WEBVTT

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<v Speaker 1>Husu Studios. Hello there, welcome back to Muggle Snuggle Why Nichel,

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<v Speaker 1>And this is a boring Harry Potter podcast to make

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<v Speaker 1>you sleep to night. We are continuing our journey through

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<v Speaker 1>the Chamber of Secrets. We left Harry locked in his

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<v Speaker 1>room at the Dursleys, with the little house elf named

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby sitting on his bed whispering terrible warnings about going

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<v Speaker 1>back to school. So just close your eyes, settle inn.

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<v Speaker 1>There is no rush. We have all night to night.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry gets rescued. Last time we met Dobby, a strange,

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<v Speaker 1>sad little creature who had been hiding in Harry's room

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<v Speaker 1>for months, watching him, worrying about him. Dobby begged Harry

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<v Speaker 1>not to return to Hogwart's. He said there was a plot,

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<v Speaker 1>a terrible dangerous plot, and if Harry went back, he

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<v Speaker 1>would be in mortal Beryl. Harry did not believe him,

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<v Speaker 1>not really, and Dobby, in his desperation, decided to take

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<v Speaker 1>matters into his own hands. He stopped the letters from

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<v Speaker 1>reaching Harry. He made a pudding full on missus Vernon's head.

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<v Speaker 1>He tried everything to make the Dursley so angry that

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<v Speaker 1>they would never let Harry leave, and it worked. The

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<v Speaker 1>Dursleys locked Harry in his room, put bars on the windows,

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<v Speaker 1>and Uncle Vernon stood in the doorway with a terrible

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<v Speaker 1>grin and said, no more of those bloody letters. Harry

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<v Speaker 1>was trapped. Summer had become a prison. The unie window

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<v Speaker 1>was sealed with metal rods. His owl head Wait sat

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<v Speaker 1>in her cage, looking at him with those big amber eyes,

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<v Speaker 1>and there was nothing he could do, or so he believed.

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<v Speaker 1>Now let us drift into the night's story. Chapter two,

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<v Speaker 1>the burrough Harry lay on his mattress, staring at the

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<v Speaker 1>bars on his window. Four metal rods bolted firmly into

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<v Speaker 1>the wood. Outside. The sky was a deep, quiet blue,

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<v Speaker 1>the color of ink just before it dries. The Dursleys

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<v Speaker 1>were downstairs. He could hear the television murmuring its usual drone.

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<v Speaker 1>Aunt Petunia was in the garden, trimming something with her

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<v Speaker 1>pruning shears. The hedgehog Dudley had named sat on the

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<v Speaker 1>lawn like a little gray stone, not moving, not caring.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry sighed three more weeks, three more weeks of this

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<v Speaker 1>room of cold meals pushed through the cat flap in

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<v Speaker 1>the door of Headwig, rattling her cage and hooting softly

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<v Speaker 1>in the dark. He put his hand over his face

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<v Speaker 1>and breathed slowly in and out. The bars cast thin

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<v Speaker 1>shadows across the ceiling in the afternoon light, like the

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<v Speaker 1>stripes of some invisible animal pacing back and forth above him.

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<v Speaker 1>He picked up a magazine from the floor, a Muggle

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<v Speaker 1>magazine und Petunia had left it by accident. He flipped

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<v Speaker 1>through the pages without really seeing them, cars, cooking recipes,

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<v Speaker 1>advertisements for things nobody needed. He let the pages fall

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<v Speaker 1>open on his chest and stared at the ceiling again.

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<v Speaker 1>The house was quiet, too quiet. No Weasley letters, no

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<v Speaker 1>Hermione phone calls, just the hum of the refrigerator downstairs,

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<v Speaker 1>and the occasional creak of the house settling, like an

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<v Speaker 1>old person shifting in a chair. Then something tapped at

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<v Speaker 1>the window. Harry rolled over. There was nothing there, just

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<v Speaker 1>the sky, just the bars. He squinted, and then he

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<v Speaker 1>saw it, a large gray owl sitting on the sill

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<v Speaker 1>outside the bars, tapping one beak against the metal with

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<v Speaker 1>a soft, insistent rhythm, And behind it, further back, bobbing

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<v Speaker 1>gently in the evening air, something was floating, something that

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<v Speaker 1>looked very much like a car. It was orange, a

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<v Speaker 1>battered old forward anglia hovering silently over the back garden.

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<v Speaker 1>The paint was faded and scratched, the headlights flickered, and

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<v Speaker 1>inside it Harry could make out three faces. Man were red,

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<v Speaker 1>guinning faces pressed against the glass like children at a

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<v Speaker 1>sweet shop window. Fred and George Weasley and their brother Ron.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry scrambled to the window and pressed his face against

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<v Speaker 1>the glass. Ron gave him a big thumbs up. George

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<v Speaker 1>held up a pair of large bliers and waggled them

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<v Speaker 1>like a threat. Fred tapped the side of his nose

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<v Speaker 1>and winked that particular Fred and George wink that meant

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<v Speaker 1>something wonderful was about to happen. They were going to

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<v Speaker 1>break him out. It took a few minutes. George used

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<v Speaker 1>appliers on the bars while Fred kept watch from but

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<v Speaker 1>bolts squeaked and rattled, a high, thin sound that made

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<v Speaker 1>Harry's teeth ache. He heard Aunt Petunia slam something in

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<v Speaker 1>the kitchen. His heart hammered against his ribs like a

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<v Speaker 1>fist on a locked door. But George was strong, and

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<v Speaker 1>the bolts were old, and one by one the metal

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<v Speaker 1>rods came loose and fell unto the carpet. With soft,

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<v Speaker 1>satisfying thuds. Each one landed like a small victory ron

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<v Speaker 1>helped Harry climb through the window. The night air was

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<v Speaker 1>warm on Harry's face, the first real breath of outdoor

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<v Speaker 1>air he had breathed in weeks. It tasted of cut

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<v Speaker 1>grass and distant rain. He sat on the sill for

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<v Speaker 1>just a moment, feeling the breeze on his skin, the

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<v Speaker 1>cool touch of the stone against his palms, and then

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<v Speaker 1>he stepped into the flying car. The back seat was

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<v Speaker 1>lumpy and smelled faintly a frog spawn and old socks,

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<v Speaker 1>which was exactly what you would expect from a car

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<v Speaker 1>that belonged to Fred and George Weasley. Harry settled in,

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<v Speaker 1>and Fred rearthed the engine, and the car tilted upward

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<v Speaker 1>with a lurch, rising above the garden, above the roof,

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<v Speaker 1>above the chimney pots, until the Dursley's house was just

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<v Speaker 1>a small gray shape below them, and the street was

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<v Speaker 1>a ribbon of orange street lights, and the whole world

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<v Speaker 1>was quiet and open and full of sky. Harry laughed,

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<v Speaker 1>He could not help it. The wind whipped his hair

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<v Speaker 1>across his face. The stars were coming out, one by one,

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<v Speaker 1>like tiny silver pins in dark velvet, and below them,

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<v Speaker 1>England rolled out in patchwork fields and dark hedgerows, the

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<v Speaker 1>Muggle world going about its business, oblivious to the car

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<v Speaker 1>full of wizards flying over its rooftops. They flew north.

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<v Speaker 1>The car hummed steadily, the engine making a low, comforting pair,

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<v Speaker 1>like a cat that had found a warm spot on

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<v Speaker 1>the hearth. Rance sat next to Harry and told him

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<v Speaker 1>about his summer, about the ghoul in the attic that

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<v Speaker 1>had been coughing all night, and keeping Ginny awake, about

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<v Speaker 1>Mum being furious when they asked to use the car,

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<v Speaker 1>About Percy, who had been even more insufferable than usual,

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<v Speaker 1>walking around with his head boy badge like it was

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<v Speaker 1>a shield, About Ginny, who had not stopped talking about

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<v Speaker 1>Harry since term ended. He asked me about your owl,

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<v Speaker 1>Ron said, and whether you had got her a new cage,

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<v Speaker 1>and whether you were keeping well, and whether you had

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<v Speaker 1>heard anything about the Chamber of Secrets, and whether you

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<v Speaker 1>were wearing that same old shirt. She asked about everything, Harry, everything.

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<v Speaker 1>Fred and George in the front kept turning around to

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<v Speaker 1>make faces. They told jokes about Professor Snape. They made

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<v Speaker 1>rude noises about Percy. They were completely wonderfully chaotically themselves.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry felt something loosening in his chest, and not he

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<v Speaker 1>had not known he was carrying. It was relief, pure, simple,

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<v Speaker 1>delicious relief. He was not trapped any more, He was

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<v Speaker 1>not alone. He was flying through the night sky with

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<v Speaker 1>three boys who thought he was the most interesting person

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<v Speaker 1>they had ever met, and none of them wandered anything

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<v Speaker 1>from him except his company littles. The clouds parted and

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<v Speaker 1>the moon came through, fat and white and lazy, hanging

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<v Speaker 1>over the fields like a lantern left on by mistake.

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<v Speaker 1>The fields below were silver. The car's head lights cast

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<v Speaker 1>yellow beams across the under side of the cloud. Everything

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<v Speaker 1>felt soft, everything felt safe. The wind was warm, now,

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<v Speaker 1>carrying the smell of sheep and wild flowers and old wood.

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<v Speaker 1>And then Ron pointed down and said, there it is.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry looked below them. Nestled in a valley between two

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<v Speaker 1>gentle hills, there was a house. But it was not

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<v Speaker 1>quite a house. It was more like something that had grown,

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<v Speaker 1>a rambling, lop sided jumble of bricks and chimneys and

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<v Speaker 1>sagging roofs, leaning against each other like old friends supporting

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<v Speaker 1>one another after a long night. There were at least

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<v Speaker 1>five stories, each one added on top of the last

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<v Speaker 1>in a different style, a different shade of brick, a

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<v Speaker 1>different error. The roof tiles were mismatched, some red, some gray,

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<v Speaker 1>some the color of dried mud. A chimney stuck out

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<v Speaker 1>at an angle that seemed physically improbable, defying every rule

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<v Speaker 1>of architecture that Harry had ever ignored. The windows glowed

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<v Speaker 1>with warm yellow light, and the garden was a tangle

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<v Speaker 1>of flowers and herbs, and what appeared to be a

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<v Speaker 1>rubber chicken nailed to the fence. Welcome to the burrow,

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<v Speaker 1>ron said, and he sounded almost shy about it. The

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<v Speaker 1>car landed in the garden with a bump that rattled

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<v Speaker 1>Harry's teeth. A small, round woman came out of the

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<v Speaker 1>back door, wiping her hands on her apron. She had

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<v Speaker 1>red hair like all the Weasley's but hers, was pinned

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<v Speaker 1>up messily, and there was flower on her cheek, and

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<v Speaker 1>her slippers made a soft shuffling sound on the stone step.

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<v Speaker 1>Her face was kind, her eyes were sharp. Fred George

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<v Speaker 1>Ronald Weasley, what on earth are you lot up to?

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<v Speaker 1>Molly Weasley's voice could have silenced a thunderstorm. It could

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<v Speaker 1>have made a dragon sit down and behave Fred and

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<v Speaker 1>George froze Rn tried to explain, but Missus Wesley was

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<v Speaker 1>not listening. She pulled them all inside, one by one,

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<v Speaker 1>like a mother duck gathering her ducklings, and she stood

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<v Speaker 1>them in the kitchen, and she gave them all a

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<v Speaker 1>piece of her mind, which was a piece that came

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<v Speaker 1>in several very loud pieces. The kitchen was the heart

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<v Speaker 1>of the burrow. It was warm, it was cluttered, it

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<v Speaker 1>was alive. There were pots and pans hanging from the ceiling,

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<v Speaker 1>some of them gently swaying in a breeze that Harry

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<v Speaker 1>could not feel. A clock on the wall had nine hands,

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<v Speaker 1>each one pointing to a different place. Harry noticed that

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<v Speaker 1>one hand pointed to a small square marked mortal peril.

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<v Speaker 1>He tried not to stare at it. The sink was

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<v Speaker 1>full of dirty dishes. A kettle whistled on the stove,

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<v Speaker 1>a thin, shrill sound that missed wheezily, silenced with a

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<v Speaker 1>tap of her Wand there was a wooden table, scarred

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<v Speaker 1>and stained and full of character, with mismatched chairs around it.

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<v Speaker 1>A cat with a squashed face slept on the window sill,

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<v Speaker 1>its tail twitching in some dream of chase. The air

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<v Speaker 1>smelt of bread and something sweet like cinnamon and butter,

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<v Speaker 1>and the faint ghost of yesterday's roast chicken. A fire

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<v Speaker 1>crackled in the hearth, throwing orange light across the stone floor,

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<v Speaker 1>and then Arthur Weasley appeared. He came in from the doorway,

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<v Speaker 1>thin and balding, with glasses that were slightly crooked, and

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<v Speaker 1>a tie that was slightly crooked, and a look on

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<v Speaker 1>his face like a child who had just been told

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<v Speaker 1>Christmas was coming early. He was wearing a dressing gown

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<v Speaker 1>over his were clothes, and his socks did not match

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<v Speaker 1>Harry Potter, he said, breathing the name like it was

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<v Speaker 1>something sacred, something precious, something he had been waiting his

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<v Speaker 1>whole life to say out loud. I cannot tell you

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<v Speaker 1>how delighted I am to meet you. Tell me what

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<v Speaker 1>is the exact function of a rubber duck? Harry blinked,

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<v Speaker 1>Ron sighed, Fred and George grinned, and Missus Wesley told

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<v Speaker 1>Arthur to stop being ridiculous and sit down for dinner. Honestly, Arthur,

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<v Speaker 1>she said, the boy has just climbed through a window.

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<v Speaker 1>Let him eat first. They ate, Missus Weesley had made

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<v Speaker 1>shepherd's past and there was crusty bread and butter and

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<v Speaker 1>a big pot of tea. The pie was thick and

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<v Speaker 1>hot and full of vegetables that Harry could not quite identify,

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<v Speaker 1>but which tasted wonderful. There was gravy. There was mashed

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<v Speaker 1>potato with a golden crust. There were pickled onions in

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<v Speaker 1>a small jar that George kept reaching for, and Fred

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<v Speaker 1>kept slapping his hand away from Ginny. A small, red

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<v Speaker 1>haired girl with freckles like constellations scattered across her cheeks,

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<v Speaker 1>sat at the end of the table and stared at

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<v Speaker 1>Harry with enormous eyes and went completely red whenever he

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<v Speaker 1>looked her way. She was Ron's little sister, and she

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<v Speaker 1>had apparently had a crush on Harry Potter since the

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<v Speaker 1>age of nine, which was three years longer than Harry

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<v Speaker 1>had known she existed. Harry did not know what to

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<v Speaker 1>do about this, just smiled politely and ate his pie

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<v Speaker 1>and tried not to drop gravy on himself. Percy appeared briefly,

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<v Speaker 1>nodded at Harry with the air of someone who was

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<v Speaker 1>doing him a great favor by acknowledging his existence, and

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<v Speaker 1>then disappeared upstairs to write a letter to his girlfriend.

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<v Speaker 1>The twins made gagging noises behind his back. Missus Weasley

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<v Speaker 1>threw a tea towel at them. After dinner, Missus Weasley

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<v Speaker 1>showed Harry to Ron's room. It was small on the

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<v Speaker 1>top floor under the eaves. The room was warm and close,

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<v Speaker 1>like being inside a blanket, thought. The posters on the

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<v Speaker 1>walls showed racing broomsticks and Shutley Cannon's logos, and a

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<v Speaker 1>poster of a witch in a bathing suit that Harry

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<v Speaker 1>suspected was not official quidditch merchandise. The room was a

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<v Speaker 1>comfortable sort of mess, with clothes on the floor and

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<v Speaker 1>books on the desk, and a quaffle sitting in the corner,

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<v Speaker 1>like it had rolled there and decided to stay. You

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<v Speaker 1>can have my bed, Ron said, pointing to the bottom bunk.

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<v Speaker 1>I will take the camping bed. Harry tried to protest,

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<v Speaker 1>but Ron was already unfolding a camping bed that looked

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<v Speaker 1>far too narrow for a boy of his size, and

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<v Speaker 1>Missus Wesley was already tucking extra blankets around Harry's pillow.

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<v Speaker 1>And the house was warm and full of the sounds

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<v Speaker 1>of the Weasley family. Moving about, creaking floorboards and distant laughter,

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<v Speaker 1>and the soft murmur of the clock on the wall.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry lay in Ron's bed and listened. The house made noises.

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<v Speaker 1>A creek here had grown there, the wind outside pressed

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<v Speaker 1>against the windows gently, like someone testing the glass with

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<v Speaker 1>a finger tip. Hedwig, who had been brought up to

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<v Speaker 1>the room in her cage, rustled her feathers and made

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<v Speaker 1>a soft hooting sound, then settled down. The camping bed

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<v Speaker 1>creaked under Ron as he shifted, trying to find a

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<v Speaker 1>comfortable position in a space that was roughly the width

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<v Speaker 1>of a broomstick. Harry remembered Dobby about the warnings about

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<v Speaker 1>the plot. He remembered the bars on his winter and

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<v Speaker 1>how far away they seemed now, like something from a

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<v Speaker 1>dream he had already started to forget. He remembered Missus

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<v Speaker 1>Wesley's warm kitchen and Arthur's excited questions, and the way

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<v Speaker 1>Fred and George moved through the world like it was

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<v Speaker 1>their personal playground, a place made specifically for their entertainment.

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<v Speaker 1>And he thought about the house itself, the burrow. It

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<v Speaker 1>was not fancy, it was not ground. There was no marble,

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<v Speaker 1>no magic carpets, no enchanted ceiling. It was just a

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<v Speaker 1>house built by a family who loved each other, one

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<v Speaker 1>room at a time, one brick at a time, until

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<v Speaker 1>it leaned and bagged and groaned and felt more like

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<v Speaker 1>a home than any palace ever could. The Weaselas did

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<v Speaker 1>not have much money, but they had this. They had

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<v Speaker 1>the warm kitchen, and the mismatched chairs, and the cat

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<v Speaker 1>and the window sill, and the nine handed clock that

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<v Speaker 1>told you where everyone was and whether they were in

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<v Speaker 1>mortal peril, and that Harry thought was worth more than

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<v Speaker 1>all the gold and grinkots. Harry closed his eyes. The

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<v Speaker 1>mattress was soft beneath him. The blankets smelled of lavender,

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<v Speaker 1>or perhaps that was the sachet Missus Wesley had tucked

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<v Speaker 1>under the pillow. Somewhere downstairs, a door closed. Footsteps went

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<v Speaker 1>up the stairs, light and careful so as not to

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<v Speaker 1>wake anyone. The floor board outside Roun's door gave its

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<v Speaker 1>familiar groan. The car in the garden ticked as it cooled,

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<v Speaker 1>metal contracting in the night air. The moon moved slowly

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<v Speaker 1>behind a cloud, and the room went dark, then light again. Outside,

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<v Speaker 1>somewhere in the distance, an owl gold hedwig answered with

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<v Speaker 1>a soft, sleepy hoot. Harry slept, and in the morning

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<v Speaker 1>there would be toast and tea and the sound of

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<v Speaker 1>Ginny practicing spells in the garden, and Fred and George

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<v Speaker 1>launching fireworks from the roof, and Missus Weasley shouting from

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<v Speaker 1>the kitchen about someone leaving their shoes on the stairs.

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<v Speaker 1>There would be a whole day of being somewhere that

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<v Speaker 1>was not the Dursleys, a whole day of being somewhere

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<v Speaker 1>that was warm and safe and full of people who

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<v Speaker 1>cared about him. But that is for another night, and

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<v Speaker 1>that is where we will leave Harry to night, safe

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<v Speaker 1>in the burrow, warm in a real bed, in a

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<v Speaker 1>house full of love, surrounded by people who know he matters.

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<v Speaker 1>Sometimes the best thing in the world is just being

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<v Speaker 1>somewhere safe, not somewhere grand, not somewhere magical, just somewhere

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<v Speaker 1>warm with people who care. So if you are still awake,

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<v Speaker 1>just close your eyes. Let the sounds of the butter

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<v Speaker 1>settle around you, the creaking wood, the distant wind, the

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<v Speaker 1>soft breathing of a house at rest. There is no rush.

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<v Speaker 1>You are safe here. Just sleep good night.
