The letter came in late April, but we didn’t go shopping straight away. We waited until the boys got back from Hogwarts, so Molly could take stock of what we already had and work out what still needed buying. I nearly ground my teeth to bits with frustration—so much time lost for practicing spells. But Dad only got paid at the end of the month, and he'd already spent most of it on Bill, so...

Percy got made a prefect this year. No telling who was prouder—Percy himself or Mum, with her gifted kids. Bill had been a school prefect, Charlie was the Quidditch captain, and now Percy was catching up to them both. The twins, naturally, wouldn’t let him live it down, but I was happy for him—he’d earned it. Same with the owl Arthur got him to celebrate. Ten Galleons for a scruffy gray ball of feathers—the world's gone mad! Percy called his new friend Hermes.

I, of course, inherited his old rat.

When I first ended up here, books and stories were the last thing on my mind. All I could think about was figuring out how to fit in and stay sane. Later on, I thought about everything, but I never had the guts to act on any of it and just let things go their way.

I suppose I could’ve killed the rat straight off, though it’s hardly my style to just off someone who’s done me no harm. Besides, so much hangs on it. Cutting that thread could unravel things in ways I couldn’t predict. Everything leads to something else—one thing affects the next and then the next.

Sirius wouldn’t see the rat in the paper and wouldn’t break out of Azkaban. Wormtail wouldn’t crack under the guilt, and Potter wouldn’t escape capture. I’m just a tiny, insignificant cog here; I don’t even have a place in the story to start changing it. So, I figured I’d wait until Sirius broke out, then deal with the rat. Maybe get some advice. And so, now that nasty rodent’s coming with me to Hogwarts.

We got to Diagon Alley through Tom’s pub using the Floo Network. Arthur came along with me; the others stayed home, which I was well pleased about.

The Alley itself looked a bit run-down, like some backwater medieval village, but the magic made up for it. There was loads of it, in every object, even in the air and the cobblestones. I silently thanked Matt for those books that taught me how to sense it. Otherwise, it would’ve just been a dusty old street filled with oddities. Can't wait to see what Hogwarts feels like.

I only got a glimpse of the goblins. Well, only one, really—the one guarding Gringotts’ door. A right nasty-looking alien he was, like he was missing a blaster or some ray gun. Definitely not human or even humanoid—more like some other form of life entirely. I was well glad we didn’t need to go into the bank.

They only got me the bare essentials for school. It’s times like these you feel the pinch of being skint. Quills, parchment, potion ingredients, a wand, some robes, and that’s about it. At least I managed to save my nine Galleons. Though, to be fair, I did spend three on a runes kit when Dad wasn’t looking. But I’ve still got six, just in case. Mind you, I was sorely tempted by this quill that writes essays on its own if you dictate them—it cost five and a half Galleons. Never been keen on all that writing nonsense.

Didn’t need any new books—they all came from the twins, along with a roll of magic tape, which I used for about a week just getting the books into decent shape.

The telescope’s a family one, shared by everyone. The cauldron, school bag, and scales were Charlie’s, as he’d finished school this year.

Percy and I got all Bill’s old clothes. Mum adjusted them a bit to fit. Bill’s training with the goblins ended, and he’s off to Africa for two years to work at the bank branch there. Mum and Dad splashed out on a whole new wardrobe for him—even a new trunk, what with the new place and all.

So they bought me a few missing bits and bobs at a small shop with affordable stuff. Madam Malkin’s was only for my set of robes.

My wand chose me—it’s willow with a unicorn hair core. I tell you, it’s something else, that first time you grip the handle. It’s like your power and the magic in the wand merge and become a part of you, so you can impose your will and desires on the world. Absolutely bonkers, you feel like some almighty god in that moment.

I went round the Muggle shops on my own and picked up some small things—underwear, socks, T-shirts, jumpers, and proper shirts without ruffles and cufflinks. I got extras so I wouldn’t mind throwing them away later. Mum looked a bit put out and disapproving but held her tongue. She doesn’t take kindly to anything Muggle.

I also bought some sweets and a bunch of Snickers for the journey, a regular alarm clock, and a two-liter thermos. They had something similar in the magical shops, but I didn’t fancy parting with four Galleons for it.

I often bought sweets for home. Told them I liked spending my own money—got to do something with all the Muggle coins I’ve saved up over time.

Dad looked over the wrappers with curiosity and even started a collection of them, but he only tried a sweet once. Ginny and I were the only ones eating them, and only after a massive argument with Mum.

Molly thought it was reckless to eat ‘who knows what’—who knew what Muggles put in it, and how it might affect a wizard? She had a real go at Arthur for ‘infecting the child with his strange Muggle fascination.’ But eventually, she let it go. For a bit, anyway.

When I came back from work with my hair cut short, she had another good moan. She only stopped because I was off to Hogwarts in a week.

All the lads in our family wore their hair down to their shoulders with a parting—seemed to be the standard in the magical world. But my red locks were annoying as hell, and I thought a stylish crew cut suited me much better. So, she had to put up with it. Later, she even cut Percy’s hair to match—he talked her into it.

Before Hogwarts, I practiced all the spells I’d learned. The feeling was fantastic. Once you get a taste for it, you want to keep casting, even if it’s just a simple Lumos. I reckon a Muggle addict feels the same way about their fix, or maybe I’m just not used to it yet. Dad shut down my magic spree quickly, though—he took my wand and only gave it back on the day I left.

I think I’ve finally worked out why all wizards are a bit mad. When you see something transform before your eyes just because you wanted it to – a matchstick turning into a needle, for example – it’s hard to stay grounded. Then there’s a dog running about the room, a real, breathing dog, when a second ago it was just an old table... Well, that sort of thing throws every natural law out the window. You can’t keep your head straight when there’s nothing familiar to anchor onto. Honestly, it broadens your mind in a way that makes anything seem possible.

Yesterday, Charlie left for a dragon sanctuary in Romania. They invited him to work as a dragon tamer. Molly cried all day. First one son left, now the second had flown the nest too.

I asked him why he didn’t want to go pro in Quidditch. The national coach himself had come to Hogwarts, trying to recruit him to the England team. Eight hundred, maybe a thousand Galleons in salary, a top-tier broom, and he wouldn’t even have to leave the country.

“That sort of thing isn’t serious, Ron,” he answered calmly, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “I love flying, but that’s not a career. A Seeker’s got a career lifespan of maybe till thirty – if you don’t get hurt first. Constant travel, press, fans, gossip. All show and no substance. And then the reporters would hound Mum and Dad, never leave them in peace. I don’t need that, nor the fame.”

“So, what do dragon tamers actually do?” I asked, a bit surprised by how much thought he’d put into it.

“My specialty will be as a Dragon Handler, Ron,” he smiled. “I’ll be part of a team of wizards enchanting dragon habitats – it’s a sanctuary, after all, they live freely there. We’ll transport them, capture them, make sure they don’t get sick, regulate the population. Even hunt a few. And I’ll have to fly a lot, so I’m bringing my broom. Plus, I love the outdoors, working in nature. As for sport… it’s just a bit of fun, really. In this field, I can use all my skills, not just the flying.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The next day, he was gone. And I marveled at how different he and Bill are. One wanted a bit of the high life, escaping somewhere he wouldn’t be embarrassed by his oddball parents. The other thought of them, how reporters would dig up the family’s private details and make life difficult for everyone.

Yesterday, I met Dumbledore. Well, sort of – I just said hello when he walked by the sitting room, and Mum introduced me: “My youngest, Ronnie, off to school this year.”

What to say… the magic coming off theold bloke was powerful and steady, like he’s got this quiet confidence in himself. His gaze was sharp, as though he could see right through you, down to your very insides, like an X-ray. But he didn’t seem the sort to go looking for trouble; though best not to cross him – he could crush anyone like a fly. Still, as long as he’s got that friendly smile on, it’s all good. A wizard of immense power, for sure. And my parents respect him immensely.

Of course, he looked completely out of place in the Burrow, like a man at a farm wedding in his best concert suit. He reminded me of Stalin, with that kindly squint and a penetrating gaze. Definitely a politician, probably a dictator. Best to keep my distance, I reckon.

I wasn’t worried about him seeing through me. I’m not just a Muggle anymore – I’m a proper wizard now, so I acted calm and collected; nothing to be afraid of. And honestly, he didn’t seem to give me much thought anyway, just a quick glance and that was it.

Turns out Hagrid forgot to tell Potter how to get onto the platform, and Dumbledore didn’t want to send another wizard over to sort it out. The gamekeeper’s already caused enough of a ruckus that Potter’s relatives would likely have a fit if another wizard popped up at their place. And the lad still has to go back to them next year.

And sending a letter by owl wasn’t an option either – who knows how they feel about magical birds now? There was a bit of an incident. Potter got the letter but didn’t open it, so they just sent him more and more.

Naturally, Mum took to the idea of helping out an orphan, so she agreed. There was no need to stick around, just show up fifteen minutes before the train leaves and check that he’s not lost on the Muggle side of the barrier – maybe he’ll figure out the entrance on his own. That’s it.

I said goodbye to Matt and Gil yesterday. Honestly, I was sorry to leave work and the lads, but Hogwarts was waiting for me, and I’d been dreaming of going there. If Luna’s house was that magical, then a school of magic must be completely mind-blowing.

I said goodbye to Luna too. It was a long, sad farewell.

She smiled softly, dreamily, and kept saying that she’d be all right, that I shouldn’t worry about her. Whether she was trying to convince herself or me, I wasn’t sure. We agreed to write every day, and I promised to come visit on holidays. It was the old Ron who didn’t want to go back to the Burrow, but I had someone to return to now.

The day before, knowing Molly would throw herself into a massive fuss, I packed myself a bag of sandwiches. Then, in the morning, while she made breakfast, I filled my thermos with sweet tea so I wouldn’t need to bother her.

After breakfast, I helped my parents by suggesting which forms to transfigure their robes into so they wouldn’t stand out among Muggles. Dad was the most thrilled, of course.

The twins and Percy went through the Floo with the luggage directly to the platform, while the four of us took a taxi to the station.

Personally, I think it’s daft. It would have been faster and simpler for everyone to arrive on the platform together by Floo, then for Mum to pop out on the Muggle side. But Arthur, excited for the adventure, wouldn’t hear of it. And I didn’t insist – let the man have his fun, as long as we didn’t miss the train.

Molly was tense and clearly nervous – this whole trip was not to her liking. In the Muggle world, she felt vulnerable. And this strange, terrifying car...

Arthur, though, was as pleased as punch, like a kid. As soon as we arrived, while I paid the fare with crumpled notes he’d given me, he rushed off to say goodbye to the boys – eager to get to work, he Apparated right off the platform without waiting.

“These Muggles increase every year, don’t they?” Molly grumbled as she fought her way through the crowd. “Just look at them, a whole mob. And why is everyone in such a rush this early? How are we to find the poor boy in all this?”

I caught sight of the twins on the platform, then Percy a moment later. Deciding not to get mixed up with the crowd, I went to look for the carriage where they should have put my things. They wouldn’t have been too careful, and they might have knocked over my thermos. Besides, I reckoned they’d find one lost lad without me.

So I got myself excused, and with a bit of hesitation, closed my eyes and stepped right into the brick wall.

The feeling was odd, but not all that different—sort of like walking through a warm, invisible barrier like the ones in supermarket entrances. And on the other side stood a real-life red steam engine.

Dad reckoned that, throughout history, wizards have only borrowed two things from Muggles: this steam train and the Knight Bus. Muggle iron doesn't break down from magic, same with other metals. But all the other parts have been swapped out for magical equivalents. Now the train and bus both run on pure magic and are enchanted to the hilt, so no one's hurtling about or falling out. The sweets trolley lady appears and vanishes in a special portal near the front of the train, too.

I found my trunk in the second-to-last carriage, checked my thermos, and went back to the family, who were waiting on the other side of the platform. Stood there and listened as Mum gave her usual last-minute advice. Out the corner of my eye, I saw the twins helping some kid drag his trunk onto the train—it kept slipping and walloping him on the legs. Judging by the snowy owl, that scrappy little kid was Harry Potter.

While Mum fussed over the other brothers and they all teased Percy and tried to cheer up Ginny, I had a good look at the other families. Wizards really are a bunch of odd ducks when it comes to clothes. Half of them looked like they’d been plucked straight out of the nineteenth century—frock coats, floor-length dresses, bonnets, and bowler hats. Honestly, you feel like you’re in some period drama.

Finally, the train gave its second whistle, and I gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and hugged Mum, then went to find my compartment. When I slid the door open, guess who was there: Potter. Cheers, you cheeky gits, twins.

“Sorry, that’s my stuff,” I said, nodding at my trunk as I sat down across from him.

“That's fine,” he mumbled shyly. “It's nicer with company.”

I hadn’t even had a chance to reply to that odd statement when the twins squeezed through the door.

“Ron, we’re in the next carriage over,” one of them reported. “Lee’s got a massive tarantula with him, and we’re off to see it. You coming? Harry, want to join us?”

We both shook our heads.

“Nah, you’re all right,” I answered for both of us. “No need to see that, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” said the other one, completely unfazed—they probably expected as much. “See you in the Great Hall for the feast!”

“Those are my brothers,” I explained as they left.

“They helped me with my trunk. Seem like good sorts,” he said with a smile. “It must be great, having two older brothers.”

“Actually, I’ve got five,” I grinned. “Two have already finished Hogwarts. One works for the goblins as a curse breaker, and the other’s a dragon tamer. Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” he nodded. “I’m Harry Potter, by the way. And you?”

“Ron Weasley,” I said. “Just don’t take anything from the twins, yeah? They’re jokers, always pulling pranks. Give you a sweet, and next thing you know, you’re covered in feathers or sparkling purple.”

“Forever?” Harry looked alarmed.

“Nah, just for ten minutes, maybe half an hour tops. Wizards can do all sorts, Harry, so best keep on your toes,” I replied.

We had a bit of lunch then. I shared some sandwiches and juice Mum had packed. The Dursleys had only given him two measly slices of toast with jam for breakfast, and he was too nervous to eat even that. No dinner last night either, and they hadn’t packed him anything for the trip.

Harry told me about his relatives, and I told him about my family. I explained that we’re close, but being a big family, we’re not exactly loaded. Nothing to hide there. We talked about Quidditch and the Hogwarts houses. Seemed like he’d only skimmed Hogwarts, A History without really reading it. We cracked open one of the textbooks and tried out a charm on a cup, and he even managed to fix his glasses. He looked dead pleased—his eyes were practically glowing with excitement, like a cat with a brand-new toy.

Honestly, he was pretty interesting and fun to talk to. He reminded me of myself a few years back, all mixed up between believing and doubting, both curious and a bit scared of magic, struggling with the unknown. By the time three hours had passed, we’d become decent friends.

Once Harry settled down and stopped looking so nervous, he started giving off this friendly vibe, this warmth that reminded me of Luna. I don’t know how someone that open and decent could grow up in a cupboard under the stairs. I didn’t plan on becoming best mates with him, but why not get to know him? Doesn’t cost me anything.

Around one, the trolley lady popped by with sweets. Harry bought a whole pile of wizarding sweets and kept insisting I try some—he really wanted to share. Looked a bit let down when I turned him down, straight out saying I’m not that into magical sweets. I pulled out a few Snickers bars instead and tried some pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, just to be polite. The hot tea hit the spot, too. Right in the middle of our conversation, though, there was a knock on the door.