Chronicles Of Arth: Prince Of Shadows

"Holy god, Arth! You are a natural born Chaser!" Said Charlie with a wide grin. "If I had you in my team back when I was captain, we would've been invulnerable. Do you play quidditch at all?"

Arth shook his head.

"Well then you should bloody start next year!"

"Why next year? Why not start this year?" Asked Harry with a curious look.

Arth had an aha moment.

"Is it because of the event that they are holding at Hogwarts this year?"

"Yep, they had to cancel it."

"Makes sense."

"What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing."

The next day, Arth's Parents came in for a visit at the Burrow.

"My god Molly! You look well!"

"Oh hush Maxwell, you always never cease to flatter."

"It's been too long Molly, I have missed you."

"Yes it has."

Arth's father shook hands with Mr.

Weasley while Mrs. Weasley and his mother exchanged fearsome hugs.

"How is work these days?" Asked Maxwell with a small smile.

"Hectic, utter chaos. Howlers coming in every day. Reporters causing a commotion at the front of the ministry demanding answers. doesn't help that Rita Skeeter is fanning the flames." Said Mr. Weasley with a weary look. "Absolutely no time for rest at all. How about yours?"

"Not as bad as yours," said Maxwell with a sigh, "however still tiring. Some extremist Soviet wizards caused a massive incident in an American town. Took at least a month to track down and obliviate all the muggles who where involved. At least it was better than the Persian gulf war three years ago. Iraqi wizards attempted to explode an entire country in an attempt to stop the Americans. Complete psychopaths! Took us two years to find them all and send them to Azkaban."

Maxwell waved his arms in disgust.

"Did you know what they did to the children? They put the imperius curse on them and had them walk around with bombs attached to their-"

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley, interrupting the argument. "Come on now, all of you. . . ."

"Oh, Arthur. Come here," said Aria. "While we were in London, me and your father decided to buy your materials for school this year. Where is Scarlett? I have her stuff too."

As if being summoned, Hermione and Scarlett walked into the house.

Scarlett did a double take at the sight of Mrs. Kingscrown while Hermione froze.

"Maman?"

"Oh my beautiful darling! Come over here and give your mother a kiss!"

Scarlett complied.

"And good to meet you Hermione. . . . Scarlett has told me many things about you."

"Maman! You said you wouldn't say that!"

"Maman can say whatever she wants."

Mrs. Kingscrown knelt down and said something into Hermione that only the girls could hear. Arth knew it was something personal as Hermione went a deep shade of red while Scarlett looked livid.

"Maman! I thought you were on my side!"

"I take no side my darling. Love is a battleground. If you want to win it, you better step up your game."

"But Maman!"

The three boys decided to head up the stairs and into Ron's room.

Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, began twittering and zooming around his cage when they entered. The sight of the half-packed trunks seemed to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement.

"Bung him some Owl Treats," said Ron, throwing a packet across to Harry. "It might shut him up."

Harry poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of Pigwidgeon's cage.

"It's been over a week," Harry said, looking at Hedwig's deserted perch. "Ron, you don't reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?"

"Nah, it would've been in the Daily Prophet," said Ron. "The Ministry would want to show they'd caught someone, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah, I suppose. . . ."

"You still worrying about your dream?"

Harry had seen a dream about Lord Voldemort, an apparently undying evil wizard who had a thing for killing little babies. Worried that something evil was going on, Harry had written to Sirius Black, Dark magic pro, former prisoner, convict on the loose, Harry's godfather for advice.

So far, there was no reply.

"It'll be alright Harry. Look, here's the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley. And she's got some gold out of your vault for you . . . and she's washed all your socks."

Ron heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry's camp bed and dropped the money bag and a load of socks next to it. Harry started un- wrapping the shopping.

Arth decided to check his materials too and opened the briefcase that his parents had brought him.

"What is this supposed to be?"

He was holding up a long, maroon velvet dress robe. The only thing that was bad, was that the dress robe had a moldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes.

"Here you are," she said, sorting them into two piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," said Ron, handing it out to her.

"Er. . . . Actually Ron, those are dress robes. For men."

"What?" said Ron, looking horror-struck.

"Dress robes!" repeated Mrs. Weasley. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year . . . robes for formal occasions."

"You've got to be kidding," said Ron in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way."

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly.

"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too . . . show him, Harry. . . ."

Harry opened the last parcel on his camp bed. However, his dress robes didn't have any lace on them at all — in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.

"I thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly.

"Well, they're okay!" said Ron angrily, looking at Harry's robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because . . . well, I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.

"Didn't Arth's parents give us loads of money?"

"Well. . . . We spent a lot on tickets for the World Cup. . . ."

"I'm never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go n.a.k.e.d. And, Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pigwidgeon's beak.

"I can make you a Robe for you if you want," said Arth with a little bit of pity in his eyes. "As an early Christmas Gift."