Chapter 70: Mrs. Weasley
George's lack of a sense of security wasn't just shown in his dislike of dragons, dogs, and pets. He felt anxious around things he couldn't control—even house-elves made him uneasy. And what could be harder to manage than a bear cub?
Of course, he could control himself, and he could make the bear boy fly away without a curse. But getting him to stay and play with children? That was nearly impossible.
So it wasn't surprising that someone like him didn't have many friends. Luckily, George didn't mind. With his abilities, many people wanted to be his friend.
Mrs. Weasley clattered about the kitchen, carrying breakfast, casually tossing chopped sausages into the frying pan. While busy, she still shot Ron and Fred a sharp glance and muttered, "What are you two writing? Unbelievable."
George mentally added, "Mrs. Weasley truly loves her family, including complaining to them."
"I wouldn't blame you, Harry," she said, piling seven or eight fried sausages onto his plate. "Arthur and I were worried about you, too. We decided last night that if you didn't reply to our letters, we'd come get you. But…" She added three fried eggs to his plate, "flying across half the country in an illegal magical car is just too reckless."
She glanced at George, then brought over a larger plate piled with even more sausages and eggs for him.
George quietly added, "Mrs. Weasley loves her family, including friends of the family."
With a flick of her wand at the sink, pots and pans clattered and cleaned themselves automatically.
This impressed George. "When doing chores, she freely uses Silencio. Not only is she skilled at household work, her magical control is incredible."
"Oh no, Mum!" Ron muttered.
"No gossiping at the table," Mrs. Weasley snapped.
"They won't feed Harry, Mum," Fred added.
"You too, be quiet," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at Harry with gentle eyes.
"Strict but fair, and no authoritarianism," George murmured to himself while looking at photos. "Her children aren't afraid of her—they can say what they want. The family atmosphere is excellent."
At that moment, a red-haired little girl in loose pajamas ran into the kitchen, screamed, and immediately ran back out.
"She's so poor her daughter's pajamas don't even fit," George muttered under his breath. He planned to send some clothes along with the phones he intended to mail.
"That's Ginny," Ron whispered to Harry. "My little sister. She spent all summer talking about you—she's your biggest fan."
"She also wants your autograph, Harry," Fred whispered, sneaking a glance at their mother before burying his head in the plate and continuing to eat.
The kitchen atmosphere was tense. Everyone hurried through their breakfast and cleared their plates.
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed," Fred said, putting down his plate.
"No," Mrs. Weasley said without mercy. "This is your own fault. You stayed up all night. Now you can go out to the garden and chase the pixies. They've gotten out of control."
"Please, Mum," Fred whined pitifully.
"Don't expect mercy," Mrs. Weasley said, glaring at Ron and Fred. "Once you finish, you may go to bed."
She looked at Harry and George. "You can go to bed, too. If you haven't slept all night, you must be exhausted."
Harry glanced awkwardly at George. "I'm not tired. I want to help Ron, and I don't even know what a pixie is yet."
"Good boy. This life is boring," Mrs. Weasley said. "Let's see what Lockhart has to say."
She turned and pulled a book from the mantel.
"No, Mum, we know how to deal with the garden pixies," Fred said helplessly, looking up.
Mrs. Weasley held a thick, beautiful book with "Gilderoy Lockhart Teaches You How to Eliminate Household Pests" written on the cover. Inside, a photograph showed a handsome blond man winking. Mrs. Weasley stared straight at him.
"He's amazing. He understands everything about our house—this is such a wonderful book…" Mrs. Weasley giggled foolishly.
"Mum really admires him," Fred muttered, lowering his head, his ears reddening with embarrassment.
"Stop talking nonsense, Fred," Mrs. Weasley said, her face turning bright red as she waved her hand awkwardly. "Get to work. If you think you know more than Lockhart, wait until I check. If there are pixies in the garden, I'll make sure you regret it."
George silently stepped outside, thinking, "Mrs. Weasley loves her family, but she still has a girl's heart—full of dreams, and she likes handsome, charming men."
As the owner of a large bookstore, George had plenty of books and was not unfamiliar with Gilderoy Lockhart. He remarked, "A talented showman born in the magical world—what a pity."
Lockhart knew exactly how to win popularity and worked tirelessly for it. Though he lacked the qualifications of a Ravenclaw, he was a master at creating fame and influence.
Though George didn't like him—and thankfully Anna and Grandma also disliked Lockhart's books—he had to admit that Lockhart was a genius at building reputation and spreading influence. Truly remarkable.
George even considered some business collaboration with Lockhart. After all, he was a famous figure in the magical world. The price was reasonable, and he wasn't picky. But he quickly dismissed the idea—after all, the magical population wasn't large enough to require celebrity endorsements.
The Weasley brothers trudged into the garden, complaining and yawning as they walked.
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