"George! What happened to your hand?" Mrs. Weasley grabbed George's wrist and asked anxiously, "Why is it so black? Have you been cursed?"
George's eyes darted around as he deliberately let out a pained groan. "Ow! Yes, Mum! It really hurts now!"
Mrs. Weasley grew even more worried. "Merlin's beard! We're going back at once, to St—"
Fred feigned agony, clutching his head and moaning, "Mum, me too! We're both so—"
"Mum, don't listen to Fred and George!" Ginny bluntly exposed her brothers' trick. "Their hands only turned black because they set off too many Magic Fireworks."
"Hm?" Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows shot up. She caught George's retreating wrist and sniffed it, immediately shouting sternly, "George! Fred!"
"Mum! Let us explain!" Fred and George raised their hands with sheepish grins. "We were dealing with bad guys!"
Harry laughed merrily nearby, but Hermione felt as though she could not quite fit into the atmosphere.
She looked hopefully toward the doorway, but after Lupin came in, Rita Skeeter and the photographer had blocked it completely.
They were too busy snapping pictures frantically, the flashes crackling away, and it did not seem as though anyone else was coming in.
Just as Hermione turned her head aside and let out a long sigh, a voice she knew better than any other—her parents'—came from the doorway. "Ms. Skeeter, could you move aside?"
"Thank goodness... thank goodness you're all right! Thank goodness!" Mr. and Mrs. Granger hurried forward, cradling Hermione's cheeks as they examined her from every angle.
A happy smile spread across Hermione's face, though her eyes had begun to glisten. "Dad! Mum! Why are you here?"
"We heard from Mrs. Weasley..." Mr. Granger replied. "Something happened here! Of course we had to come!"
Mrs. Granger's voice was full of tenderness. "Darling, you must have been