Ron-Weasly book 2

Book 2. Ron Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets.

Part 1.

When I got home, I wrote to Harry and Hermione several times. If Hermione sent the answers with our owl, then there were no letters from Harry. Which was very strange. Deciding to think about it later, I started doing my homework. My books were designed for five courses. All I had to do was buy a course book and a textbook on ZOTI. And I read, asking my parents about everything at the same time.

It's Harry's birthday. I sent him a gift. Hermione was getting worried too. As it turned out, Harry doesn't answer her either. I asked my father to find out if he was okay.

* * *

It turned out that Harry had been doing magic on vacation yesterday. It looks like something really happened. I persuaded the twins to steal our Ford and check on Harry while Dad was at work. I wrote to Hermione about it.

We waited until our father was on another night raid and flew to Little Whining.

"What kind of house?" Fred asks me.

"4 Tisovaya Street, sort of."

They searched for him in the dark for a long time. He's got bars on his window. We took a closer look. That's right, Harry's bedroom. The twins opened the door of the Ford and started knocking on the window.

* * *

Well, he's finally awake. I was afraid we'd wake up the whole house. We've been knocking for about twenty minutes.

* * *

"Ron!" said Harry, barely moving his lips. How pale and thin he is. Did his relatives starve him?

Hi almost crawled to the window and staggered open it to make it easier for us to talk.

Ron, how did you get here? What are you... And then he noticed that I was looking at him from an old turquoise-colored car that was hanging in the air near the window. Harry opened his mouth in amazement, which amused the brothers sitting in front.

"Hello, Harry!" They exclaimed in one voice. What's happening?

"I asked." Why haven't you answered my emails? "I've invited you to stay almost ten times. And yesterday your father came and said that you used magic in front of Muggles and got an official reprimand....

"It's not me. And how did he know?" the friend protested.

"He works for the Ministry of Magic," I replied. "You know it's forbidden to do magic outside the school. Harry, when was the last time you ate properly?

"Is that what you're telling me? A week ago. My aunt starved me." Harry said expressively, looking at the hovering car.

"Well, that doesn't count. We didn't take him for long. It's Dad's car. We didn't use any magic. It's another thing to do magic in front of the ordinary people you live with...."

"But I told you, it's not me..." It takes a long time to explain. "Could you tell the school that the Dursleys locked me up and said they wouldn't let me into Hogwarts anymore? Never! And I can't get out of here by magic. The Ministry will then say that I have committed two illegal sorceries in a week.

"Calm down, you'll explain everything yourself." I said. "We've come for you. You will spend the last month of the holidays with us."

"But you don't have the right to do magic either..." the friend says perplexedly.

"And we won't." I nodded towards the older brothers. "Don't you see who I brought with me? Buddy, I'm sorry, but all I have to eat is a ham and cheese sandwich. There is nothing else." I reached into the glove compartment of the car for the sandwich I had saved for myself.

"Tie this rope to the grate," Fred ordered, handing Harry one end of it.

"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm in trouble," Harry whispered as he tied a rope to one of the bars.

"Now step aside and stop celebrating the coward. And have a sandwich for now." With that, Fred gave a good gasp, passing my sandwich out the window.

Harry walked over to the cage. He devoured the food hungrily, nibbling off a piece of Hedwig's ham. Hedwig, as if sensing the master's anxiety, sat motionless after swallowing the ham. The car lurched forward, the engine roaring harder and harder, the grille finally gave way and the whole thing popped out of the window frame with a loud bang.

The car soared into the sky, and Harry looked out the window. The grate was hanging about a meter and a half off the ground. Breathing heavily, I dragged her into the car. No one seems to have been woken up.

The grille was finally safely pulled into the car, and Fred backed up as close to the window as possible.

"Jump," I commanded.

"What about my school stuff — a magic wand, a broom..."

"Where are they?"

"In the closet under the stairs." And the door of the room is locked.

"Well, it's nothing." George answered from the front seat. Get away from the window, Harry. The brothers crept cautiously into the room. Harry, finishing his cheese, watched as George took a hairpin out of his pocket and began to pick at the lock with it. "Many wizards believe that learning such magic tricks from Muggles is an empty task," Fred said.

"We don't think so. There's something worth learning from them. Although, of course, they can't work as fast as lightning."

There was a sudden click in the lock, and the door swung open.

"We'll go down to get your suitcase," George whispered, "You pack up what you need in the room and give it to Ron."

"Careful, the last step creaks." Harry warned in a whisper.

And the twins were swallowed up by the darkness of the stairs. Harry ran around the room, collecting things and handing them to me through the window. Harry handed the rest of the ham to Hedwig and ran around the room, collecting things and passing them to me through the window. Then he hurried downstairs to help carry the suitcase. His uncle coughed from the bedroom.

Out of breath, they all dragged the suitcase to the door and across the room to the window. Fred dived into the car and started pulling with me, while Harry and George pushed him out of the room.

Inch by inch, the suitcase was slowly being pulled into the car. Did he put bricks in there? There was another cough from behind the wall.

"Let's get some more," Fred commanded. "One, two, go!"

Harry and George leaned on their shoulders, strained, the suitcase jumped out of the window and fell into the back seat.

"It's all right," George whispered. "Get in quickly!"

Harry had already jumped onto the windowsill when suddenly a loud, long-drawn scream was heard behind him, which was drowned out by a thunderous male voice:

"That damn owl again!"

"I forgot Hedwig." Harry whispered in horror.

He jumped off the windowsill and at the same moment a light flashed on the stairs. Harry grabbed the owl's cage, darted to the window, shoved it into George's hands, and climbed into the car. At that moment, Mr. Dursley punched the door, thinking it was locked. The door flew open, and Mr. Dursley stood for a moment in the doorway, letting out the roar of an angry bull, leapt to the window and managed to grab onto the ankle of his friend who rushed to the car.

The brothers grabbed Harry by the arms and pulled him into the car with all their might.

"Petunia!" Vernon thundered. "He's running away! HE'S RUNNING AWAY!"

The brothers pulled again, and Harry's leg slipped out of Uncle Harry's hands. Harry flew into the car and slammed the door.

"Step on the gas, Fred!" I shouted, and the car sped up at full speed, heading for the moon. Harry rolled down the window, the night air ruffling his hair. The roofs of the houses on Privet Drive were rapidly shrinking in size. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and Dudley stared dumbfounded from the window of Harry's room.

"See you next summer!" Harry waved them goodbye. The brothers were laughing and shouting loudly. And our friend, who was saved by us, was leaning back in his seat, smiling all over his face.

"Let Hedwig out," he told me. "Let him fly from behind. To be locked up for so many days!"

Locked up? They're crazy. It's an owl! Yes, it's a spirit, but it has all the habits of a real owl.

George handed me the hairpin, and in another minute, Hedwig flew out the window, happy and gliding like a ghost through the air next to the car.

"Well, tell me quickly," I demanded impatiently. "What happened to you?"

Harry told us about Dobby's visit, about his warning, and described the death of Mrs. Dursley's culinary masterpiece.

"So I run out with a stack of letters in my pocket and see my aunt's pudding floating in the air. And then the brute dropped him on the floor. And I received a warning letter from the ministry. And Uncle Vernon, when he found out that I wasn't allowed to do magic, put bars on the window the next day. So last week they locked me in my room and only gave me cold soup once a day. Yes, they took me to the toilet."

"It's very strange," Freddy drawled.

"That doesn't sound like it," George nodded. "And he didn't say who was plotting this atrocity?"

"I didn't think he could say that." Harry tried to explain. "He opens his mouth and immediately starts banging his head against the wall."

Fred and George exchanged glances.

"Do you think he made it up?" Harry asked.

"You see," Fred began, "Brownies can do magic, but they usually don't dare without their owners' permission. Most likely, old Dobby was sent by someone to keep you away from school. Remember, do you have an enemy at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Harry and I answered in one voice, without hesitation.

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "He hates me."

"Draco Malfoy?" George asked, turning around. "Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"I think so," Harry replied. "Malfoy is a rare surname. Is it important?"

"I heard what my father said about him" George said "he was an accomplice of You-Know-Who. One of the most important ones."

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared" Fred continued, turning his head almost a hundred and eighty degrees, "Lucius Malfoy began to assure everyone that he was not involved in any evil deeds. But he was lying. His father says he was his closest assistant."

"I don't know if the Malfoys have their own brownie..." Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Whoever Dobby's masters are, they're probably an old wizarding family, and a very rich one at that," Fred noticed.

"Of course..." George replied. "Mom regrets that we don't have a brownie, the family is big, we have to iron so much, and magic can't help here. But she likes to cook for our crowd. And the brownie will take away all her hobbies. She won't even let us boys near the cauldron. Ginny, the future hostess of the house, says that she should eat and learn to cook, and our wife should feed us. We only have a decrepit ghoul who lives in the attic. And the gnomes have filled the whole garden. Brownies live only in old mansions and castles. They are inherited. There's no elf in our house."

Harry flew in silence. Yes, Draco could very well have sent a devoted servant to Harry to prevent his appearance at school at any cost. Draco Malfoy is capable of that. But he really considers his friend a cousin. A stupid little cousin. That's why he clings. You've already told me straight out that you're his friend, so at least raise him as a pure-blooded wizard and not just feed him.

"Anyway, I'm glad we came for you," I said. "You know how worried I was! "I'm writing to you, and I'm writing, and there's no response. At first I thought it was the Shooter's fault..."

"And who is Strelka?"

"Our postal owl, an old, old one. Flies, flies with a letter and suddenly falls on the way. She's just too old to hold her wings anymore, she's still Grandpa Galus. I asked Hermes..."

"Who, who?"

"Percy's owl. Mom and dad gave it to him when Percy was appointed prefect," Fred explained from the front seat.

"But Percy didn't give it to me. He said he needed Hermes himself."

"Percy's been acting weird this summer." George frowned. "He writes letters to someone endlessly, sits for hours locked in his room. Well, how many times can you jerk off in the room and polish the prefect's badge? You've gone too far west, Fred," he caught himself, pointing to the compass embedded in the control panel.

Fred hurriedly turned the steering wheel to the left.

"Does your father know that you took his car?" Harry asked.

"N-no," I mumbled. "He's working at night tonight. I hope we can get the car in the garage before Mom wakes up. God forbid she notices that we took a Ford.

"What does your father do at the Ministry of Magic?"

"He works in the most boring department, "Illegal use of Muggle inventions."

"What is the use?" "I'll explain now. For example, you have a thing that wasn't made by wizards. You bewitched her, and then she got back to them — in a house or a store. An old witch died last year, and she had a tea set. It was sold at auction to a woman in the non-magical world. She invited her friends over for a cup of tea. So what was going on there! My father spent several weeks solving the case from morning to night.

"Can you tell me more details?"

"I can, of course. The kettle went berserk. He spat boiling water all around him, and the sugar tongs pinched one guest's nose, and he was sent to the hospital. My father was furious. There were only two of them in the department: him and an old wizard named Perkins Warbeck. They suffered a lot back then! They even used the Oblivion spell."

"What about your father's car?"

"It's totally awesome!" Fred laughed.

"It wasn't the wizards who made up so many little tricks, they drove my father nuts. We have a barn full of them! He'll bring it back, take it apart, cast a spell, and put it back together. If he had searched himself, he would have had to arrest himself. Well, if he uses these things in a non-magical world. Mom swears that the whole barn is full of junk, but he doesn't give a damn."

"That's our highway." George said, peering through the windshield into the thinning darkness. "Ten more minutes and we'll be home. It's getting light, I think we'll be on time."

The horizon in the east was faintly flushed. I've been feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach for a long time. Harry ate my late pancake dinner. Well, I'm not sorry. He's so skinny. Damn, his stomach is rumbling too. Even louder than mine.

Fred began to descend. I could make out the boundaries of fields and clumps of trees below.

"Hey gobblers, we are almost over the village of Ottery St. Catchpole," George informed me.

The ground was rapidly approaching. The crimson edge of the sun was already shining through the treetops.

"Let's sit down! Breakfast is coming soon, so we won't be with Mom, but we'll sit quietly in our rooms. Then we'll eat." Fred announced.

And the car bounced slightly and touched the ground with its wheels. We landed in a tiny backyard next to a sagging garage. Initially, it was a small brick house, but then from time to time new rooms were added to it from above and from the sides, the house grew by several floors, but it looked so unstable, as if it was held together by magic alone. Five chimneys jutted haphazardly from the red-tiled roof. At the entrance, the inscription "Rabbit Hole." hung on a pole, slightly askew. On the side of the porch, next to a huge rusty saucepan, was a pile of rubber boots of various colors and sizes. Plump little birds walked around the yard and pecked at something. They've bred up again, and we'll be able to slaughter meat soon. There will be chicken soup and fried legs. Mmm. And not just the tired eggs.