The room on the top floor where Ron slept hadn't changed much since Harry's last visit, save for the addition of two extra beds. The walls and ceiling were still plastered with posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. The players zipped back and forth across the posters, waving enthusiastically as they went.
On the windowsill, the fishbowl that once held frog spawn was now empty of eggs, replaced by a frog so large it bordered on ridiculous. Above the bowl hung an owl cage, where a tiny owl Ron had nicknamed Pigwidgeon was gleefully hopping about, chirping incessantly.
Harry glanced at the little owl, choosing to ignore the less-than-polite remarks it seemed to be directing his way.
"Shut it, Pig!" Ron grumbled, squeezing through the narrow gap between the beds to reach the window. He tried to calm his overly energetic owl, but his efforts were in vain. Whether Pigwidgeon didn't understand its master or simply thought Ron was playing, the owl only grew more animated after being scolded, bouncing around with even greater gusto.
Ron sighed heavily and plopped down onto his bed. Harry, meanwhile, was attempting to navigate the cramped space between the two beds. His luggage had already been sent ahead via the Floo Network and was now piled atop a camp bed next to Ron's. However, the tightly packed beds made it impossible for Harry to reach his own spot. With a shimmer of silvery mist, he Apparated directly to his bed at the far end of the room.
"Pretty handy, isn't it? I wish I could learn to Apparate too," Ron said, watching Harry teleport to his bedside with a twinge of envy.
"Speaking of Apparition, Ron, I've heard it's really risky. Is that true?" Harry asked. He waved his wand, guiding Hedwig's empty cage to float over and hang itself beside Pigwidgeon's, then flicked his wand again to neatly stack his luggage on the floor next to his bed.
"Seems like if you mess it up, you could end up miles from your target—or worse, there's a chance of Splinching," Ron said casually. "Bill botched his first Apparition test. He landed five kilometers south of his target, right on top of an old lady doing her shopping. But he passed the second time no problem."
"Ron, Splinching isn't a joke!" Hermione's voice cut in from outside the room, where she stood blocked by the beds. She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at Ron with indignation. "If a professional doesn't arrive within seconds to help, a Splinched wizard could very well die!"
"Speaking of which, Hermione, are you still planning to use that Time-Turner this term?" Harry asked, gesturing toward his neck as he looked at her.
"Do you honestly think I'd dare use it after everything that happened?" Hermione shot Harry an exasperated look. "I'm not that reckless. I handed it back to Professor McGonagall at the end of last term."
"Time-Turner? What's that? It sounds wicked!" Ron's eyes lit up as he stared at Harry and Hermione, his face practically screaming, Tell me now!
Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded her approval. He then explained how Hermione had used the Time-Turner last year to zip between classes, leaving Ron looking thoroughly disappointed when he finished.
"Something that fun, and you just gave it back? You could've at least let me have a go…" Ron muttered.
"Ron! A Time-Turner isn't a toy!" Hermione snapped, fixing him with a stern glare. "If you break the rules while using it, incredibly dangerous things can happen!"
"Like what?" Ron asked, curiosity piqued.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond. She distinctly remembered researching the Time-Turner's dangers in detail when she'd applied for it, but now… why couldn't she recall a single example?
"It's just… a Time-Turner is extremely dangerous, alright?" she huffed, tossing out the statement before stomping down the stairs with a series of loud thud-thud-thuds.
A few seconds later, Percy's complaints echoed up from below.
"Look at that—your brother Percy really loves his job, doesn't he?" Harry said, settling onto his bed and surveying the crowded room.
"Loves it?" Ron replied glumly. "If Dad didn't drag him back, he wouldn't even come home. He's a workaholic. Whatever you do, don't get him started on his boss. Mr. Crouch thinks… I told Mr. Crouch… Mr. Crouch believes… Mr. Crouch said to me… They're about to officially appoint him any day now, and to snag that assistant position with Crouch, Percy's even claimed a room for himself with the excuse of work. That left George and Fred with no choice but to squeeze in here with us."
The two chatted in the room for a while before heading downstairs.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was busy preparing dinner for everyone, with Hermione lending a hand nearby. Harry, unable to find a way to help, and Ron, who had no intention of trying, passed through the kitchen and stepped out into the garden.
Since Harry's last visit, a few more chickens had appeared in the Weasleys' garden. Outside the coop, a ginger cat was chasing a handful of gnomes, darting past the fence in a blur. On an open patch of ground near the house, George and the others were gathered. Bill and Charlie were directing two battered old tables in a duel, while George and Fred cheered them on. Ginny stood off to the side, giggling uncontrollably.
The tables soared through the air, dodging each other's attacks while attempting to ram one another with their corners. Just as the fight reached a fever pitch, Harry waved his wand, transfiguring a piece of dead wood into a third table and sending it into the fray.
The battle intensified instantly. At one point, Bill and Harry teamed up to gang up on Charlie; then Charlie and Bill turned on Harry. Finally, with a loud bang, Bill's table succumbed to Harry and Charlie's combined assault. One of its legs snapped, and it wobbled pitifully as it crashed onto the grass.
The duel ended, and a sharp clatter rang out from above. They all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a third-floor window.
"Can you lot keep it down?" Percy barked, clearly fed up after being interrupted for the umpteenth time that day.
"Sorry, Percy," Bill said with a cheeky grin. "How's that new cauldron situation going?"
"Terrible," Percy snapped, slamming the window shut with a thud. Bill and Charlie chuckled softly, guiding the tables back to the ground with their wands. With a flick, Bill reattached the broken leg and conjured a tablecloth out of thin air.
Soon, Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the kitchen. Everyone scrambled—some grabbing plates, others fetching cutlery—and after a bit of chaos, all eleven of them finally sat neatly around the two tables. The spread before them was a feast of Mrs. Weasley's delicious, aromatic dishes (with perhaps a little help from Hermione).
At one end of the table, Percy was deep in conversation with Mr. Weasley about his report on the number of new cauldrons. "I told Mr. Crouch I'd have it done by Tuesday," Percy said smugly. "That's ahead of what Mr. Crouch expected, but I like to stay proactive. If I finish on time, Mr. Crouch will be pleased—our department's swamped preparing for the World Cup. We're not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. And Ludo Bagman…"
"I like Ludo," Mr. Weasley said mildly. "He's the one who got us those great World Cup tickets. I did him a small favor once—his brother Otto got into a spot of trouble with a lawnmower that had some unusual modifications. I helped smooth it over."
"Oh, sure, Bagman's likable enough," Percy said, waving a hand dismissively. "But compared to Mr. Crouch, I can't fathom how he ever became a department head! If Mr. Crouch found out someone in our department went missing, he'd investigate immediately—not just let it slide. You know Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now! She went on holiday to Albania and hasn't come back."
"I asked Ludo about Bertha a few days ago," Mr. Weasley said, frowning. "He didn't seem too concerned—said she's gone missing plenty of times before… But honestly, if it were someone from my department, I'd be worried…"
"Oh, Bertha's a headache, no doubt—I'm worried about her too—but…" Percy sighed grandly, taking a deep sip of elderflower wine. "The Department of International Magical Cooperation has far too much on its plate to go chasing after people for other departments. You know, after the Quidditch World Cup, we've got another major event to organize."
Percy cleared his throat importantly and turned toward where Harry and Hermione sat. "You know what I'm talking about, Dad," he said, raising his voice slightly. "It's top secret."
Ron rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering to Harry and Hermione beside him, "Ignore Percy. Ever since he started work, he's been dying for us to ask what it is. I'd bet it's just some dull, long-winded report."
In the middle of the table, Fred, George, and Charlie were engrossed in a heated discussion about the World Cup. Across from them, Mrs. Weasley, seated next to Ginny, was arguing with Bill about the earring dangling from his ear. With Ginny's help, Bill managed to temporarily convince her to drop her demands that he remove it and cut his hair. But then, as George and Fred pulled out fake wands and started dueling across Charlie, Mrs. Weasley's attention shifted to them.
"Honestly, George, Fred, can't you two act like proper older brothers for once?" she began, launching into a tirade. "Look at your O.W.L. results from last term—only three certificates between you! Bill and Percy each got twelve O.W.L.s! Even Ron came third in his year last term! But you two? Three certificates! What kind of example are you setting for Ginny?"
Feeling the resentment radiating from his two brothers, the third-in-his-year quietly scooted closer to the second- and first-place students for safety.
As dusk settled in, Mr. Weasley conjured candles to light up the darkening garden. With dinner mostly finished, everyone began enjoying Mrs. Weasley's strawberry ice cream.
Once they'd all eaten their fill, they leaned back in their chairs around the tables, chatting about their experiences. Charlie talked about a young dragon that had recently found a boyfriend, while Bill recounted discovering an oddly shaped statue in Egypt.
Insects buzzed around the candles, and the warm air carried the scents of grass and honeysuckle. A few gnomes, pursued relentlessly by Crookshanks, darted across the open space near the table, cackling wildly as they vanished into the rose bushes.
After thoroughly scolding George and Fred, Mrs. Weasley glanced at her watch and stood up, ushering everyone inside. "Off to bed, all of you," she said. "We've got to be up early tomorrow when Sirius arrives to head to the match. Oh, Harry, leave your school supply list with me—I'll pop over to Diagon Alley tomorrow and get everything for you. If we wait until after the World Cup, it might be too late. The last one went on for five whole days."
"I hope this one does too!" Ron said eagerly.
"Oh, I certainly don't," Percy said with mock seriousness. "Five days away? My inbox would be overflowing. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine."
"Yeah, someone might send you dragon dung in the mail again, Percy," Fred quipped.
"That was a fertilizer sample from Norway!" Percy retorted, his face flushing red. "It wasn't personal!"
"Actually," Fred whispered to Harry as they all got up from the table, "it was from us."
The next morning, while everyone else was still fast asleep, a pair of green eyes blinked open in the darkness. Ron—who'd been slacking on his summer morning workouts—was reluctantly dragged downstairs by Harry.
When Mrs. Weasley rose early to prepare breakfast, she was surprised to find three ravenous kids, famished from their vigorous exercise, already waiting for her on the ground floor.
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