A/N: I was completely surprised on how I had five comments so fast! Within a day, I had four…very scary…Anyway; I guess you all enjoyed my pathetic attempt at writing, so I really do hope you enjoy this chapter.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and/or anything related to the series do not belong to me. (Except the twisted plot I am devising for my own cure to boredom.) ::Eats marshmallow::
A very mussed Mrs. Weasley dragged her feet slowly down the stairs at her husband's hurried call. Her red hair was slowly fading to gray, exhibiting her years as an at-home mom. Her worn bathrobe was a foot short than it should have been, and her house slippers had tiny little holes torn in many places.
She walked into the kitchen quietly, seeing her husband in his also worn robes, his eyes wide in disbelief as he read the newspaper hastily. Ron, Fred, and George were outside, from what Mrs. Weasley could see from the kitchen window, de-gnoming the garden once again.
She shook her head, turned around and opened the cabinet door on the wall, and pulled out a breakfast pan. Mr. Weasley seemed to notice his wife's presence just then, because he called out her name in distressed panic.
"What is it, Ar-Oh, Sweet Merlin…"
Attack on Gringotts: Sixty Dead!Article By Heather Brann
"This is an outrage! The Minister of Magic must take action right away. Sixty lives had been severed due to his and the Ministry's lack of action."
-David Collins, Head of Gringotts Accountant System
Whether this really is the Minister's fault or not, one thing is for sure. Sixty, thirty men, twenty-eight women, and two children, are dead. The magical community is in an unaltered wave of shock, and disbelief.
But the question is: What happened? Last night, July 6th Friday, both Central Security Branches of Gringotts for Australia and the city of Cairo were attacked by what is believed to be the work of those who are called Death Eaters, the estranged "lackeys" of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Both incidents were conducted at the same time, but the hour difference is due to time zones, so this is a debated fact. Regardless of the time, thirty Death Eaters stormed the Australian branch, as twenty took the Cairo branch.
In the Australian branch, the more devastated section of the two, the apparent goal was to breach security, and shut down all Pacific Ocean area Gringotts accounts. The Death Eaters stormed the compound, killing security guards, employees, and etc. A similar situation took place in the Cairo branch. No account(s) were shut down; Ministry Aurors and surviving Security Guards subdued the attack, but at the expense of many lives.
Action is demanded, apparently, by most of the wizarding community, so Mr. Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic, will be under much pressure. He will be holding a public square meeting by Flourish and Blott's in London's Diagon alley on July 28th.
Mrs. Weasley shook her head in incredulity. She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, who put his own hand over hers. He sipped a bit of his coffee, and stood up. He pecked his wife softly on the cheek.
"I guess this means I better get to work quickly." He sighed, tying his shoes on.
Mrs. Weasley nodded.
"Be careful, dear. Do you know what time you'll be home?" she inquired, picking up the frying pan that she had dropped on the floor.
Mr. Weasley shrugged.
"I don't know, Molly. Just make dinner at the regular time, and if I'm not here, save some leftovers and I'll eat them when I get home."
Mrs. Weasley nodded again.
"Harry's coming today," Mrs. Weasley, gasped as Mr. Weasley checked his watch, " how are we going to get him."
"He said he was coming his own way, and not to worry." Ron shouted through the window, as Fred and George made faces behind his back at him. The gnomes were sneakily running behind all of the boys' backs to their respected holes.
Mr. Weasley nodded.
"Alright," he replied, glancing at his watch again, " well, bye dear."
With a small pop, Mr. Weasley apparated to work, leaving a troubled Mrs. Weasley standing alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, she was seized with panic. A week ago, Ginny had been mumbling to herself about an attack, her face pale and her hands numb. She spat out babble, or at least that had been something Mrs. Weasley thought it had been at the time.
"It can't be," Mrs. Weasley, whispered, "She couldn't have inherited it…"
Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder as she waved at her friends, who sped off. Harry was supposed to be here by now, and she had made sure he was going to notice her, and the painstaking changes she had put herself through the summer for his attention.
She shut the door quietly, stealing one glace at the stunning radiance, cold and cruel in their graceful beauty. Her friend's mother had lent her the article about the attack about Gringotts this morning in the Daily Bugle before she and her friend's had gone shopping.
She flipped on the lights to the kitchen, to find a red-eyed Mrs. Weasley at the table, whose head was nestled in her hands. Ginny squinted in confusion at her mother, who didn't even acknowledge her presence.
"You have it, don't you?" the unstable voice of what sounded to be Mrs. Weasley's called out.
"Have what, Mum?" she asked curiously, taking her purse off her shoulder and sliding into a chair across from her mother.
The older redhead glanced up at her daughter, her eyes dancing with distress, red cracks slapped onto her eyes like sticky-tacks. She scratched the back of her neck, and straightened her posture.
"All the women in my family," Mrs. Weasley, "have been Dream Keepers, but for the last three generations, we had been skipped."
Ginny looked at her mother blankly.
"Wow," she said after a few minutes, stunned, "so I'm not crazy; it's genetics."
Mrs. Weasley laughed hoarsely.
"If you ever need any help," she countered, her daughter's eyes watching her every move, "I'm always awake."
Ginny smiled softly, trying desperately to assure her mother that she was completely fine.
"Don't worry, Mum, they're not bad at all." She lied, her mind forcing her to believe it also.
Mrs. Weasley glanced at her daughter lightly.
"Whatever you say, darling…whatever you say…"
Ginny rose slowly, her eyes darting to the floor.
"Well…night." Ginny said.
Her mother nodded in reply, and the youngest redhead crept up the stairs to face another night.
Harry clutched the floo powder tightly in his hands, his knuckles white. He treaded slowly down the stairs, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention. He shrugged on his jacket casually, shouldering a backpack in one hand, and dragging his trunk in the other.
He set both these at the foot of the spiraling stairs, and sighed, brushing off a bit of dust of his red shirt. His untamed assortment of hair was the same as ever, and his eyes sparkled like untouched gems, glittering with mad excitement.
Harry walked quietly into the kitchen, his hands still clenched, butterflies fluttering their way uncomfortably down into the hollow pit of his stomach. He shook away this feeling, hoping it wouldn't interfere with his case; the case he was about to present to his Uncle Vernon.
"Uncle Vernon," Harry said quietly, but confidently, "I'm going now."
The red-faced man looked up from his newspaper, apparently irritated at the fifteen-year-old boy's intrusion. He scratched his head, took a sip from his coffee cup, and turned casually back to his newspaper.
"And I suppose they'll be coming to get you from the sink." He muttered, disgusted.
Harry fists balled, and became ever whiter, is it were at all more possible.
"We're wizards, Uncle Vernon," Harry countered, relishing the fact that his uncle flinched as he enunciated wizard, "not dishes."
The meaty man slammed his fists on the table, and threw the paper onto the floor. His face, blotched with red, was suddenly there, as he shoved the boy towards the wall.
"Never," he replied threatingly, his eyes glittering with unrivaled malice, " say that word in my house again."
Harry smiled and pulled out his wand, which he had knowingly placed in his pocket.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." He countered, ducking from the man's meaty hand, which was poised for his hands.
Harry, using his seasoned Seeker reflexes, sprinted towards the living room, grabbing his trunk and backpack, haphazardly threw the whole pouch of floo powder into the fire. As the fire roared, he jumped in quickly, seeing his uncle fumbling into the living room.
"Having trouble?" Ron asked, as Harry apparated into the fireplace. The raven-haired boy fell flat onto his face, his glasses cracking under the weight of his head. He sighed, reminding himself that one day, he was purchasing contacts.
"Not funny, Ron…" he muttered, getting up and dusting off the soot from his shirt.
Ron chuckled lightly.
"You thought I was trying to be?" he asked comically.
Harry glared in contempt at his friend and said nothing.
"You're not really that mad, are you?" Ron asked, as he picked up Harry's trunk.
Harry's frown stayed glued to his face.
"It wasn't funny…" he repeated flatly to himself.
Ron rolled his eyes and dragged the trunk up the stairs, his friend following. As they passed through the hall, Harry's eyes slowly traced their way onto the door of Ginny's room, where a muffled sort of sound was floating.
"Hmm…what's Ginny doing?" Harry asked curiously, as he and Ron reached the bright-orange bedroom.
Ron grinned from ear to ear.
"Ginny and her friends formed a 'band' this year, just they way muggles do it. They all learned how to read music and such, except Ginny."
"Why not Ginny?"
Ron's grin, if possible, grew much wider.
"She's the lead singer."
Harry took a step back in surprise.
"Wait," he said slowly, " this is the same Ginny that was shy and couldn't stand to be looked at from last year, right?"
Ron smirked evilly.
"She's quite outgoing, actually," he countered, "she was only like that around you, oh famous, cute, perfect Harry Potter!"
Harry elbowed his friend, laughing lightly.
"Oh, be quiet! She's has to be over that crush already." He exclaimed, sitting on his friend's bed.
Ron nodded, his laughter frothing away in tiny bubbles.
"She has. I think her and Justin Flinch-Fletchley have something going on, actually."
Harry's eyes grew wide.
Ron nodded in disgust.
"They've been dating on and off all summer," he complained, sitting down across fro his friend, "she always talks about him and what they do. He's actually in the band. He plays…can't seem to remember. I know that's it's a fish or something of the sort…"
Harry burst into laughter.
"You must mean he plays bass. It's not a fish; it's a type of rhythm or sound." He stated.
"But," Ron countered, confusion apparent on his face, " the book said that a bass was a type of fish…"
Harry just laughed and punched his friend in the arm.
"You're too dense for your own good, Ron…"
Ron just shook his head.
"Muggles are so stupid, yet they're so confusing at the same time. I don't see how 'Mione stands muggle studies."
"It's that or Divination, and, truthfully, I'd rather have a week of Snape then one lesson with Trelwaney…"
Ron nodded in agreement.
"No kidding." He replied.
"What time is it?" Harry asked.
" About eleven o'clock." Ron said, grabbing his pajamas from his dresser, "We can tell Mum and the others that you're here later. Right now, let's go to sleep."
Harry nodded, and grabbed his pajamas himself.
Mush shorter than I had anticipated, but Chapter two will be better, I guess; Just a bridging chapter. ^^
Jay: I'm glad you enjoy. I hope you're around to review for this chapter!
Blank: It's really too bad you didn't leave a name, but I'm glad you appreciate my style!
Korn: Thanks for the comments. Much appreciated!
James: Why do I feel like you and Korn are the same people? If so, I'm really flattered…if not, thanks for your comments too.
Suki: I'm happy that you can relate my work to something; the funny thing is: I've never seen Angel in my life before. I'm glad you like and I also hope you review this one!
Kirsten: Shut up, joo! ^^;;