Harry Potter: Glory of the King

Harry had intended to gently throw the first goblin caught, but the goblin bit his fingers with sharp teeth, and finally Harry had to throw it out abruptly.

"Wow, Harry—you must be fifty feet if you take it!"

The goblins in the garden soon flew all over the sky. Ona dealt with the goblins naturally, and he threw them far away easily. Fred was stunned. George soon discovered that only Ron and Harry were addicted to it. Look down.

"Oh, it's okay." Ron, who realized later, listened to the two people talking excitedly for a while, then said flatly. "Ona knows Chinese Kungfu, I feel weird if I can't do it!"

Harry also nodded, and to be honest, Ona did more than half of the work alone.

Watching a group of goblins walk away in a sparse line, Ron said, "They will come back. Dad is too tolerant to them. He thinks they are very interesting..."

At this moment, the door banged.

"Back!" George said, "Dad is back!"

They hurried back to the house through the garden.

Mr. Weasley slumped on the kitchen chair, took off his glasses and closed his eyes. Mr. Weasley was a thin man, a little flattered, but his remaining hair was as red as his children's. He was dressed in a green robe and looked like a dusty man.

"It's really choking, this morning." He muttered, reaching out to touch the teapot, and the children sat down beside him. "The last time I checked nine, there is still one in today's assault. Last time the old fellow Mondungus Fletcher wanted to use magic on me when I turned around, this time this guy almost really hit! "

Mr. Weasley took a sip of tea and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did you find anything, Dad?" Fred asked eagerly.

"What can there be? Last time there were some shrinking door keys and a teapot that could bite people. This time I made a trip for nothing." Mr. Weasley said gloomily, "There are also some troublesome things. , But it’s not under the control of my department. Last time I found some very weird ferrets at Mortlake’s house. He was taken for questioning. He hasn’t come back yet. It’s also inexplicable today, but it’s a spell experiment. About the committee, thank goodness..."

"Why does anyone want to make a key that shrinks?" George asked.

"Trick those Muggles," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Sold a key to Muggles. In the end, the key was shrunk to nowhere. When you want to use it, you can't find it...Of course, it's hard to convince anyone, because there is no hemp. The melons will admit that their keys are shrinking and shrinking-they will insist that they are lost. These Muggles, they can always turn a blind eye to magic, even if it is clearly in front of them...those who can be enchanted by our people Something, you can't believe it..."

"Like a car, right?" Mrs. Weasley came over, holding a poker in her hand, like a sword. Mr. Weasley opened his mouth and looked at his wife with a guilty conscience.

"Ah, that... Molly, I can explain it!" Mr. Weasley yelled out of his mind. He was going to pick up Harry and Ona with Molly in the morning, but there was something temporary and he could only agree with Fred and George. Volunteer to answer their request, unexpectedly they actually drove his precious car out-but also, other than this, how else to answer it?

"Hmm, Arthur, I'm listening." Molly Weasley had fire in her eyes. "Think about it. A wizard bought a rusty old car and told his wife that he just wanted to take it down. Open, look at the internal structure, but he actually turned it into a flying car with magic."

Arthur Weasley blinked: "Oh, dear, I think you will find that he did not violate the law, although he should probably tell his wife the truth in advance... There is a loophole in the law, you will find... As long as he doesn’t plan to fly with it, the fact that the car can fly doesn’t..."

"Arthur Weasley! You deliberately left a loophole when you wrote the law!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, "Just to tinker with those Muggle things in your shed! Tell you, today When Fred and the others drove your car into the sky in the morning, I almost reported to the Ministry of Magic! Fortunately they picked Harry and Ona back in peace!"

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked blankly. "Which Harry? And Ona?"

He looked around, saw Harry, and immediately jumped up: "God, is it Harry Potter? Very happy to meet you, Ron told us so much about you..."

"Your son drove that car in the morning and flew to Harry's house to pick him up!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "What do you have to say, huh?"

"Really?" Mr. Weasley asked hurriedly, "Does it fly well? I...I mean..." Seeing the anger in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, he quickly changed his words, "This is very wrong. Yes, children, very, very wrong..."

Mrs. Weasley puffed up her chest like a bullfrog.

Ron hurriedly pulled Harry and Ona, with the excuse of going back to see his room, and then slipped away. George and Fred saw that the situation was not good, so they smeared the soles of their feet and left the poor Mr. Weasley alone. Bear the anger of Mrs. Weasley.

They walked out of the kitchen, crossed the narrow aisle, and came to an uneven staircase. The stairs circled twists and turns, and on the third landing, a door was ajar. As soon as Harry caught a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him, the door closed with a click.

"It's Ginny," Ron said. "You don't know. It's incredible that she is so shy. She never closes the door..."

They climbed two more flights of stairs and came to a door with peeling paint. There was a small sign on the door that said Ron's room.

They walked in, the sloping ceiling almost touched Harry's head-Ona had been prepared and bent over to enter. They felt a little dazzling as soon as they entered, as if they had walked into a large stove-everything in Ron's room looked a dazzling orange, the bedspread, the walls and even the ceiling. Ron pasted almost every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters. All the posters were the same seven witches and wizards, dressed in bright orange robes, carrying a flying broom, and waving happily.

"Which Quidditch team is this?" Harry asked.

"Chadley Artillery." Ron pointed to the two huge letter C on the bedspread and a flying cannonball. "The club ranks ninth."

Ron’s magic textbooks are piled in a mess in the corner of the room. Next to them are some comic books. They all seem to be "The Adventures of Mad Muggle Martin Miggs." Ron’s wand is resting on a large fish bowl on the windowsill. He raised a lot of frog eggs, and his gray-haired plump rat snoring lying in a patch of sunlight beside the fish tank.

Ona looked at it inexplicably, wondering if he could be dealt with this year.