We didn’t even make it to the house before chaos erupted. Fred and George came charging out onto the porch, chasing a squealing, giggling Ginny. They were spraying her with something from a bottle, and a cloud of colourful butterflies swirled around her, tangling in her hair and trying to land on her face.

"Blimey, am I seeing things? Is that Harry?" one of the twins—Fred, I think—paused in surprise.

George stopped tormenting Ginny and turned to look. "Well, knock me over with a gargoyle, Fred, it is Harry," he shouted gleefully, exchanging a look with his brother. "And look—he’s even with our little Ronniekins. Oi, Harry! Good to see you!" they hollered in unison and started towards us, forgetting all about Ginny.

Ginny, meanwhile, batted away the butterflies, finally clearing her view. Spotting Harry, she let out a squeak and stumbled back into the house, shouting, "Mum, Mum! Harry’s here!"

"Harry? Which Harry, dear?" came Mum’s voice from the kitchen window.

"Harry Potter, who else?" Ginny exclaimed indignantly. The curtain twitched, and Mum’s astonished face appeared for a moment before vanishing.

"Good to see you, Harry!" George said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Now we’ve got someone decent to play Quidditch with."

"And you," Fred grumbled, turning to me and giving me a playful cuff on the head, "ruined everything as usual." He snatched Harry’s trunk while George grabbed his broomstick out of my hands. The two of them headed leisurely for the house. "We were going to nick Dad’s car and rescue you from Privet Drive ourselves tomorrow night," Fred explained to a bewildered Harry.

"Yeah, but now that brilliant plan’s gone down the drain," George added with mock disappointment.

"Like that’d stop you from nicking the Ford and going for a joyride anyway," I muttered.

"Oi, don’t even joke," George shot back, grimacing. "We always need a proper excuse for these things, so Mum doesn’t lose her nut entirely."

Just then, Mum came hurrying out, wiping her hands on her apron, with Ginny peeking shyly from behind her.

"Harry, dear, what a lovely surprise," Mum beamed, bustling down the steps and pulling Harry into a warm hug. "Come in, come in! I’ll get some food sorted for you right away. You’ve had breakfast, I’m sure, but it must’ve been ages ago. A little more won’t hurt. Ron, you too! Don’t tell me you’ve eaten properly this morning."

"Oi, what about us, Mum?" the twins whined in mock indignation, clinging to her apron and pulling exaggerated faces.

"You two only just left the table, you cheeky rascals!" she scolded, waving a dishcloth at them. Then, giving Harry a gentle nudge towards the house, she added, "In you go, dear. Let’s get you sorted."

It was hilarious watching Harry discreetly eye the kitchen, clearly fascinated by the magical odds and ends scattered about. He was especially taken with the knife that floated over the breadboard, slicing away on its own.

"We’ve been worried sick about you, Harry," Mum chattered as she bustled around the kitchen. "Just last night, Arthur and I decided we’d come fetch you on Wednesday. But what a pleasant surprise to see you here already!"

"Sorry for the bother, Mrs. Weasley," Harry mumbled, looking awkwardly at his plate.

"Oh, nonsense, love," Mum said, ruffling his hair affectionately. She placed a heaping plate of sausages, mashed potatoes, and gravy in front of him. Another went to me, and we set to eating while she slathered butter on rolls for us.

"By the way, Ron," she said suddenly, narrowing her eyes at me, "how did you get here? Don’t tell me you flew off on a broomstick to fetch him!"

"Mum, relax," I said, rolling my eyes and taking a sip of tea. "I just called the Knight Bus. It’s not a big deal."

"Ron, your father told you not to use your wand!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "And it’s dangerous!"

"What’s dangerous about it?" I shrugged. "I didn’t even cast a spell. Just got on the bus, got off, and here we are. I’m not seven anymore, Mum, and I didn’t break any rules."

"Oh, Ron, how quickly you’ve grown up," Mum sighed, her voice going a bit teary as she kissed me on the top of my head. I squirmed for show, but secretly, it felt nice.

I caught Harry watching Mum with this sort of quiet wonder. It made me realise something: sure, I didn’t have a vault full of gold or the fame of being the Boy Who Lived, but I had family. Real, loving family. And that was worth more than any of it.

"Oi, you done in there yet?" Fred called from the window.

"Yeah, hurry up!" George added. "We want to play Quidditch!"

"Quidditch?!" Mum cut in sharply, hands on her hips. "What did I say?"

"After a meal, it’s good to rest—let the stomach settle," the twins chimed in unison.

"Leave the boys alone," Mum said firmly. "You two can deal with the garden gnomes instead. I tripped over one yesterday by the raspberries and nearly went flying."

"Oh, Mum…" Fred groaned dramatically. "That’s so boring."

"Can I help with the gnomes, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, suddenly perking up.

"Of course, dear," Mum said, smiling warmly, "if you’re not too tired from the journey. Ron, show him the blackberry bushes by the fence first. Pick some while you’re at it—they’re good for you." She steered us to the door. "Ginny, you stay here—I’ve got an important task for you," she added over her shoulder.

As the door swung shut, I glanced at Harry, already grinning at the idea of gnomes. Life at the Burrow was definitely going to be an adventure for him.

Harry’s reaction to the gnomes and the way we evicted them was almost identical to mine the first time. Watching him gawk in utter disbelief was priceless. He even tried spinning one around, but it nipped him, and that was the end of his enthusiasm for the task.

After that, we spent a good half hour scrambling through the blackberry bushes until Mum called us in for tea. We returned absolutely covered in juice stains, with blue tongues and fingers to match, but grinning like a pair of lunatics. Mum tidied us up with a quick spell and wouldn’t even let the twins tease us.

Following a few slices of sweet pie and a couple of cups of tea, Harry looked half-asleep, so we all piled into the twins’ room and passed out until nearly dinnertime. Mum asked Harry where he’d like to sleep while he was staying with us—whether he wanted a room of his own in Charlie’s old space or to bunk with me. Harry chose to stick with me, so in the evening, once Dad got home, he sorted out an extra bed for my room. For the time being, though, we’d taken over the twins’ space, and they didn’t seem to mind one bit.

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Before dinner, we managed to sneak in a bit of flying. I couldn’t resist showing off my broom—not just the fact that I had one now, but that I’d bought it with my own hard-earned cash. Harry was properly gobsmacked. Then we played a game where we split into teams and tossed an apple back and forth, trying to keep it from hitting the ground. Harry ended up paired with Ginny, and they smashed it, winning the game hands-down. Everyone was very pleased.

Playing alongside Harry seemed to do Ginny a world of good—she barely blushed around him now and didn’t seem nearly as nervous. She still had that starry-eyed look whenever she glanced his way, but at least she wasn’t falling over herself anymore.

Dad wasn’t too fussed about me taking matters into my own hands to fetch Harry, though he did give me a private talking-to later that night. He gently reminded me that I should’ve let him know beforehand, as even temporarily taking someone from their family required following a few rules. When I explained that I’d cleared it with Harry’s relatives over the phone and that Uncle Vernon had even driven him over, Dad relaxed. He actually praised me for being resourceful, though it didn’t stop him from grilling me for ages about how telephones worked—some things never change.

Life at The Burrow carried on in a cheerful chaos. Everyone seemed determined to make Harry’s visit memorable. Dad fitted his broom with the same charms he’d put on mine, so we spent hours zipping around the fields. He also took us to a magical beach in Ilfracombe. Even though it was up north and we lived in the south, Dad had tinkered with the car so the trip only took about forty minutes. Of course, Mum didn’t know the car was enchanted—she thought it was just “patched up” and would always fret that it would fall apart mid-journey. To keep the peace, Dad would drive us to the main road before taking off into the sky. Mum would’ve lost her mind if she knew the truth.

Every evening before dinner, we had a Quidditch match. I even taught Harry how to ride a bike! He’d always wanted one but never got one from the Dursleys, so he’d been dying to try. You should’ve seen his face—he looked like Christmas had come early. Dad even transfigured a second bike so we could ride together, though the spell only lasted about an hour, so we stuck to short routes.

While I was at work in the mornings, the twins kept Harry busy, taking him to the forest or down to the pond. I didn’t skive off my job despite Harry’s visit—Gill at the workshop had started giving me more interesting tasks, and the pay had gone up a bit. I wasn’t about to turn that down. Harry didn’t seem to mind, though he did ask to tag along once. I turned him down flat—if Dobbie showed up and smashed something, I’d be in trouble for the rest of my life. No thanks.

A week later, we got a letter from Hermione. A massive raven from the International Postal Service delivered it in the morning. She was still in France with her parents but said they’d be back soon and were planning a trip to Diagon Alley on Wednesday. She suggested we join them. Hermione already knew Harry was staying with us—I’d called her the day after he arrived to tell her the whole story, just to put her mind at ease.

By lunchtime, school owls had delivered our Hogwarts letters.

“Blimey,” Fred muttered, looking through Percy’s letter, then mine, before snatching Ginny’s right out of her hands. She jumped, trying to grab it back. “Seven Lockhart books on every list? For every year?”

“That’ll cost a fortune,” George said, grimacing as Mum and Dad exchanged worried glances.

“Not to worry,” I interjected. “Why would we bother with all that rubbish? We’ll get one set for the lot of us. Classes don’t overlap, and I can always nick Harry’s copy for homework.” I grinned, and Harry nodded in agreement.

“Spot on,” the twins chorused, their eyes gleaming with mischief as they looked expectantly at Mum. Clearly, they had plans for the money saved.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense…” Mum said, her voice uncertain as she glanced at Dad.

“Quite right,” Dad agreed. “No point cluttering the house with unnecessary books. One set will do fine—or maybe two if there’s some left in the budget.”

That Wednesday, we all lined up at the fireplace after breakfast.

“Arthur, don’t let me forget to pick up more Floo Powder—it’s nearly run out,” Mum said, handing the pot of powder to Dad. Harry watched, wide-eyed, as each of us disappeared into the green flames.

“Your turn now, Harry,” Mum said, leaning down with a warm smile. “Arthur will be waiting for you on the other side.”

“Mum, he’s never used Floo Powder before,” I chimed in.

“What? Oh, love,” Mum cooed, her voice full of concern. “It’s dead simple. You toss a pinch of the powder at your feet and clearly say Diagon Alley. Let’s have you practice without the powder first.”

Harry, looking like he was marching to his doom, hitched up his trousers and bit his lip. Then, with all the solemnity of someone about to face a firing squad, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace.

“Diagon Alley,” he said carefully, his voice steady. He hesitated, then repeated, louder this time, “Diagon Alley,” before tossing the powder at his feet and vanishing in a flash of green flames.

A minute later, I joined him, and thank Merlin, he’d actually landed in the right place.

“Well? How was it?” I smirked as I dusted myself off. Mum, meanwhile, had already set to work, brushing soot off us with quick, efficient swipes.

“Flying’s better,” Harry muttered, managing a wry grin. We shared a knowing look.

“Oh, mate, that’s nothing,” George piped up. “Apparating’s worse, they say. Makes you feel like your insides are being turned out.”

“Not for a while yet, though,” I reassured Harry when he looked downright alarmed.

“Right, off we go!” Mum said brightly once we were all cleaned up. Together, we set off down the bustling street toward Gringotts.

“Ron! Harry!” came Hermione’s excited voice. She was just stepping out of the bank with her parents, who were sticking close behind her, looking well out of place. Can’t say I blamed them—people were staring at them like they had Muggle stamped on their foreheads. Dad, on the other hand, was positively glowing.

“Hello, hello!” Dad greeted them enthusiastically, bounding over. “Muggles! Real, live Muggles!” he exclaimed, eagerly shaking a rather bewildered Mr. Granger’s hand. I don’t think I’d ever been more embarrassed, not even that time at Gildon’s workshop.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Mum said stiffly, giving them a curt nod but not moving an inch closer. It always amazed me how differently she and Dad treated Muggles. “Arthur, we really ought to get going—can’t stand about chatting; we’ve got shopping to do.”

“You’re right, dear,” Dad agreed, though he was clearly reluctant to tear himself away. “But we must meet up later! Oh, Muggles, Molly! Real Muggles!” he kept repeating as he followed Mum into the bank, dragging Harry along. I just had time to remind Harry to grab enough gold for some new clothes.

“Sorry about my dad,” I said awkwardly once they were gone. “He’s, uh, very… sociable. And curious. Bet he’ll pester you about plugs and electricity before the day’s out. I’m Ron Weasley, by the way—Hermione’s classmate.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Granger said with a smile, exchanging an amused glance with his wife. “Hermione’s told us quite a bit about you—and Harry Potter.”

“Dad!” Hermione groaned, blushing furiously. She quickly turned the subject. “Oh, Ron, look—it’s Hagrid!”

The gamekeeper was striding toward us, parting the crowd like a ship through water.

“Hello, Hermione. Ron,” Hagrid greeted us with a broad grin. “Where’s Harry?”

“In the bank,” I answered, glancing at the Grangers, who looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole. Can’t say I blamed them—giants, goblins, and all.

“Oh, hey, Hagrid!” Harry called cheerfully as he jogged over. “What’re you doing here? Don’t reckon you need schoolbooks,” he teased, but Hagrid didn’t seem to catch the joke.

“Slug infestation,” Hagrid replied gravely. “They’ve gone and ruined all me cabbages, so I’ve come to get some poison.” He glanced up, spotting Mum and the rest of my family emerging from the bank, and suddenly looked like he couldn’t get away fast enough. “Well, I’ll be off. See you at school!”

Odd. It almost seemed like he was afraid of Mum, judging by how quickly he scarpered.

“Right then, kids,” Mum said briskly, glaring after Hagrid before pulling a handful of lists and coins from her bag. “Here’s what you need and some money. Meet back at Flourish and Blotts in an hour—no later! We’ll never get through it all otherwise. And don’t be late,” she added sternly before whisking Ginny away into the crowd.

We split up. The twins ran off with Dad, while a sulking Percy tagged along with us. Not that it lasted—he spotted Penelope Clearwater in the crowd and vanished faster than a disillusionment charm. That left Harry and me to pop into a shop and finally get him some proper clothes.