Harry felt rather uncomfortable being stuck in the middle of such an adult conversation. He doubted they'd even have it if their own children were there but supposed his status as an outsider and tenant put him in a different category to them. Harry tried to pretend he couldn't hear them; he didn't want to interrupt.
"They still need their mother," she muttered, going back to work.
"And they'll always need their mother," Arthur agreed diplomatically. "But we'll really only see them at Christmases and summers from now on," he gently pushed. "Didn't you say Glenda Goodwitch was retiring?" her husband asked curiously.
Eyes ping-ponging back to Mrs. Weasley, Harry saw her next objection stopped by the sudden change of topic.
"Yes," she finally said a bit cautiously as if feeling out a trap. "I for one am sorry to see her go."
"Who's Glenda Goodwitch?" Harry asked, unable to keep his curiosity under wraps.
"Oh, she's this darling woman with a column in the Prophet," she said with a wave as a tap-tap came from the window behind him. Harry turned to see a rather fluffy owl sitting on the sill. "Speaking of, could you get that, dear?" she said, gesturing at Arthur this time.
"She was ever so helpful when we were starting out," she said as her husband went to check the mail. "Advice for this and that, tricky solutions for problem pests, household stuff and child-rearing mostly - not like we'll need it now that we've got Lockhart's books."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Arthur said, taking a look at the paper. "Look at this," he prompted, handing it over to her.
"That's a horrible headline," she said critically, "it doesn't look like he's being liked at all. Oh! It's Lichfield - Now the headline's even worse. You don't say his name like that."
"Don't look at the headline, look at the article," her exasperated husband said. "It said he couldn't answer basic questions and refused to do the simplest spells. How could he wrestle a Yeti into submission if he gets stopped by his own pinky?"
"Yes, well, Lichfield was an auror, wasn't he?" she asked somewhat defensively.
"I still wouldn't bet on him wrestling against a-"
"Lichfield was an auror?" Harry asked, curious about what the dark wizard catchers really did.
"That was the rumor going around years ago," Molly said with a wave, still studying the paper, "but I don't know if it's true. Why was he beating up on Lockhart anyway?" she asked him in return.
"He wanted to use me to make the front page and got all grabby," Harry said, somewhat annoyed at the thought.
"Well he certainly accomplished that," Molly said peering at the picture. "Oh look, there you are too. Don't you look handsome?"
"You know, I bet the Prophet 's looking for someone to take over for Glenda," Mr. Weasley said, coming to his rescue.
"Good luck finding them," she said, handing the paper back to him and moving to put the dishes away. "That woman knew everything."
"Well, she certainly seemed to," he said judiciously. "Whoever they get will need a lot of homemaking experience, and you can't fake that. But when you think of it," he softly pushed again, "answering two letters a column three times a week is hardly what you call work, and she probably had a hundred letters a day to choose from. It's the kind of thing she could do from home and still look after the house if she needed."
"That's true," Molly said thoughtfully before her head whipped around to her husband. "You can't be serious," she said with a look that said the entire idea was ludicrous. "Me, a Glenda Goodwitch?"
"Well I'm sure they'd give you a different name, and it's not like we couldn't use the money," Arthur said hurriedly, glancing at his watch. "Merlin, look at the time. I'm going to be late."
"Arthur, I'm really not sure about this," she said as she followed her retreating husband out of the back door.
A small pop! signaled the end of the conversation though as Mr. Weasley disappeared. With a smile Harry wondered who would win when he got back. With a spike of fear, Harry looked at the time. It was already five after! Where had all the time gone? Bolting to the fireplace, he took a pinch of powder from the flowerpot and threw it into the flames causing them to turn green and flare towards the ceiling.
"Have a good day, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a wave as she came back inside.
Before Harry could even open his mouth to say thanks he heard a series of sharp trumpet blasts from outside, followed quickly by a loud, metallically-rending CRASH!
"What in Merlin's-!" Molly asked as she spun back to the doorway.
The green flames died away as Harry darted to the window to see what was going on. To his surprise he saw a tiny blue car zooming around the yard, slightly scuffed from where it tore a hole in the Weasleys' metal garage. As he watched, the car threw open its doors and started zig-zagging as if it were trying to throw something out. As it zipped past the window and footfalls were heard on the stairs, Harry heard a panicked little scream from the car that could only be Dobby.
As they dashed out into the yard to save the house-elf Harry just had to wonder, if he was this unlucky when it came to practices, how bad were actual dates going to be? He didn't know how he was going to make it up to Hermione because was going to be so late.