Hogwarts Lion Girl

Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains into the burrow, casting spots of light on the slightly mottled wooden floor.

However, this warm light could not dispel the depressing atmosphere in the house.

Summer vacation is coming to an end, which means the happy time of playing is coming to an end, and is replaced by piles of homework and the upcoming new semester.

Fred and George slumped listlessly on the sofa in the living room. The weird jokes and pranks they usually played had lost their former vitality.

Ron was flipping through his Transfiguration textbook with an anxious look on his face, muttering to himself, trying to cram those complicated spells and gestures into his head.

Even Ginny, who was usually lively and active, sat quietly by the window, fiddling with a fluffy toy snake in her hand, but her eyes looked a little empty.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was busy preparing breakfast, the bacon sizzling in the pan and the air filled with the sweet aroma of food.

However, Mr. Weasley seemed to have no intention of enjoying this rare holiday breakfast. He had a frown on his face and was holding a letter from the Ministry of Magic tightly in his hand. The purple seal on the envelope was particularly eye-catching.

"Arthur, what's wrong? What did the letter from the Ministry of Magic say?" Mrs. Weasley placed a plate of golden toast on the dining table, noticed her husband's abnormal expression, and asked with concern.

"It's an urgent message, Molly." Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and handed the letter to his wife. "They need me to rush back to the Ministry of Magic immediately. It seems that there is an emergency."

"Emergency?" Mrs. Weasley took the letter and her face became serious. "But today is Sunday..."

"I know, but the situation is urgent. I have to rush back immediately." Mr. Weasley said, and he quickly walked to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "I will deal with things as soon as possible and try to be back for dinner."

Green flames rose in the fireplace, and Mr. Weasley's figure disappeared in the flames, leaving only the anxious Mrs. Weasley and the children looking at each other.

……

The air in the Ministry of Magic was dull and oppressive, filled with the scent of ancient magic and thick parchment.

Mr. Weasley hurried through the magnificent corridors of the Ministry of Magic, politely responding to greetings from familiar wizards, but his furrowed brow still revealed his inner anxiety.

He eventually found Amos Diggory, head of the Improper Use of Magic Office, in a slightly messy office.

Mr. Diggory was a short, fat man with sparse hair on his head. He was buried in a pile of documents, and a delicate quill was dancing rapidly in his hand.

"Ah, Weasley, you're here." Mr. Diggory said without looking up, with a hint of impatience in his tone, "We've run into a little trouble about your old friend, Alastor Moody."

Mr. Weasley's heart sank when he heard the name "Moody".

He knew the old Auror's temper too well, like a bomb that could explode at any time.

"What's wrong with Moody?" Mr. Weasley tried to keep his tone calm.

"This morning, we received a complaint from Moody's residence." Mr. Diggory finally put down the quill in his hand and rubbed his swollen temples. "It seems that someone broke into his yard, and then... well, things got a little bad."

"Bad? Bad in what way?" Mr. Weasley demanded, with a sense of foreboding in his heart.

"According to witnesses, the intruders were ambushed by trash cans." Mr. Diggory had a strange look on his face. "Yes, you heard it right, the trash cans. Those trash cans seemed to come alive, exploding violently, spewing out all kinds of garbage, burying the poor intruders underneath."

Mr. Weasley couldn't help but gasp. He knew that Moody had set up all kinds of magical traps to protect his residence, but using a trash can to attack an intruder was too exaggerated.

"I've sent someone to take care of it," Mr. Diggory continued, "but the thing is, Moody is starting his new job at Hogwarts today, you know, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He absolutely cannot afford to get into any trouble right now."

"I understand." Mr. Weasley nodded heavily, "I will do my best to handle this matter for him."

"That's good, that's good." Mr. Diggory was visibly relieved. "You know, Moody has a criminal record. We must proceed with caution."

Mr. Weasley walked out of Diggory's office with mixed feelings.

He knew that Moody's protection was not without reason, but such extreme behavior would only get him into more trouble.

Mr. Weasley hastily produced a small notebook and made a note of the incident.

He knew that Moody's problem had to be resolved as soon as possible, otherwise the consequences would be disastrous.

He walked quickly to the owl post at the Ministry of Magic and released a brown-feathered owl with a message to Mrs. Weasley, telling her that he would not be able to take the children to King's Cross Station today.

After doing all this, Mr. Weasley hurriedly left the Ministry of Magic and rushed to Alastor Moody's residence.

The Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley came over from the stove with a pot of steaming oatmeal, a look of weariness and worry on her face.

The chirping of the children gave her a headache, but she suppressed her displeasure and said softly, "Okay, children, hurry up and have breakfast. After breakfast we still have to go to King's Cross Station."

As Mrs. Weasley finished her words, a brown owl fluttered down onto the dining table and knocked over Ron's glass of milk.

The children suddenly became quiet, all their eyes fixed on the letter tied to the owl's leg.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and recognized that this was an envelope specially used for owls from the Ministry of Magic. She untied the letter and quickly glanced through it, and the worry that was already on her face deepened a little.

"What's wrong, Mum?" Fred asked in a low voice, with a hint of barely perceptible excitement in his tone, "Is there anything interesting happening at the Ministry of Magic again?"

"Don't talk nonsense, Fred." Mrs. Weasley glared at him, then turned to the children and said in a heavy tone, "It's your father. He has something to do today and can't take us to the station."

"What's the matter?" George demanded. "More important than sending us to school?"

"It's Moody, our old friend," Mrs. Weasley sighed, "He got into some trouble and your father had to go and help deal with it."

"Mom, what happened to Uncle Moody?" Bill put down the fork in his hand, frowned slightly, and there was a hint of worry in his tone.