Chapter 253: At the Weasley House
"It's Sirius!"
"He left suddenly and said he wanted the children to stay with us for a few days," Mr. Weasley said in what he clearly thought was a lighthearted tone.
"Yes, Harry," he added quickly, pushing Harry Potter forward toward Mrs. Weasley, as if that might soften her mood.
Harry was surprised to see that Mrs. Weasley, who had looked ready to scold, suddenly softened as though under a charm. Her face glowed with warmth.
"Harry! Poor child, look how thin you've become!" she exclaimed.
"The last time we met, everything was so rushed I didn't even get to speak to you properly. Quickly, come inside. Dinner's already waiting."
At the end of her sentence, she shot her husband a sharp look.
After so many years of marriage, she didn't need him to say a word to know what he was thinking — this was clearly an excuse.
Still, because Harry was there, she didn't push it further.
"Oh, why did Sirius leave like that? I've already made plenty of dinner," she said with a sigh, walking briskly toward the house.
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"Hello, Harry, and Draco," said Percy Weasley, puffing out his chest. Even at dinner, he wore his tidy knitted vest with the prefect's badge pinned proudly to it.
"Our brother hasn't put it down since he got it," said Fred with a grin.
"Carries it with him everywhere," added George.
"Hello, Harry—and Malfoy's little devil," the twins greeted in unison, smirking.
Harry barely heard them. His stomach was growling loudly now.
He looked around the Weasley kitchen, which was small but homey. A well-scrubbed wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by mismatched chairs.
The clock on the wall had only one hand, with labels instead of numbers: Make tea, feed the chickens, you're late, and so on.
Three layers of cookbooks lined the mantel: Enchanting Your Cheese, The Magic of Baking Bread, and Creating a Feast. A small radio sat next to the sink, humming quietly.
This is what a real wizard's home looks like, Harry thought, fascinated. He barely noticed the half-cooked chicken in the pot, the steaming ham pies, or the bowl of salad waiting for dressing.
---
"Mom, including that crazy elf, there are ten of us!" Ron shouted.
"Is there even room to sit in here?" Fred and George asked together.
"We're eating in the yard," Mrs. Weasley replied sharply. "If you had eaten your lunch properly instead of experimenting with explosions, you'd have known that already!"
She waved her wand at the salad, stirring it briskly. A creamy stream of dressing flowed neatly into the bowl.
Fred and George quickly shrank back.
At that moment, a small red-haired girl in a blue robe peeked into the kitchen, squeaked, and fled back out.
"That's Ginny," Ron whispered to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."
"Didn't your sister already know this?" Draco asked dryly.
He had already noticed that the moment Harry walked in, everyone's attention immediately turned to him — while he and Alexander were politely ignored.
"Jealous, Malfoy?" Fred teased. "Because someone likes Harry?"
Draco rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Percy started moving furniture with surprising enthusiasm.
Fred leaned toward Alexander and muttered, "He's only helping because he wants people to notice his prefect badge."
From the stiff way Percy stuck out his chest, it was hard to argue.
---
"Hey, you three!" Mrs. Weasley called. "Ron, get the knives and forks. Fred, George—take the plates. Harry, Draco, Alexander—you just wait outside. I'll fry a few more sausages. You're all too thin, especially you, Harry."
Harry smiled awkwardly as Mrs. Weasley fussed over him again.
The boys stepped out the back door into the garden. The evening sky was glowing orange, and a long wooden table had been set with a checkered tablecloth.
Percy and Ginny were already seated. Percy sat up perfectly straight, holding his utensils like a soldier, while Ginny kept her head down, her face the same shade as her hair.
"Kreacher, come here," Harry said, turning to the sullen elf nearby. "We'll eat soon."
"Kreacher has not fallen so low as to dine with his master!" the elf muttered bitterly.
"If Harry Potter insists, old Kreacher can only pretend not to hear."
Harry sighed and gave up, embarrassed.
---
When dinner began, the tables were nearly bending under the weight of Mrs. Weasley's cooking.
For Harry — who had spent the afternoon traveling and dealing with surprises — it felt like heaven.
He ate hungrily, barely stopping for breath, savoring roast chicken, ham pie, potatoes, and salad.
At the other end of the table, Mrs. Weasley kept muttering complaints about the day.
She "accidentally" dropped several extra sausages onto Harry's plate, glaring at her husband as she scolded,
"I don't know what you were thinking—flying a car halfway across the country! Untested!"
Mr. Weasley frowned. "Are you saying my engineering is unreliable?"
Before the argument could continue, Ginny knocked over her plate in embarrassment. She ducked under the table to pick it up and emerged looking as red as the sunset.
"Ginny, would you like to sit with Daddy?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly, completely unaware of the reason behind her behavior.
"No…" Ginny whispered, staring at her lap.
Harry awkwardly pretended not to notice, while Draco snickered quietly beside him.
---
By the end of dinner, Harry was stuffed — Mrs. Weasley had given him four extra servings.
"Ugh… I can't move," he groaned, patting his stomach.
Together with Ron, Draco, and Alexander, he trudged up the narrow, creaking staircase. The stairs twisted at odd angles, leading to a small door with peeling paint and a sign that read:
"Ron's Room."
Harry ducked inside. The slanted ceiling nearly brushed his head.
"The three of us will sleep here," Ron said nervously.
Alexander smiled faintly. "It's perfect."
And despite the chaos of the day, the warmth of the Weasley home settled over them like a soft blanket.
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(End of this Chapter)
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