorn was easier to convince than I thought. Harry certainly helped. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Harry looked around the room and realized that even though it was late, Mrs. Weasley was not alone. There was also a young witch with a heart-shaped face sitting next to the table. Her face was pale and she was holding a large cup in her hand.

"Hello, professor," she said. "Hello, Harry and Fanlin."

"Hi, Tonks." Harry thought she looked a little haggard, even sickly, and her smile was forced. Without her usual bubblegum pink hair, she didn't look as radiant as before.

Harry wanted to say something, but Fan Lin took the lead to stop him and signaled him not to say more. This made Harry a little confused, but what Tonks did next made Harry even more confused.

"It's time for me to go," Tonks said quickly, standing up and throwing her cloak over her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Oh, for my sake please don't go yet," Dumbledore said politely. "I can't stay long. I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I really have to go," Tonks said, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. "Good night--"

"Honey, come over for dinner this weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming over-?"

"No, really, Molly... Anyway, thanks... Good night, everyone."

Tonks walked quickly past Dumbledore and walked out the door without looking back. After a few steps outside, he disappeared into the thin air. This made Tonks look like he was being amnesty? Escape from here?

Harry was a little confused, and he also noticed that Mrs. Weasley looked a little preoccupied.

"Well, we'll see you at Hogwarts, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Take care of yourself. I'm at your disposal, Molly."

Dumbledore bowed to Mrs. Weasley and disappeared in almost the same place as Tonks. Mrs. Weasley closed the door, pulled Harry into the light of the lantern, put her hands on Harry's shoulders and studied his appearance carefully.

"You're just like Ron," she sighed, looking him up and down. "It's like you're all under an elongating spell. I could have sworn Ron is four inches taller than the last time I bought him robes. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry suddenly realized how hungry he was. "Sit down, honey, I'm going to get something to eat."

Harry was sitting when a cat with ginger hair and a big flat face jumped up on Fan Lin's lap next to him, curled up there and purred. "So Hermione's here too?" He scratched Crookshanks cheerfully behind the ears.

"Of course..." Fan Lin rolled his eyes, "In fact, Hermione and I just arrived here the day before yesterday. Compared to Modric 1, the Burrow is obviously more suitable for us to appear. After all, Voldemort has returned. We are on the opposite side and always have to give the Ministry some information."

"Information, you said..."

"The Burrow is protected by the Ministry of Magic." Fanlin said, rubbing Crookshanks' big head, "We must give the Ministry of Magic something to do, otherwise, they won't even be able to find a place to resist."

"So, this place became the Order of the Phoenix..."

"Oh, it's just a branch. In fact, it's almost the same as the headquarters. After all, some of the things above are decided here, and Sirius..." Fan Lin looked at Mrs. Weasley, "Some secrets Or should I make a decision with Sirius, for example..."

Mrs. Weasley's voice was a little louder. She tapped a large tin can with her wand: it jumped onto the stove with a clang and immediately began to bubble.

"Actually, everyone is asleep and we didn't expect you to be here in a few hours. Take—"

In mid-air, the tin can flew to Harry's side and tilted; Mrs. Weasley thrust a bowl in, just in time to catch the thick onion soup pouring out of the can, which was still steaming hot. Similarly, Mrs. Weasley gave Fan Lin another bowl.

"Want some bread, dear?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." She raised her wand and waved it; a piece of bread and a knife fell gracefully onto the table. The bread was cut automatically and the pot returned to the stove, so Mrs. Weasley naturally sat down opposite Harry.

It was obviously impossible to continue talking to Fanlin. Harry knew Mrs. Weasley's attitude. To be precise, it was forbidden to talk to Harry about the Order of the Phoenix?

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Fan Lin picked up a piece of bread and took a bite, completely denying what he said before.

Harry also knew how to eat his soup silently, and Mrs. Weasley was sitting opposite. Do you expect them to talk about Dumbledore's plan here?

"So you convinced Horace Slughorn to take this job?"

Harry's mouth was full of hot soup, so he just nodded.

"He taught Arthur and me," Mrs. Weasley said. "He taught at Hogwarts for a long time, I think with Dumbledore. What do you think of him?"

Harry's mouth was now full of bread again and he shrugged, moving his head uncertainly.

"I know what you mean," Mrs. Weasley nodded sagely. "Of course he could be very attractive if he wanted to, but Arthur never liked him. The Ministry was full of Slughorn's protégés, and he was always good at helping, but never had the time. Help Arthur - he doesn't seem to think Arthur is an ambitious man, but that just goes to show that even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know if Ron told you that in his letter. What just happened - Arthur was promoted!"

It couldn't be clearer, Mrs. Weasley had been anxious to say this. Harry swallowed a large mouthful of hot soup and felt that his throat was burning and blistering.

"That's great!" he gasped.

"That's very kind of you," Mrs. Weasley looked pleased and wiped her wet eyes. "Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has established several new departments in response to the current situation. Arthur now leads the Office of Detection and Collection of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Items. This is a big job, and his staff There are already ten people!”

"What exactly is that -?" "Well, you know, due to the panic about the mysterious man, strange objects that claim to be able to defend against the mysterious man and Death Eaters are constantly being sold. You can imagine what it is - the so-called Protective potions, which are basically broths with the pus of Babbo tubers, and tutorials on defensive spells that actually just take your ears off... well, generally the perpetrators are like People like Mundungus Fletcher have never done anything serious in their lives and only use people's fear to cheat. But from time to time, really serious things happen. Arthur even confiscated them a few days ago. I found a batch of speculums that were probably enchanted and almost certainly planted by some Death Eater. It was clear that this was a very important job, and I told him not to be foolish enough to skip checking the spark plugs and toasting the bread. Machines and all that kind of muggle crap."

Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a stern look, as if Harry was suggesting that Mr. Weasley let go of the spark plug.

However, in fact, Mr. Weasley still has not received any high-level job. This is still Mr. Weasley's previous job, uh, dealing with Muggle accidents?

However, this time Mr. Weasley expanded the scope of his inspection.

It’s a thankless job, and it’s easy to offend people…

"Is Mr. Weasley still at work?" Harry asked. Obviously, Mrs. Weasley wanted to tell him this.

"Yeah. A little late, actually... He said he'd be back around midnight..." She turned to look at the large clock, which was piled awkwardly on top of a laundry basket full of linens at the end of the table. above.

Harry recognized it immediately: there were nine hands in total, each with the name of a family member engraved on it. It was usually hung on the wall of the Weasley family's living room, and its current position indicated that Mrs. Weasley Keep it with you tonight. Every needle points to "life-threatening".

"It's been like that for a while," said Mrs. Weasley in an unconvincing lightness, "ever since You-Know-Who came back. I thought maybe everyone was in danger... I don't think it's just ours...but I don't know anyone else who has a clock like this, so I can't verify, oh!"

She suddenly exclaimed and pointed at the clock face. Mr. Weasley's needle turned to "on the road."

"He's coming back!"

After a while, there was indeed a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried over; she put a hand on the doorknob, pressed her face against the wooden door and asked softly, "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes," was Mr. Weasley's tired voice. "But that's what I would answer if I were a Death Eater, my dear. Ask questions!"

"Oh, frankly..."

"Molly!"

"Okay, okay...what's your biggest ambition?"

"To find out why airplanes fly."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but Mr. Weasley was obviously holding it tightly on the other side of the door, because the door was still tightly closed.

"Molly! I have to ask you a question first!"

"Arthur, really, this will be silly..."

"What do you like me to call you when we are alone?" Even in the dim light, Harry could see Mrs. Weasley's face turn red; he suddenly felt red himself, so he swallowed a mouthful of soup hastily and scratched his spoon in the bowl as loudly as possible.

"Molly darling," Mrs. Weasley said to the sound of the door being as quiet as possible.

"Correct," Mr. Weasley said. "You can let me in now." Mrs. Weasley opened the door and her husband, a thin, balding wizard with a few red hairs on his head, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a long, dusty traveling cloak, stood outside.

"I still don't understand why you have to come here every time you come home," said Mrs. Weasley, her face still flushed as she helped her husband take off his cloak.

"I mean, a Death Eater might have tortured it out before impersonating you."

"I know, dear, but this is the procedure required by the Ministry, and I have to set an example. It smells so good - is it onion soup?"

Mr. Weasley turned his face towards the table with expectation.

"Aha, Harry, Vanlin, I thought you would come in the morning!"

"Oh, in fact, the process went much more smoothly than expected." Vanlin shrugged helplessly, shook hands with Mr. Weasley, and then it was Harry. This was inevitable. Mr. Weasley always liked to do this, for example, go through some Ministry procedures?

In fact, it was not necessary at all, but Vanlin thought it was very interesting, going back to Hermione's room, and then asking some questions before entering the door?

Mr. Weasley pulled out a chair next to him and sat down, and Mrs. Weasley also served him a bowl of onion soup.

"Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiots have started selling disguise badges. Just hang them around your neck and you can change your appearance at will. They claim that you can get thousands of disguises for only ten Galleons!"

"So what actually happens after you hang them around your neck?"

"Most people will just turn into an annoying orange color, but a few have tentacle-like tumors growing all over their bodies. It's as if St. Mungo's isn't busy enough."

"It sounds like something Fred and George would like," Mrs. Weasley said hesitantly. "Are you sure it's not--"

"Of course I'm sure!" Mr. Weasley said. "They wouldn't do this kind of thing when people are busy seeking protection!"

"Speaking of which, Vanlin, this is what you're good at, right..." Mr. Weasley asked, "For example, a disguise necklace."

"Oh, yes." Vanlin nodded, "But it costs more than ten gold Galleons to make it, and it's very time-consuming..." Vanlin was not only worried about those who were deceived, but also lost the most basic judgment because of fear?

A solidified disguised Animagus, no matter how you think about it, this is also a very precious item.

"So this is why you came back late, the disguise badge?"

"Of course not, we also got wind that someone had placed a tempering spell in the Elephant Castle, and fortunately when we got there, we found that the Magical Law Enforcement Team had already found it..." (To be continued)