Chapter 69: The Burrow
"What about this car?" Harry asked, looking out the window. The flying car was clearly a magical creation.
Fred laughed heartily. "Exactly! Dad's obsessed with Muggle things because of his work. Our house is full of Muggle gadgets. He takes them apart and magically puts them back together. Honestly, if he could manage the house the same way, he could probably just float around himself. Mom's nearly driven crazy by it all."
George couldn't help laughing. Mr. Weasley was truly a master at showing love in his own way.
"It's the road," Fred said, gazing at the familiar scenery. "We'll be there soon. Dawn's coming."
A faint red glow appeared on the eastern horizon.
Under Fred's control, the car slowly descended, revealing green fields and rows of trees outside.
"Our home is at the edge of the village," Fred said. "This is Ottery St. Catchpole."
The car flew lower and lower as the sun cautiously climbed above the treetops.
"Oh, we're here!" Fred exclaimed excitedly.
The car landed smoothly, and everyone jumped out. After flying for a while, returning to solid ground always felt comforting.
They now stood beside a worn-down garage, surrounded by a small yard.
The Weasley family's finances were tight, and the yard looked run-down. It had once been a stone pigpen, later expanded with a few small rooms. The rooms had multiple levels, each slightly crooked as if magically stuck together—a bit intimidating. Four chimneys protruded from the red roof, and a crooked sign in front read "The Burrow." The name was fitting.
A pile of leather boots sat by the door, along with a rusty cauldron. A few brown chickens ran around the yard.
"Not great," Ron said awkwardly. He loved his home and family, but hosting friends still made him slightly embarrassed.
"This is amazing," Harry said, looking relaxed and cheerful. He enjoyed the homely atmosphere and the rural charm of the village.
"Quirky, but cozy," George said. It wasn't bad at all. With a few stylistic tweaks, this place could be paradise.
"All right, let's sneak upstairs quietly. Don't let anyone notice," Fred said, already planning. "Ron, when Mom calls us for breakfast, you run downstairs acting all excited—'Mom, look who's here!' That's when Harry and George come out. When she's happy, she won't even notice we used the car."
"Got it," Ron said, springing into action. "Come on, upstairs with me."
As he turned, his face went pale and his eyes froze on the house.
Mrs. Weasley was walking briskly toward them from the opposite side, startling the chickens. Usually kind and gentle, she now looked like a tiger with claws, her gaze terrifying.
"Oh!" Fred exclaimed. They had been caught.
Ron lowered his head.
Mrs. Weasley stopped in front of them, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at them, scrutinizing each one. She wore her apron, her wand tucked into her pocket, as if she had just dashed out of the kitchen.
"You are very brave," she said, forcing down her anger.
"We—" Fred began quietly, attempting to explain.
"Do you know how worried I was?" Mrs. Weasley's deep voice startled Harry and George standing beside her.
"Sorry, Mum, but…" Ron muttered an apology.
"The bed was empty, there were no notes anywhere. No one, no car—I was about to go mad. All night like this! What if there had been an accident? Have you thought about that? I've never… Charlie, Bill, Percy never made me this worried."
"Percy's a model student," Fred whispered.
"You should learn from him, don't worry," Mrs. Weasley snapped, poking Fred in the chest. "You could fall accidentally, someone might see, and then you'd be dragged into it. Your father—"
After a long moment, Mrs. Weasley finally turned, her throat hoarse from shouting.
George stepped forward immediately. "Mrs. Weasley, hello. Ron and Fred didn't leave a note—it was irresponsible. They should have informed you in advance so you wouldn't worry and could seek help."
Hearing George's support, Mrs. Weasley's expression softened considerably. "Yes, I'm not angry they went out, but they didn't tell me anything. That worried me a lot."
"They should remember this lesson—next time, they'll know how to handle it. Harry and I also want to thank you, Ron, and Fred. Even though they were reckless, they helped Harry. I'm glad we're here. Goodbye," George said, pulling Harry close and bowing politely alongside Mrs. Weasley.
"You're so kind. Delighted to see you, dear George, dear Harry," Mrs. Weasley said warmly. "Come in for breakfast."
She turned to shout at Ron and Fred: "Learn from George! Can't you leave a little snack for me?"
Turning back into the house, Mrs. Weasley left, and Fred whispered, "Model student, George."
George patted Fred's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "If you want to train less, everyone coming here will have to behave like this."
The Burrow's kitchen was small and slightly cramped. A wooden table and a few chairs stood in the center, all meticulously clean. A clock hung on the opposite wall, with no numbers, only one hand. Where the numbers should be, it probably read "Breakfast," "Feed the chickens," "Late for school," and so on.
Three stacks of books rested on the mantel: The Magic of Cheese, The Magic of Bread, Magical Dinners, and other cookery books about magical cuisine.
George muttered to himself, "Mrs. Weasley truly loves her family, including the household chores."
He tried to analyze the subtle differences between her and other witches through these daily details. These small touches made the Weasleys stand out from others in the magical world.
George looked carefully around. Though he was born in the magical world, he had few friends. One couldn't expect an adult's soul to fully enjoy playing with a child.
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