In the last third of June, the brothers returned from Hogwarts, and suddenly, The Burrow was bustling and chaotic again.

The last time they visited, I wasn’t in the mood for much socializing and mostly stayed in my room. But now, I happily joined in on the fun. It turned out that when the energetic Weasleys gathered together, they led a very active life and couldn’t sit still for even a minute.

Every day, right after breakfast, we’d leave the house.

We visited a magical zoo in Axminster. It was more like a petting zoo, with nothing too exciting except for a Niffler and a sabertooth hare. Mostly it was just puffskeins, big purple toads, and pygmy puffs. The best part was that you could touch and pet them all. Ginny even asked for a puffskein for her birthday since they were sold there. But they cost three Galleons, and while Dad didn’t outright refuse, everyone knew it was unlikely he could scrounge up that kind of money by early August—especially with Percy needing supplies for Hogwarts. But what I liked about Ginny was that she never whined or begged for anything.

We also visited a magical creatures museum in Sussex—and that place was a nightmare. If Potter had to face a dragon in the first task, I don’t envy him. Even the stuffed version of that beast was impressive, and seeing other preserved creatures made you glad they were extinct. Honestly, terrifying stuff.

We went to a magical fair in Exmoor once—Molly was buying yarn for sweaters there. But for us kids, it wasn’t that interesting—just magical seedlings, fine yarn, fruits, vegetables, and enchanted livestock. The prices were sky-high, so we mostly just looked around. We couldn’t afford much anyway.

But Arthur tried to liven up our days. He had a lot of friends and never turned down a chance to help someone out. And he did it selflessly, too. He’d skip a side job that paid two Galleons just to help old Whitsher, whose son he’d gone to school with and visited on weekends a few times. When faced with a choice between his principles and profit, he always chose his principles. The pretentious ‘noble purebloods’ openly despised him for this, but his own people held him in high regard. And whenever the opportunity arose, they repaid him however they could.

That’s how we ended up with complimentary tickets to matches, passes to the magical zoo, or a spot for our tent in the magical Exmoor reserve. There was even a direct two-month family portal to a magical beach in Ilfracombe, where we went every day.

I won’t lie—sometimes, when he talked about his deeds in the evenings, I couldn’t understand or approve of his choices. When you’ve got so many kids and aren’t sure how you’ll afford their school supplies, doing charity work and helping others just seemed wrong to me. An extra Galleon is always useful.

And honestly, when things at home aren’t perfect… But he was raised with the belief, “Do good, and good will come back to you,” while I was taught, “No good deed goes unpunished.” We were just too different.

But one lesson I learned in this house was that your opinion is only right one for you. Others might think and live differently.

And to be honest, it’s surprising, but somehow, we always managed. We didn’t go around in patched clothes or go hungry, and the rest… Well, as they say, grow up and create your own vision of the perfect family and personal goals. No one’s stopping you. Over time, I learned not to judge and to just accept things as they were without overthinking. It wasn’t my place to judge.

Besides, with the older brothers back, Arthur took more night shifts—those paid better. And one day, he came home in high spirits and announced that Perkins had lent us a tent, so we’d better pack quickly for a trip to the Exmoor Magical Reserve.

Everyone cheered excitedly, and Arthur swept Molly into a hug, kissing her on both cheeks—I’d never seen him so happy. And then, almost casually, he miscalculated a bit and kissed her right on the lips.

The older brothers immediately started whooping and whistling, while the younger ones pulled faces and pretended to gag, exclaiming, “Ew” and “Come on, Mum.” But everyone looked happy, and their eyes sparkled with joy. Molly, blushing and smiling, tried to fend off Arthur with a dish towel while he laughed and hugged her around the waist.

That genuine, down-to-earth side of the Weasleys was something I grew to love, and I wouldn’t trade them for any royal family.

Molly packed up quickly and even had time to prepare some food. So, we all set off on our trip together, even bringing along Michael, Bill’s friend who had come to visit.

That was another thing I liked about the Weasleys. They took in a stranger without a second thought because their son brought him home, saying he had problems at home. They treated him like one of their own, without making any distinction between family and outsiders, even though the grocery bill surely went up.

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The magical reserve completely changed my perspective the moment I saw a unicorn. I even managed to pet one—not a full-grown one, it wouldn’t let me, but two young foals with silvery and golden coats. You’d think it’s just a horse with a horn on its head, but in reality, it radiates such a calm, peaceful power. You immediately realize this creature is truly magical.

We spent the whole week wandering around, wide-eyed, taking in the sights. Hidden among the leaves and grass were all sorts of magical creatures. We even spotted pixies and a tiny palm-sized dragon—a pygmy silverwing, as the warden told us. And there were birds that looked like the Firebirds from fairytales. All the creatures emanated such strong magic that, for the first time, I truly felt it—more intensely than when spells were cast right next to me.

Ginny got a colorful album, like a scrapbook, where she collected stickers of the creatures she spotted. At the end, they gave her a plush unicorn as a gift. The whole thing cost a Galleon, but us boys didn’t complain about the unfairness—she’s a girl, and we’d manage without. We just enjoyed the trip.

Unfortunately, most magical animals couldn’t be touched, and we couldn’t stay longer than two hours at a time. The warden, who accompanied our group, strictly enforced this rule. Our group included us and seven more people from nearby tents. We just watched the animals from a distance, marveling at their variety in their natural habitat.

We spent the rest of our time at the local beach, only returning to the tent for meals and sleep. The tent wasn't set up inside the reserve itself but a bit further out, in a designated camping area.

Our group first traveled in three shifts using the Floo Network to reach the local nature museum next to the reserve. After that, we walked about ten minutes through the regular reserve to get to the camping site.

Excited and looking forward to a week full of new experiences, we chatted loudly, laughed, and gestured animatedly. I joined in the fun, but then I noticed the disgusted looks from the people around us. To them, we must have looked like a rowdy bunch—maybe like a band of gypsies or a group of carefree hippies. An annoying speck in their refined view on this sunny day.

For a moment, the world seemed to lose its color, and I felt a flash of hatred for all these polished, stuck-up folks who'd never really lived, never understood what life was truly about. But then, as if sensing my mood, my mother turned around, smiled at me, and gave me an encouraging nod. And just like that, the sun came back. I calmed down instantly, realizing there was no point explaining light to those who had never seen it. Let them keep living in their drab little world. I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the new magic around me.

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The enchanted tent was the most magical thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t wrap my head around how it was possible. From the outside, it looked small, and we had to duck to get in, but inside it was a full-fledged three-room apartment. I immediately wanted to learn magic fast enough to do things like that myself.

Unfortunately, the week flew by quickly, and we returned home. But we kept ourselves busy there too—swimming, exploring all the surrounding areas, and going into the forest a few times to gather herbs for sale or catch magical frogs and lizards. In the end, we made only six Galleons all summer, split among us.

The boys also spent the summer flying—there were only two brooms, so they took turns. I held back, though. The flights looked impressive, and I decided that after the brothers left for school, I'd ask the twins to teach me. For now, I just watched.

The strangest and funniest task, in my opinion, was getting rid of garden gnomes. Honestly, I had no idea how to react to them.

When I first saw one of those little creatures, about a foot tall, it didn't seem ugly enough to make me afraid to touch it. The funniest part was that in a book on garden pests, the first method listed for removing gnomes was by grabbing and spinning them. I had thought the Weasleys had made that up to mess around under the guise of work.

The second method involved poison, and the last suggested keeping a Jarvey. A Jarvey is like a ferret, but bigger and it lives underground, devouring everything around it, from mice to gnomes. But the Weasleys, being compassionate souls, found both methods too harsh and preferred the traditional way of gnome removal.

When I first grabbed a squirming little gnome and started spinning it, I didn’t expect it to yell, “Let me go!” and out of surprise, I did. It ran off, loudly cursing.

I had thought it was more like a mindless pest, like a snail or an insect—so tossing a thinking creature headfirst didn’t sit right with me. What if it cracked its skull? Was that really okay?

I kept running into these little clashes between my old mindset and the new reality. Wizards are truly odd and irrational people from a Muggle’s perspective. What seems strange to us is normal to them.

So, I had to adapt quickly to avoid standing out. Soon enough, I got the hang of it and was tossing gnomes out like a pro.

Of course, it was all pretty much in vain—the gnomes would always come back, usually within two days.

I think the Weasleys considered anything that wandered onto their land as part of their own and worth caring for. An old, crippled rat, a ghoul, gnomes—they could easily have gotten rid of them if they wanted. But the Weasleys treated them like part of the family, just like they’d cared for Michael, Bill’s friend, for two weeks and later for Harry Potter. Even Ron was a fan of the Chudley Cannons simply because they were "his team." Who cared if they hadn’t won anything in a hundred years?

The Weasleys chose with their hearts based on their own criteria, not caring about status, wealth, or other things that mattered in the regular world. And I admired that, even if the rational part of me, used to a life of comfort and fighting tooth and nail for happiness, often won out.

The garden had plenty of fruit trees—apple, plum, pear, cherry. The trees were old, gnarled, overgrown, and long overdue for pruning. Among the berry bushes were raspberries, brambles, gooseberries, and currants. The grass was wild, a mix of herbs and cornflowers—like a meadow.

There was plenty of land, but they’d only set aside a small patch for vegetables—a couple of rows of greens and carrots. It seemed they’d never seriously considered starting a full vegetable garden.

Later, as I got to know them better, I realized they didn’t need one. They liked the shade of the overgrown trees, the untamed look of nature. They preferred grass underfoot instead of neat rows of crops, the scent of flowers in the air, with cozy benches and hammocks scattered among the trees. Birds sang from the branches and built their nests there. And as for vegetables? They’d just buy those.

Honestly, I could understand them. My parents had a summer cottage, a real one, with grass, birch trees, and wild mushrooms growing underfoot. The only garden bed we had was for strawberries. Our neighbor used to think we were crazy. For her, a beautiful garden meant neat rows of vegetables, so she chopped down all the old trees on her land. But that’s her choice, right? My mom was too polite to argue with her, though she did quietly think of her as a bit of a philistine. In the end, everyone makes their own choices.

I think that if the Weasleys were ever truly destitute, they might have planted a real garden. But as it was, they didn’t need one. Even that lone carrot patch was really meant for the gnomes—they never even dug it up for winter, letting the gnomes pull the carrots out from under the snow themselves.

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On July 20th, Percy got his Hogwarts letter. I had never seen my brother so excited. When the big, grumpy owl delivered the envelope, his hands were shaking so much that he practically rattled the bird as he untied the message.

Of course, after the initial excitement, I asked to take a closer look at the letter. It practically radiated magic, with its seals and intricate details that made it feel straight out of a fairy tale.

Mum threw a feast, and they decided to go shopping after Ginny's birthday. In the meantime, Percy was marking off what he already had from the school list and started meticulously packing his things into an old trunk.

Luckily, he got his set of textbooks from his older brothers. They also decided not to buy a new telescope—Bill and Charlie still had theirs, and the Astronomy classes for different years didn’t overlap. So if Percy got into Gryffindor, he wouldn’t have to run between floors. Not that he’d mind running if it meant he could get a new wand—but there just wasn’t enough money for it.

He was supposed to inherit Charlie’s old wand, made of ash with a unicorn hair core. Maybe I’m mistaken, but I think it’s the same one that ends up with Ron in the books. At least, the unicorn hair was poking out of its tip. Poor Percy was on the verge of tears, but he tried to put on a brave face to avoid upsetting our parents. In moments like these, I hated the Weasleys' situation.

Ginny’s birthday went like any celebration at The Burrow—full of laughter and noise. She got a bunch of notebooks, some cheap jewelry, and other little things. Plus, a gold Galleon. Aunt Muriel didn’t come to the party, but she sent Ginny five Galleons as a gift.

Ginny was the most excited about the upcoming trip to the magical marketplace—unlike us, she was getting brand-new clothes, not hand-me-downs.

Of course, she didn’t get to keep all the gold from Aunt Muriel, but with two Galleons, a kid could get a pretty decent wardrobe, even if it wasn’t anything fancy. After all, the most expensive things in the wizarding world were robes.

Ginny didn’t need formal robes—she only wore them on rare occasions when visiting Diagon Alley with Mum, which happened once or twice a year. So, they stocked up on everyday clothes for her, and for Percy, they bought everything on his list except robes and a wand. Arthur had received his salary, and it was just enough. The adults decided to split the leftover money to prepare all the sons for Hogwarts, with plans to buy the rest when Arthur got overtime pay the following week. This plan seemed to work every year, but this time it hit a snag.

When most of the shopping was done, Arthur came back with bad news—his department had made a mistake, and as the head, he got fined. Out of the 20 Galleons, only two were left, plus he managed to scrape up another one.

They had no choice but to buy Percy’s robes and give him the old wand, even though it wasn’t a great fit for him.

A set of everyday robes cost three Galleons, and it’s something no student can save on. We could inherit regular clothes, but school robes, once purchased and fitted in the shop, were attuned to their owner. They were more like ritual attire, warding off outside magical energies—not curses or hexes, but random negative energy. Without robes, Hogwarts wouldn’t even accept you. Maybe that’s why there are so few accidents at school.

While they were haggling over prices, Percy put on a brave face, but he was nearly in tears. He had set aside five Galleons but had already spent them—buying stationery, a planner, and an eagle-feather quill. He wanted to make a good impression as a serious student, but now this...

So, I went and grabbed my stash, placing four Galleons on the table. “Well, we’ve never been rich, no point starting now,” I thought. He needed it more than I did. And I could save up for a wand over the next three years, probably.

To my surprise, Charlie added one more Galleon, smiling as he ruffled Percy’s hair. The twins exchanged glances and tossed in another, and even Ginny shyly handed over one too.