Although she still didn't know where the house-elf called Dobby had come from, that didn't stop Eda from taking his warning to heart.
Three years of studying and living at Hogwarts had taught Eda not to view problems through ordinary logic—anything could happen in the wizarding world, and even at the very last moment, one might still not know the full truth.
The unknown is humanity's greatest fear, but the vague danger in this warning didn't make Eda feel afraid. When soldiers come, use soldiers to block them; when floodwaters come, use earth to stop them—as long as she was prepared to respond, such danger could only become an unforgettable memory in her life.
If this really was just some unlucky kid's prank, then all the better—that would be the best outcome, and Eda could have a peaceful school year.
A faint red glow appeared on the eastern horizon, and the car was getting closer and closer to the Burrow.
When patches of farmland and clusters of trees began forming dark patterns below, Fred lowered the car in preparation for landing.
"St. Catchpole Village," George said. "We're almost home."
Under Fred's control, the Ford Anglia landed beside the Burrow's rickety old garage. Harry looked around in fascination—he thought this place was absolutely wonderful!
As she stepped out of the car, Eda felt a bad premonition. Daylight was now bright and clear, which meant Mrs. Weasley was very likely already awake—and they were about to be discovered.
Sure enough, Eda's bad premonition proved, as always, to be right—Mrs. Weasley had already come out of the house.
Her presence alone sent the chickens in the yard scattering, and the plump, kind-faced woman once again transformed into a tiger that could shake the mountains.
Eda and Fred and George immediately lowered their heads, adopting the attitude of honestly admitting their mistakes. Ron, with less experience, simply stared straight at his mother as she stepped toward them, one step at a time.
Mrs. Weasley stopped in front of them, hands on her hips, scrutinizing each guilty face in turn. She wore a floral apron, with a wand tucked into the pocket.
Whether it was the twins, Ron, or Eda, all of them were taller than Mrs. Weasley—but when she was angry, everyone felt like a frail little chick, trembling before her.
Her anger, along with all the worry she'd been holding in, erupted the instant she saw the children. She jabbed a finger into the chests of her three sons, shouting loudly about how she ought to wallop them.
Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Eda. Eda put on a deliberately casual expression and said, "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley."
"I'm so disappointed in you!" Mrs. Weasley tapped Eda's smooth forehead again and again. "I thought you would stop them from their nonsense. I thought that even if you didn't stop them, you'd at least be in bed, asleep like a good girl. But you—!"
Though she was being scolded by Mrs. Weasley, oddly enough, Eda didn't actually feel in a bad mood.
Seeing that Eda had finally shown her "fox tail" in front of Mrs. Weasley, the twins secretly high-fived behind her. Watching Eda stand there in silence while being scolded somehow made them both feel much better.
It felt like several hours had passed before Mrs. Weasley finally shouted herself hoarse and turned to Harry.
Harry took a few steps back—he'd already been completely cowed by Mrs. Weasley's presence.
But the scene Harry had imagined didn't happen at all, because Mrs. Weasley vividly demonstrated what it meant to have a double standard. This large-scale display of favoritism left the Weasley brothers practically choking on lemons.
"I'm so glad to see you, dear Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. "Come inside and have some breakfast."
When it came to other people's children, Mrs. Weasley treated them completely differently than her own. Not only was Harry spared any scolding, he was warmly welcomed.
Perhaps, in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, Harry hadn't made this mistake of his own accord—he must have been coerced by her own children. Or maybe it was simply the case of a mother-in-law looking at her future son-in-law—everything just seemed pleasing to the eye.
After saying this, Mrs. Weasley turned and went back inside. The twins and Eda quickly followed—after working all night, they were starving. At Ron's signal, Harry also stepped inside.
Eda, the twins, and Ron sat obediently in their seats eating breakfast. They didn't dare speak—if they opened their mouths, Mrs. Weasley would surely cut them off.
While everyone was quietly eating with their heads down, Ginny, who had just gotten up, came running into the kitchen in her pajamas. The instant she saw Harry, she let out a scream and bolted right back out.
With her hair uncombed and face unwashed, she'd just been seen in such a messy state by her crush—young Ginny simply couldn't handle such a fatal blow.
The heavy atmosphere in the kitchen lingered until Mr. Weasley came home. Cheerfully greeting the children, he was soon informed by his wife about what had happened the night before.
His children had secretly taken the car, flown it halfway across England, and brought Harry Potter back.
"Really?" Mr. Weasley asked with concern. "Did it fly well?"
Clearly, he wasn't angry at all about his children taking his car out in the middle of the night—he was far more interested in how his beloved little car had performed.
It was only after catching sight of his wife's murderous glare that Mr. Weasley hurriedly changed his tone and began lecturing the children.
The Weasley household had the classic "strict mother, gentle father" setup. Ever since arriving at the Burrow, Eda had never seen Mr. Weasley lose his temper. She only knew of one time he had—when Fred had tricked Ron into making an Unbreakable Vow.
After an entire night of chaos—flying from Devon to Surrey and back—everyone was exhausted, but they weren't allowed to go to bed. Mrs. Weasley punished them by making them go out and de-gnome the garden.
The twins and Ron had no choice but to muster their energy and go to war with the garden gnomes.
Harry wasn't punished; he was allowed to rest. But, fascinated by everything in the Burrow, he didn't go to bed—instead, in a very loyal move, he joined the Weasley brothers in the garden.
This earned him even more praise from Mrs. Weasley. Truly, international champion of double standards, Molly Weasley.
In the garden, the four boys sent gnomes flying in all directions. Eda, too, wasn't allowed to rest, but she didn't go to the garden either. Right after breakfast, she shamelessly slipped away. Sometimes, running away might be disgraceful—but it works!
At this moment, Eda was hiding in the small room behind the bar of the Leaky Cauldron.
Leaning her weight against the wall, eyes closed, her head kept drooping lower and lower. This wasn't just slacking off anymore—Eda had actually fallen asleep, right in front of her boss. Maintaining a standing position was probably the last shred of respect she had left for her job.
Shriveled like a dried walnut, old Tom suddenly appeared beside her. Naturally, he couldn't just stand by and watch his employee treat her work with such an attitude, so he gave a loud, deliberate clearing of his throat.
The sound startled Eda awake. In her fluster, she accidentally knocked the glass from Tom's hand.
Old Tom clutched his chest in distress.
That glass—oh, it pained him to see it fall! He looked at Eda, then at the "corpse" of the glass on the floor. Sure, it could be fixed with magic, but oh, how he longed to dock her pay!
Now fully awake, Eda straightened her back, walked back to the bar, and threw herself into her waitress duties once more. Her gaze swept from customer to customer—she was looking for someone. At the start of the holiday, she had noticed there was someone in the bar keeping an eye on her.
It was something she'd discovered by accident. At first, she only had the vague feeling of being watched. She hadn't paid much attention to it—after all, she'd had people stare at her before. The Leaky Cauldron was full of all sorts, and the occasional clueless creep was nothing unusual.
But when that feeling of being watched kept coming back again and again, her wariness kicked in. Whether she wanted to ignore it or not, she couldn't. So she started paying closer attention to the bar's patrons, trying to figure out exactly who was keeping her under observation.
Gradually, Eda narrowed her suspects down to three people. Two of them were fairly ordinary, down-on-their-luck middle-aged wizards. They would drop by the bar from time to time and order two glasses of rum.
Every time Eda walked past them, all she heard was dull chatter about mundane family matters. But the moment she moved away, their eyes would follow her, tracking her every move.
The last was an unremarkable-looking young witch—except there was something odd about her. Her behavior didn't quite make sense to Eda. When the two wizards weren't in the bar, the witch's attention would focus on Eda. But whenever the two men showed up, the witch's gaze would shift to them instead.
It made the young witch seem more like she was there for those two men, not to keep watch on Eda.
From the looks of it, the witch had probably only just graduated not long ago. She lacked experience, which was how Eda noticed her first—and then, by following the thread, discovered the two wizards.
From her observations, Eda concluded that they weren't working together; they likely came from different factions. She was dying to know why they were all watching her, but she couldn't just walk up and demand answers—doing so would only alert them and achieve nothing.
So, Eda made a somewhat reckless decision: she would take a risk and use herself as bait to lure them into making a move.
For that purpose, she stopped using Floo Powder to return to the Burrow, instead walking a stretch of Charing Cross Road alone to give her watchers a chance to act. That way, she'd have a legitimate reason to confront them.
But they never took the bait. It seemed they were only there to keep her under surveillance, with no intention of making a move against her.
The almost eerie style of monitoring left Eda completely baffled. What puzzled her even more was that, starting from the end of July, the two middle-aged wizards stopped coming to the Leaky Cauldron altogether—vanished as if off the face of the earth.
The young witch did turn up a few more times, but after a handful of visits, she too stopped showing up.
With all three of them gone, the sense of being watched disappeared as well. Everything returned to normal.
Today was no different—still no sign of the three. The bar was filled with ordinary patrons.
Eda almost felt like she'd developed a case of persecution paranoia, as though the whole thing had been nothing more than her imagination.
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