0415 The Burrow

Words : 1822 Updated : Oct 15th, 2025

0415 The Burrow Harry tumbled off the Knight Bus, his head spinning and stomach churning from the wildest ride he had ever experienced. The world seemed to tilt and sway around him as he struggled to find his footing on the solid ground. To meet Harry's urgent request of arriving in St. Catchpole before dinner, the driver, Ernie Prang, had raced recklessly the entire way. Stan Shunpike, the acne-faced conductor had even unceremoniously "dropped off" a few unfortunate passengers through the windows mid-journey. Their startled cries had faded quickly as the bus zipped away, leaving Harry to wonder if they had somehow landed safely or if the Ministry of Magic would have a mess to clean up. All of this, apparently, was to accommodate Harry's needs – though he wasn't sure he had asked for quite such enthusiastic service. "Farewell, Mr. Potter!" Stan called out eagerly, sticking his head out the window and waving so enthusiastically that his conductor's hat nearly flew off. His grin stretched from ear to ear, clearly thrilled to have transported the famous Harry Potter. Before Harry could even consider a response, the bus vanished into thin air with a whoosh that rustled the leaves on nearby trees and left a faint smell of burning rubber in its wake. "Never again!" Harry gasped, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting as if he'd just run a marathon. His glasses were skewed, and his messy black hair seemed even more disheveled than usual. "That's absolutely the last time I'll ever ride the Knight Bus!" "Don't speak too soon, young man—" Sirius began, hearing Harry's complaint, walking up to place a hand on Harry's shoulder with a smile. Apparition favored by adult wizards, wasn't much better than the Knight Bus in Harry's opinion. However, Sirius and Remus didn't look nearly as disheveled as Harry felt. Their robes were only slightly creased, and they both wore expressions of mild amusement at Harry's dramatic reaction to the bus ride. When Harry finally caught his breath, the nausea subsiding to a manageable level, he took in his surroundings. They were standing on a quiet country lane. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass, a welcome change from the stuffy interior of the Knight Bus. To the left side of the road lay a quaint village. The village was surrounded by vast farmlands, their neat rows of crops stretching towards the horizon. In the distance, a modest mountain stood silhouetted against the setting sun, its peak tinged with golden light. To the right, however, was the sight that truly captured Harry's attention. There stood the Burrow – a crooked, multi-story building that seemed to violate the muggle laws of architecture. It was a hodgepodge of rooms and extensions, each floor looking as if it had been precariously balanced atop the one below. Chimneys sprouted haphazardly from the roof, and Harry could swear he saw a window on the top floor blink sleepily at him. This was the home of his best friend from Hogwarts, Ron Weasley, and it held a special place in Harry's heart. In fact, it was Harry's second favorite place in the world, right after Hogwarts itself. Despite still feeling nauseous from the Knight Bus ride, Harry's spirits soared at the sight of the Burrow's lopsided silhouette bathed in the rosy-golden light of the setting sun. The warm glow seemed to breathe life into the old house, making it look even more magical than Harry remembered. The thought of Ron being just inside those walls, along with Mrs. Weasley, whose cooking was more delicious than anyone else's he knew, made Harry's stomach growl in anticipation, and all traces of nausea was forgotten. "Come on, Harry," said Remus, placing his hand on Harry's other shoulder. The sunset had given his usually pale skin a healthier glow, masking the signs of weariness that often marked his face. His amber eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at Harry, "Your friends are eager to see you—" Harry nodded, his excitement growing. He reached down to the cage at his feet, where Hedwig, his snowy owl, had been watching with her large, intelligent eyes. "You must be tired of being cooped up," Harry said softly as he opened the cage door. Hedwig hooted gratefully and stepped onto Harry's outstretched arm. With a gentle toss, Harry launched Hedwig into the air. She spread her magnificent white wings, catching the last rays of sunlight and seeming to glow as she soared upwards. She circled once above their heads before flying off towards the fields, no doubt in search of a tasty mouse or vole for her dinner. As they began walking towards the Burrow, Harry asked curiously, "By the way, Sirius, Remus, how do you know the Weasley family?" "Oh, that—" Sirius said lazily, squinting his eyes against the intoxicating evening breeze. "We've known Arthur and Molly for much longer than you have, Harry. Isn't that right, Remus?" "That would be before you were even born," Remus replied, tightening the collar of his wizard's robe. This action made Harry notice that Professor Lupin was wearing a brand-new robe, unlike the faded, patched one he always wore at Hogwarts. The Slytherins had often mocked him for it. "It was before Voldemort's downfall, you know, Harry," Remus continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Back then, there weren't many people brave enough to stand against the most evil dark wizard in the world. Albus did his best to bring these people together. Sirius and I, and of course your dad and mum, met Arthur and Molly during that time." "But Molly never really liked me—" Sirius said with a chuckle, nimbly jumping over a puddle. The area around Stoatshead Hill must have had rain recently; though the ground was mostly dry, it was still dotted with small pools of water that reflected the deepening twilight sky. "Honestly, Hermione—" Harry said seriously, though his eyes twinkled with amusement, "You should check if Crookshanks is also an Animagus. He's less like a cat than any cat I've ever seen." Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was fondness in her voice as she replied, "Oh, Harry, don't be silly. Crookshanks is just very intelligent for a cat. Aren't you, Crookshanks?" The last part was directed at the cat, who had returned to his gnome-chasing with renewed vigor. "At least his rat-catching skills are genuine," Sirius said with a chuckle, a dark look briefly crossing his face at the mention of rats. "He kept me fed with the rats he caught during that time before last Christmas." The reminder of Sirius's time in hiding, surviving on rats while everyone thought him a dangerous criminal, casted a momentary shadow over the group. But it passed quickly as they approached the welcoming warmth of the Burrow. Ron pushed open the back door of his house, leading Harry and the others inside. The door creaked slightly on its hinges, a homey sound that brought a smile to Harry's face. As he stepped over the threshold, breathing in the smoky air of the cramped, cozy room, a sense of comfort and security enveloped Harry. The Burrow smelled of wood smoke, herbs, and something delicious baking – scents that Harry had come to associate with safety and belonging. As he walked through the living room, Harry's eyes were drawn to the magic clock hanging on the wall. It was unlike any clock Harry had ever seen, with nine golden hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member. Instead of numbers, the clock face was surrounded by phrases like "home," "work," "traveling," "lost," "hospital," "prison," and "mortal peril." Currently, except for Mr. Weasley's hand that still pointed to 'work', the other eight hands all pointed to 'home'. Harry blinked, puzzled about something. He could have sworn there was a new hand on the clock, but before he could get a closer look, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room. "Oh, dear, was the journey alright?" Mrs. Weasley rushed out of the kitchen, wielding a still-smoking ladle that filled the air with the mouthwatering aroma of her cooking. As soon as she heard movement in the living room, she quickly came to Harry and gave him a fierce hug, just like Hermione had. "Ahem! It was all fine, Mrs. Weasley!" Harry gasped, his voice muffled against her apron. Despite the slight embarrassment of being fussed over, Harry couldn't help but feel touched by Mrs. Weasley's genuine affection. "Such a good boy!" Mrs. Weasley said fondly, stepping back and cupping Harry's face in her hands. Her eyes shone with warmth as she looked him over, fussing softly at how thin he seemed. (Ron rolled his eyes at his mother's fussing, while Hermione bit her lip to suppress a giggle). "I was planning to have Arthur pick you up, but the Ministry's been so busy lately, he couldn't get away," Mrs. Weasley explained, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Sirius insisted on going himself, so I had to agree." "I'm Harry's godfather, Molly!" Sirius said, his face darkening slightly. "It's only right that I pick up Harry, and I don't need anyone's permission to do so." The tension in the room suddenly became palpable. Harry shifted uncomfortably, caught between his affection for both Mrs. Weasley and Sirius. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to diffuse the situation, but Remus beat him to it. Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow, her lips thinning slightly, but Remus smoothly intervened with a diplomatic smile, "Your scrambled eggs are about to burn, Molly—" The effect was immediate. Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, thanks for the reminder, Remus—" she exclaimed, her attitude towards Remus noticeably warmer than it had been towards Sirius. She turned and rushed back to the kitchen, calling out over her shoulder, "Dinner will be ready soon, Harry. Arthur promised this morning he wouldn't miss your birthday dinner!" Harry felt a rush of warmth at the thought of a proper birthday dinner. He opened his mouth to tell Mrs. Weasley not to make a fuss over his birthday, but before he could speak, the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind them caught everyone's attention. Harry turned, half-expecting to see the mischievous grins of Fred and George. Instead, he found himself face to face with two young men he'd never met before—though they too had the trademark Weasley red hair. "Charlie and Bill—" Ron said, grinning inexplicably at Harry's surprised expression. "You must remember the stories about their time at Hogwarts, right?" ******************************* For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

0415 The Burrow

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