94 Diagon Alley

    , "Here she is."

    Fred and George were already squatting in the low attic waiting for them.

    "Three lazy Weasleys." Gwen scolded them with his arms crossed, then sat down on the floor and sighed contentedly.

    A horrible, half-sucking, half-groaning sound came from near them, along with an unpleasant smell resembling a gutter.

    "Merlin," Gwen shuddered and hid behind George, "I forgot that there were ghouls here, so I just sat on the ground."

    "Don't worry, there's no snot on the floor." George comforted her.

    A few steps away from them, the guy opened his mouth wide and was sleeping soundly in the shadows.

    "Ronnie needs the help of a real adult," Fred said, squeezing his throat. "He's going to make the ghoul into his pretty face."

    "Why?" Gwen wondered, "You just need to quietly drop out..."

    "If the three of us don't show up at Hogwarts, everyone will think Hermione and I must be with Harry, right? That means the Death Eaters will come straight to it Our family, let's see if they know Harry's whereabouts." Ron was proud of his brilliant plan. "We can't hide our whole family, it's too suspicious, and they can't all work, so we're going to let the wind out and say I've got severe pimples and can't go back to school. If someone comes to investigate , mom or dad can show them the pustular ghoul on my bed. The scabbard is so contagious that they won't want to go near it. It doesn't matter if it doesn't speak because the fungus spreads to the little tongue, sure Can't speak."

    Gwen was a little sad, did they really expect three young wizards to take on the burden of the magical world and embark on a dangerous journey full of unknowns?

    "Don't be silent," Ron said, bewildered by the silence in the attic, "Hermione even used the Oblivion Charm on her parents, just to protect Harry—and to protect them. "

    "I—right—" Gwen didn't know what to say, and it took a while before he said, "I should give it red hair."

    "And we have a lot of pimple powder and smallpox candy." Fred and George opened a small W-printed suitcase.

    "And a set of my old pajamas." Ron dug out the clothes he had hidden from the corner.

    Looking at the sticky ghoul with snot foaming from sleep, Gwen immediately retracted the feeling he had just moved: "Ron, go and dress it, I don't want to touch that thing at all. Son."

    Soon, "Ron" with thick hair and red blisters appeared in the attic of the Burrow.

    "As soon as I'm gone, this ghoul will come down and live in my room," said Ron, "I think he's dying—not easy to tell because he just hums Humph, drooling—but kinda likes to nod. Anyway, it's me with the pimple. How's it going?"

    "I have to admit, I was proud of you as my brother once or twice." Fred patted Ron's shoulder heavily.

    "I hope your journey goes well, or we'll call this guy brother in the future." George pinched his chin and looked at the pustular ghoul and shook his head.

    "It doesn't make much difference." Fred said with a smile.

     Fleur's family came to the Burrow two days before the wedding. It was soon discovered that the Delacours were pleasant guests and helpful to others. They were happy with everything and actively helped with the wedding planning. From the seating arrangement to the shoes for the bridesmaids, Mr. Delacour said, "It's so cute!" Madame Delacour was such a good hand at housework spells that she wiped the oven clean in the blink of an eye. Gabrielle followed her sister like a little tail, twittering in French as she tried to help.

    The downside is that the Burrow is not structured to accommodate so many people. The Weasleys clamored to overwhelm the Delacourts' objections, insisting that the guests sleep in their bedrooms and themselves in the living room. Gabriel and Fleur slept together in Percy's former room, and Charlie, the best man, will share a room with Bill when he returns from Romania.

    It's Harry's seventeenth birthday.

    Gwen and Hermione went to deliver gifts to Harry in the morning, just in time for him and Ron to indulge in magic on every little thing.

    Harry reveled in the joy of the trace disappearing, he let Ron's things fly around the room, and the piglet woke up and flapped his wings excitedly in the cage. Harry also tried to magically tie his sneakers (it took his hands several minutes to untangle the lump), and then, purely for fun, he took Ron's orange team from those Chadley Cannon posters. The robe turned bright blue.

    "I'm going to deal with your pants zipper with my bare hands." Ron warned Harry, Harry checked quickly, and Ron giggled. "This is a present for you. Let's unwrap it here, but I can't show it to my mother."

    "A book?" Harry said, taking the rectangular package, "It's a bit of a farewell to tradition, isn't it?"

    "This is no ordinary book," said Ron, "it's a lot of gold: Twelve Secrets to Fascinating Witches," explains what you need to know about girls All things. If I had this book last year, I'd know how to get rid of Lavender and how to get close to it...Ahem, Fred and George gave me one, and I figured out a lot. You'll Surprisingly, and not all need to use a wand. Good morning, Hermione, Gwen."

    The two witches were looking at the two silly boys with complicated eyes, each said a happy birthday, put down the birthday present, and left ruthlessly.

    Gwen didn't know where Hermione went, and she was always very busy these days. She turned her head and went to ask her dear boyfriend, what are the twelve magic weapons for fascinated witches.

    Long before Charlie, Lupin, Tonks, and Hagrid arrived, Harry's birthday party crowded the Burrow kitchen to the point of exploding, so he spent some time in the garden table. Fred and George used magic to conjure a large number of purple lanterns to hang over the heads of the guests. A dazzling number gleamed on the lantern: "17". Thanks to Mrs. Weasley's meticulous care, George's wound was smooth and smooth, but Gwen couldn't bear to look at the dark hole in the side of his head, even though the twins made a lot of jokes about it.

    Hermione sprayed purple and gold banners from the top of her wand, hanging artistically from trees and bushes.

    "Good," said Ron in admiration, watching Hermione's last wave of her wand turning the leaves of the sand fruit tree golden, "you really have a knack for this."

    "Thank you, Ron!" said Hermione, looking both pleased and confused. Harry turned and snickered. Gwen had guessed that the book Ron might have learned had a chapter devoted to flattery.

    "Get out of the way, out of the way!" Mrs. Weasley shouted and walked through the garden door, a snitch the size of a balloon floating in front of her. It took Harry a few seconds to realize it was his birthday cake. Mrs. Weasley used her wand to keep him suspended, rather than risk carrying it across the rough ground. When the cake finally settled in the center of the table, Harry said, "That's wonderful, Mrs Weasley."

    "Oh, nothing, dear," said Mrs. Weasley lovingly. Ron gave Harry two thumbs up behind her and lip-mouthed: Good.

    These glib boys. Gwen gave Fred and George a bitter look, thinking that they were the ones who had taught them badly.

    At seven o'clock the guests came, and Fred and George greeted them at the end of the path and led them into the house. Hagrid, to show his respect, put on his best furry brown suit, which was horribly ugly. Lupin seemed unhappy when he shook hands with Harry, though smiling. This is really strange. Because the Tonks beside him looked simply radiant.

    "Happy birthday, Harry," Tonks said, hugging him tightly.

    "Seventeen, isn't it?" Hagrid said as he took a keg-sized glass of wine from Fred, "We met six years ago today, Harry, do you remember?"

    "A little bit," said Harry, looking up at him with a grin. "Did you smash the door, give Dudley a pig's tail, and tell me I'm a wizard?"

    "I don't remember the exact details." Hagrid giggled. The half-giant dug out a little furry drawstring bag in his pocket, with a long strap attached to it, apparently meant to be hung around his neck. "Donkey skins. No matter what is hidden in it, only the owner can take it out. It's rare, this thing."

    "Thank you, Hagrid!"

    "Nothing." Hagrid waved a hand the size of a trash can lid. "Yo, here comes Charlie! I've always liked him—hey! Charlie!"

    Charlie came over, reluctantly stroking his freshly cut, horribly short hair. He was shorter than Ron and stocky, with burns and scratches on his muscular arms.

    "Hi Hagrid, is everything okay?"

    "I wanted to write to you for a long time. How is Norbert?"

    "Nob?" Charlie laughed. "That Norwegian Ridgeback? We call it Nobetta now."

    "What - Norbert is a girl?"

    "Yeah," Charlie said.

    "How can you tell?" Hermione asked