Chapter 258: Floo Network
Harry had actually anticipated that today's lunch might not be as relaxing as usual.
After all, Sirius had said he was coming to pick him up.
But even so, Harry didn't expect things to be this tense.
Lunch was being held in the garden, where the table was covered with roast chicken, pies, salads, cakes, juice, roast potatoes, fried sausages, and the tempting aroma of onion soup.
However, despite the sumptuous meal, even Ron sat obediently in his seat, not daring to take a single bite.
Fred and George were unusually serious for once, sitting stiffly with blank stares — for the first time in their lives, they almost looked like Percy.
Ginny kept sneaking glances at Harry, as though trying to read his mind.
Percy, who usually wore his prefect badge with pride, had even taken it off.
Draco looked so nervous that he seemed afraid to breathe; his normally pale face was even paler than usual.
Even the gnomes in the garden were silent.
A gnome lying sprawled next to a peony bush wore a comical frozen expression — a grim reminder of what happened to those who made too much noise. While Mrs. Weasley waited for Sirius, the poor creature had been struck by her Petrificus Totalus in a fit of frustration.
Mr. Weasley kept glancing at his watch, checking the time every few seconds.
No, perhaps only Kreacher seemed at ease.
He sat off to the side, holding a piece of bread in both hands — the only thing he'd been willing to accept — and took resentful, reluctant bites as though chewing on an eraser.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Although he understood Mrs. Weasley's anxiety, he couldn't help but think, "Why are we all sitting here waiting when Sirius said he'd come at noon — and it's only eleven?"
He looked up at the sky from time to time. Sirius had a flying motorcycle — Mr. Weasley had told him that ages ago while gushing about its modifications.
It seemed that Hagrid had one too.
Although it was rude to imagine, Harry couldn't help but picture Hagrid trying to squeeze onto a motorcycle and immediately dismissed the thought before he laughed out loud.
But things didn't happen quite as Harry had imagined.
Suddenly, Kreacher turned his head sharply, his long ears twitching — as though sensing something inside the Burrow.
"It's Sirius!" he croaked.
A moment later, Sirius Black strolled out of the Burrow, laughing heartily.
"Arthur, why's everyone sitting down for lunch so early? I checked the clock — it's barely eleven! I set out half an hour early and somehow I'm still late!"
He dropped into the seat Mr. Weasley had reserved for him — on the left-hand side — and sniffed the air eagerly.
"Mm, onion soup! Molly's specialty!" Sirius exclaimed, drinking it down without hesitation as though Mrs. Weasley sitting across from him didn't exist.
Mr. Weasley made a strange noise, then calmly rubbed his thigh beneath the table — clearly the result of a warning kick. "Sirius, my friend, I've got some very fine wine here, sent by one of my colleagues from the International Department."
Sirius leaned in and sniffed the bottle. "Vodka?"
"The alcohol content is low — practically water," Mr. Weasley said with an awkward grin.
Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "No thanks, Arthur. I'm here to pick up Harry and the others today. Can't show up drunk in front of the kids."
"But you came through the Floo Network, didn't you? What harm could a little drink do?" Mr. Weasley pressed on, following the secret plan he'd clearly made with his wife. "If you don't drink, you're looking down on me!"
Sirius laughed. "There's a saying in the Muggle world, Arthur — 'Don't drink and drive.' I say, 'Don't drink and use the Floo Network.' If you slur your words, you might end up in the wrong place!"
Mrs. Weasley finally joined in. "Sirius, the Floo Network has been used for nearly three hundred years. I think you're worrying too much."
Mr. Weasley looked relieved at her support, quickly shoveling pie into his mouth to hide his grin.
But Sirius shook his head. "No, Molly. Remember the Diliman tragedy of 1855? Violet Diliman got into a fight with her husband Albert — started hiccupping and choking while she tried to Floo to her mother's. Vanished completely. Never seen again."
He pointed dramatically. "Albert never recovered, poor bloke. Never used Floo again."
Even Mr. Weasley gave a respectful nod — that was a well-delivered argument.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You may not know the rest of that story, Sirius."
"Violet didn't disappear. She was accidentally transported to the home of a handsome young wizard named Myron Ozerhouse in Bury St. Edmunds. He fell in love with her on the spot, despite the ashes on her face. They married and had seven children — the same number Arthur and I have, as it happens. Distant relatives, in fact."
Ron froze mid-bite, completely caught up in the story. If Draco hadn't tried to snatch the last chicken pie, Ron might have forgotten to eat altogether.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What about poor Albert, then?"
"He died alone," Mrs. Weasley said with a meaningful glare, "and never used the Floo Network again."
For a long moment, Sirius stared at her — then grinned sheepishly. "So, the moral of the story is: don't drink and use the Floo Network. Got it. Harry, you heard that?"
Harry nodded quickly, trying not to laugh.
"You know, there are quite a few wizarding families who'd love to adopt you," Sirius said casually, turning toward Harry with a teasing smile. "But then, you'd have to part ways with your dear godfather."
Harry lowered his head, hiding a small grin. "I'll keep that in mind."
Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, no longer had any reason to continue her campaign to get Sirius drunk — which was perhaps for the best.
By four o'clock that afternoon, everyone had gathered around the kitchen fireplace.
"Harry, be careful. Remember to speak clearly," Sirius reminded him. "Say the destination out loud first, then step into the fire immediately — that'll keep the heat and ash from catching you."
He took a handful of sparkling Floo powder from a small bag, tossed it into the fire, and the flames whooshed up in a bright green blaze.
Sirius stepped into the hearth, called out clearly, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" and vanished in an instant.
Harry stared into the swirling green flames, feeling a twinge of excitement.
It was time to go.
(End of Chapter 258)
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