Saturday, 28 September. The Burrow. {open to all}
After yesterday's adventures with young Charlie, Arthur felt a powerful need to keep out of Molly's way on Saturday morning. Staying in the same room with her while she cooked and cleaned and washed would mean conversation. And if he took part in a conversation, the subject of Charlie was bound to come up. And if the subject of Charlie came up, so too would his excursion to the Malfoys.
And Arthur isn't sure that he can talk about that yet without exploding with temper.
So he buried his nose in the Prophet over breakfast, noting that that blustering fool Fudge is making an idiot of himself again, and that Puddlemere United's chances are rated very highly for their match today, and then escapes as soon as is decently possible for the peaceful sanctuary of his workshop.
He's only halfway across the yard towards the shed though, when the most horrible caterwauling starts up from the garden. It sounds something like meouw-wow-wow-arrgh-rooowwwr-geroff.
Curious, he alters direction.
Bonsai is sitting in the middle of the lawn, frozen into statue stillness except for his tail, which is going swish-swish-swish. His nose is switching, sniffing the air, and he is looking very intently at something in the hedge.
Arther pauses by the gatepost, waiting to see what happens next.
Bonsai drops low into a crouch, still gazing at the unseen intruder in the hedge. His hindquarters begin to wiggle, gathering momentum, and then suddenly he bounds forward towards the hedge at great velocity. It looks for all the world as if he's going to go straight through it, and Arthur imagines having to bring back a scraped and partly de-furred kneazle for Molly to nurse, but at the last moment Bonsai veers off, takes a couple of bouncing steps parallel to the hedge, and then rolls, paws wide and eagerly embracing his prey.
Again the wails and squeaky rahwring sounds of a half-grown kitten. Again, the frantic struggle and grumbling of a fully grown gnome. Eventually the gnome struggles free, and backs away, keeping its eyes on the kitten which stalks after it with feline dignity as it pushes backwards through the gap in the hedge. Bonsai watches it go, and then sits up tall again, ears and nose twitching, head turning slowly from side to side as he seeks out another of those strange odd creatures to escort off his territory.
Ah, thinks Arthur. Here's the perfect task to fill his day. He can both keep out of the way of the family, and get himself into Molly's good books by undertaking a job that she complains that her husband and children don't get around to nearly often enough.
"Good boy," he says approvingly to Bonsai, stroking the kneazle's upturned grey-striped head. A small rough nose rubs against his fingers briefly, then is replaced by a little wet tongue, and then Bonsai drops his head, all business once more. "Let's see if we can do a proper de-gnoming of this place today, shall we?"
And Arthur isn't sure that he can talk about that yet without exploding with temper.
So he buried his nose in the Prophet over breakfast, noting that that blustering fool Fudge is making an idiot of himself again, and that Puddlemere United's chances are rated very highly for their match today, and then escapes as soon as is decently possible for the peaceful sanctuary of his workshop.
He's only halfway across the yard towards the shed though, when the most horrible caterwauling starts up from the garden. It sounds something like meouw-wow-wow-arrgh-rooowwwr-geroff.
Curious, he alters direction.
Bonsai is sitting in the middle of the lawn, frozen into statue stillness except for his tail, which is going swish-swish-swish. His nose is switching, sniffing the air, and he is looking very intently at something in the hedge.
Arther pauses by the gatepost, waiting to see what happens next.
Bonsai drops low into a crouch, still gazing at the unseen intruder in the hedge. His hindquarters begin to wiggle, gathering momentum, and then suddenly he bounds forward towards the hedge at great velocity. It looks for all the world as if he's going to go straight through it, and Arthur imagines having to bring back a scraped and partly de-furred kneazle for Molly to nurse, but at the last moment Bonsai veers off, takes a couple of bouncing steps parallel to the hedge, and then rolls, paws wide and eagerly embracing his prey.
Again the wails and squeaky rahwring sounds of a half-grown kitten. Again, the frantic struggle and grumbling of a fully grown gnome. Eventually the gnome struggles free, and backs away, keeping its eyes on the kitten which stalks after it with feline dignity as it pushes backwards through the gap in the hedge. Bonsai watches it go, and then sits up tall again, ears and nose twitching, head turning slowly from side to side as he seeks out another of those strange odd creatures to escort off his territory.
Ah, thinks Arthur. Here's the perfect task to fill his day. He can both keep out of the way of the family, and get himself into Molly's good books by undertaking a job that she complains that her husband and children don't get around to nearly often enough.
"Good boy," he says approvingly to Bonsai, stroking the kneazle's upturned grey-striped head. A small rough nose rubs against his fingers briefly, then is replaced by a little wet tongue, and then Bonsai drops his head, all business once more. "Let's see if we can do a proper de-gnoming of this place today, shall we?"