Chapter 252: Sirius Left Suddenly
The Weasley house was simply the best place in Harry Potter's eyes.
Harry, who grew up under the strict rules of his Aunt Petunia, never liked houses that looked overly neat or luxurious.
The Burrow, with its impossible structure and crooked charm, felt more like home than anywhere he had ever known.
Ten minutes ago—
"That's the main road," Ron said, looking down through the windshield.
"We can get there in ten minutes… fortunately, we'll still make it in time for dinner."
Sirius lowered the car slightly. Below them stretched a patchwork of dark fields and clusters of trees.
"Harry, that's the village of Ottery St. Catchpole," Ron explained quickly.
"Our house is just outside the village. There are also some other wizarding families living around here."
"Is that your home?" Alexander Smith asked, pointing toward a strange-looking house.
It was an eccentric structure standing tall against the afternoon sky, with a ghostly pale moon faintly visible behind it.
The house looked like a dark tower built without logic, and even from the distance, it gave off an odd, crooked charm.
"No, that's the Lovegoods' home," Ron said with a sigh.
"Xenophilius edits The Quibbler. He's completely mental—and so is his daughter, or so people say."
"How could that possibly be our home? Who else but the Lovegoods would live in a place like that? It looks like a giant chess rook!" Ron complained.
"Ron, that doesn't look anything like a car or a rook," Draco frowned.
"I meant a rook, as in chess," Ron corrected, "you know—castle piece?"
"What about that one? Is that your home?" Harry asked after a moment, pointing to a crooked red house with several chimneys.
The building looked as if it had started life as a large stone pigsty, with extra rooms magically added on at random angles. It was tall, leaning, and completely defied the laws of architecture.
And yet, there was something warm and welcoming about it.
A crooked sign in the front yard read: "The Burrow."
Several fat brown chickens were pecking at the ground, and a pair of boots sat next to a rusty cauldron near the gate.
When Harry saw the sign, realization dawned on him — this truly was Ron's home.
"Yeah… not much to look at, huh?" Ron said, fidgeting nervously.
Harry smiled. "No, I like it. Really."
Ron raised an eyebrow. It didn't sound very convincing, but before he could reply, the car touched down beside a ramshackle garage.
Moments later, hurried footsteps approached, followed by a slightly out-of-breath man with thinning red hair and a kind smile.
"Does it fly well? Children? Sirius?" the man asked between gasps.
"Very well, Arthur," Sirius answered, smiling. Then he turned to the group.
"I have to leave for a while. I'll pick you up in a few days."
He looked back at Mr. Weasley.
"Arthur, take care of them. And tell Molly she doesn't need to save me a plate."
With a faint crack, Sirius vanished.
"Children! And Harry!" Mr. Weasley greeted warmly.
"I didn't have a chance to say hello to you properly last time. Ron's told me a lot of stories!"
Then, lowering his voice, he asked, "What happened while Sirius was picking you up? According to the plan, you were supposed to go to his place after dinner. Why the sudden change? And Kreacher—he stayed behind?"
"Hello, Kreacher," Mr. Weasley added politely.
Kreacher simply bulged his gray eyes and said nothing.
"Dad!" Ron groaned. "We just got out of the car, and the first thing you ask about is how it flew?"
"Ron, show some respect!" Draco snapped. "Mr. Weasley's work is a great cause for the Ministry!"
Arthur rubbed his forehead tiredly. He had the look of a man whose few remaining hairs were about to fall out.
Draco's eager expression didn't help—Arthur couldn't tell if the boy was sincere or mocking him.
"Sirius probably went to Hogwarts," Harry said after a pause. "It must be about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."
"I knew he wouldn't give up on that idea," Mr. Weasley said knowingly.
"He's wanted that job for years—either for himself or for Lupin."
"Lupin?" Ron asked.
"Who's that?" Draco added.
Alexander looked up from where he was standing. "Remus Lupin. He was one of Sirius's friends—part of his old group at Hogwarts."
"Ah, yes," Mr. Weasley said. "Sirius knows the post is cursed, but he still wanted to take it on with Lupin. He even suggested they split the teaching — one half of the year each."
"Dumbledore turned him down, of course. Said he had better candidates. Even Lucius Malfoy tried to inquire about it once," Mr. Weasley said, looking at Draco meaningfully.
"I didn't know about that," Draco muttered, glancing at Alexander and Harry.
Alexander quietly noted the tension in the room. No wonder Sirius didn't get the position, he thought.
That post eats through teachers faster than Bertie Bott's beans through your stomach.
Just then, another set of footsteps sounded from the yard.
Arthur straightened up immediately.
"Arthur! Have you forgotten what our family clock says?"
It was Mrs. Weasley—her voice sharp but warm at the same time.
"I'm not blind, Molly," Arthur said quickly. "I can see both you and Ron's hands pointing to 'home'."
Mrs. Weasley looked like a kindly plump lady at first glance, but when she was angry, even dragons might hesitate.
"Ah yes, Sirius helped—he even filed papers to make your flying bike legal!" she said, arms crossed.
"But that doesn't excuse you for staying out this long!"
Her tone softened just slightly as she added,
"Now hurry up, all of you. Dinner's ready."
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