The Burrow felt alive in a way Harry had never known a house could be. It creaked and groaned and whispered underfoot, as though it had grown upward over generations rather than been designed on purpose. The walls leaned slightly where they pleased, staircases twisted because they wanted to, and the whole place smelled faintly of cinnamon, parchment, and something bubbling on the stove downstairs.
By the time Harry's initial shock over Dumbledore's impending arrival had worn off, he'd followed the Weasley children to freshen up and explore the house. He trailed after Ron up the narrow staircase, past a crooked landing where a mirror loudly declared, "Tuck in your shirt, young man, have some dignity!" Ron flushed immediately and yanked at his jumper, muttering darkly under his breath about "bloody cheeky mirrors."
Ron was a bit red in the face as he explained the oddities of the house. "So, um, it's sort of been… added onto over the years," he said, waving vaguely at the slightly leaning walls. "Dad says it's all perfectly safe, but Mum says if you stand in the wrong bit on the second landing, the floorboards might spit you back down to the kitchen. Happened to Fred once."
Harry grinned, trying to picture it. "I think it's great, honestly," he said, craning his neck to look up at the attic just above Ron's room.
Ron cast a surprised glance at him, half skeptical. "You… think so?"
As though on cue, the ghoul in the attic banged the pipes above them hard enough to rattle dust from the ceiling. Ron sighed and raised his eyebrows pointedly at Harry, as if to say, still think it's great?
Harry laughed. "I've been stuck in a horribly non-magical — uh, muggle — house my whole life," he said, gesturing around them. "There aren't many houses like yours out there. Things like that odd grandfather clock, the rude mirror, and —"
BANG! went the ghoul again.
"—the ghoul," Harry added, chuckling, "are pretty interesting and… magical." He finished the sentence with a dramatic wave of his fingers, as though casting a spell.
"And he seems more and more normal, Fred," came a voice from the doorway.
Harry turned to find the Weasley twins leaning lazily against the doorframe, identical grins plastered on their freckled faces.
"And you would be very right about that, George," George agreed gravely with a nod. "Well, follow us, mysterious boy, and we'll see what Hagrid's doing to those poor gnomes."
Before Harry could answer, the three of them turned and headed back downstairs as if expecting him to follow.
Harry raised a brow at Ron and said, "I didn't know I was that mysterious. Apart from having a couple of bloodsuckers on my tail, I guess I am kind of famous after all."
Ron nearly tripped over a step, giving Harry a startled look. "Wait — bloodsuckers?"
Harry grinned, enjoying Ron's reaction, but before he could explain, they reached the bottom of the stairs where Ginny was standing awkwardly, half-hiding behind the twins.
"Oh, come on, don't make that face," Ron said quickly. "If you ask Ginny, she'll tell you all about it."
Ginny's cheeks went scarlet as she glared daggers at Ron, which only made him grin wider.
"Don't listen to him," George stage-whispered at Harry, "he's just jealous Ginny's your number one fan."
"George!" Ginny squeaked, retreating behind Fred's shoulder.
Harry tried, and failed, not to smile. It was the strangest, most chaotic family dynamic he'd ever seen — and it was… nice.
Outside, the Burrow's garden was a riot of wild growth and magical oddities. Overgrown grass reached past their knees, a crooked shed leaned precariously near the back fence, and what looked suspiciously like a set of gnome-sized tunnels snaked beneath the flowerbeds.
"Right," Fred said, rubbing his hands together with mock solemnity, "time for de-gnoming."
Harry blinked. "De-what-now?"
"You'll see," George promised ominously.
It turned out that de-gnoming involved grabbing small, angry, potato-headed creatures by their ankles and hurling them as far as possible into the field beyond the fence. The gnomes did not appreciate this, kicking and snapping their tiny teeth in protest.
Ron demonstrated first, spinning one by its legs like a lasso before flinging it over the hedge. "That's about thirty feet," he said proudly.
Harry was given a particularly vicious gnome that had managed to bite Fred on the knuckle. It twisted and snarled, little boots kicking furiously, but Harry swung it clumsily and sent it sailing… straight into the hedge.
The twins roared with laughter. "Ten points for effort!" George declared.
"You've got the anger, Potter," Fred said approvingly, "just work on the aim."
Harry rubbed his shoulder, laughing along with them. "Pretty sure that one's coming back for revenge later."
"Well," Fred said thoughtfully, "they do hold grudges."
As they worked, Harry recounted his nightly adventure with Hagrid — the strange noises, the pale, fast-moving figures, and the wild ride through the mist. The Weasley children gasped, interrupted, and whispered among themselves, but they hung on his every word.
"…and then we crashed right outside the Burrow," Harry finished. "I thought the whole thing was going to tip over, honestly."
Ron whistled low. "Bloody hell. You fought off… what were they? Vampires?"
"Dunno," Harry admitted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Could've been evil wizards. Could've been something else. Or maybe vampires are just common in Surrey."
"Would explain why some of their neighbours are so pale," Fred mused.
George elbowed him. "That's muggles, Fred. They're pale on purpose."
The sun climbed higher, and before long, the garden was bathed in warm light. Harry tilted his head back, breathing deeply. For the first time in what felt like forever, his thoughts slowed down enough to make space for something else — quiet, uncomplicated happiness.
And then:
"BOYS! GINNY!"
Harry winced at the sheer volume of Mrs. Weasley's voice carrying across the garden.
Fred chuckled and nudged George, who promptly shouted back, "WHAT, MUM?"
"BREAKFAST! BRING HAGRID!"
Harry blinked at the noise, a little dazed. "No spell for… talking less loudly, then?" he muttered under his breath.
Fred grinned. "There is. Mum just prefers the traditional method — shout first, charm later."
The entire red-haired bunch moved without hesitation, unfazed by the exchange.
Hagrid's hut, where was sleeping for the night — if you could call the crooked, timber-walled little structure a hut — looked like it had fought and lost a long-standing war with gravity. Its door was half ajar, sunlight streaming across the patchy earth in front of it where a few unfortunate gnomes were wrestling violently in the grass.
Harry, Ron, the twins, and Ginny were halfway across the yard when a tremendous thud shook the air. This was immediately followed by a furious roar that made Harry nearly trip over his shoelaces.
"Stop ye ruddy 'Nomes! Argh! Get outta here!"
There was a crash from inside, then another.
"STOP. PULLING. ME. BEARD!"
Harry blinked and exchanged a wide-eyed look with Ron, who looked unbothered, as though this was Tuesday for him.
Then, with a bang, the door flew open and a stream of haggard, dirt-streaked gnomes shot out like cannonballs. Limp, frantic, and screaming tiny gnome curses, they scattered into the overgrown grass, tripping over roots and each other in their panicked escape. One even turned mid-run to shake a stubby fist back at the hut.
Harry gawked. "Are… are they always like that?"
"Oh, they're tame today," George said casually, stepping neatly aside as one gnome nearly collided with his ankles.
Inside, they found Hagrid sitting on a three-legged stool that creaked alarmingly under his massive weight. He was bent forward, combing through his wild, tangled beard with fingers thicker than sausages. Bits of dirt, twigs, and what looked suspiciously like a half-buried gnome shoe dropped to the floor as he worked.
"Merlin's saggy socks," Fred muttered, "I think they were living in there."
Hagrid glanced up, eyes twinkling beneath the shadow of his tangled fringe.
"Fred," George began smoothly, "don't you think Hagrid looks particularly…"
"…haggard today?" George finished, lips twitching.
Hagrid's bushy brows drew together. "Ha, ha," he grumbled, still tugging at a stubborn knot in his beard. "Yeh try gettin' ten of the little beasts yankin' on yer whiskers, see how you look."
Harry leaned toward Ron and whispered, "Do they always do that?"
"Yeah," Ron whispered back with a small, resigned sigh. "I think it's a twin thing."
Fred spun dramatically on his heel and gestured toward Ron with both hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, introducing our youngest brother — Ronald Weasley, also known as Wittle Ronniekins."
Ron turned pink instantly. "Stop calling me that!"
"And this," George said gravely, turning toward Ginny, "is Ginerva Weasley."
Ginny folded her arms and glared at him. "Don't. You. Dare."
George ignored her. "Fred, do you think—?"
"Oh, absolutely," Fred interrupted, nodding seriously. "Her name definitely rhymes with McGonagall's."
Ginny's glare sharpened into a death stare. "It does not!"
Hagrid chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling like distant thunder. "Blimey, yeh lot never change." He finally turned his attention to Harry, giving him a long, appraising look that made Harry shift slightly.
"Well now," Hagrid said softly, lowering his voice as if it mattered — though at his volume, a nearby scarecrow probably heard him anyway. "Yeh alright, Harry? After last night, an' all?"
Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah. I'm fine. Nothing a good night's sleep didn't fix."
Hagrid's eyes searched his face for a moment longer, then he nodded, satisfied.
Before Harry could ask anything, Ginny piped up, "What happened last night?"
Ron perked up too, eager. "Yeah, Hagrid, tell us!"
But Hagrid shook his massive head, brushing them off like buzzing gnats. "Not my place, that ain't. Professor Dumbledore'll tell yeh what yeh need ter know."
That caught everyone's attention like a dropped Bludger.
"Dumbledore's coming here?" Fred asked, brows shooting up.
"Today?" George added.
Hagrid grunted an affirmative, still detangling something that might've been a gnome tooth from his beard. "Reckon so. Told me yesterday he'd want ter see Harry himself, before I went to grab him and all. Big important business, tha's all I know."
That effectively silenced the group — except Ron, who immediately started babbling under his breath about meeting "the most brilliant wizard in the world" and whether or not his mum would make treacle tart in celebration.
Meanwhile, Harry just… breathed.
Sunlight had begun streaming warmly through the crooked windows of the hut, making dust motes dance lazily in the air. The yard outside stretched endlessly, buzzing with the faint hum of bees and the occasional gnome squeak of terror.
For once, the frustration and confusion that had been swirling around in his head since last night faded under the simple, chaotic normalcy of the Burrow.
"Right," Hagrid said abruptly, standing so quickly the stool beneath him gave up entirely and collapsed with a sad crack. He didn't seem to notice. "Breakfast."
The twins perked up immediately, as though summoned by an ancient ritual.
"Breakfast," Fred repeated solemnly.
"Breakfast," George echoed reverently.
"Breakfast," Ron added, like a younger acolyte learning the sacred chant.
Ginny shot them and incredulous stare, "You just had it!"
Fred tousled her hair again, "Now, now Ginerva. It's important to let our guest feel included."
"So we'll just have a strip of bacon or two, won't we Fred?"
"Right you are, George."
Hagrid grinned and slapped his enormous hands together. "C'mon then, best not keep yer mum waitin', eh?"
They filed out of the hut, weaving through the overgrown garden where gnomes were only just beginning to poke their heads out cautiously from flowerpots and hedges, glaring balefully at the intruders.
Harry walked idly at the back, listening to Ron chatter about Quidditch — a topic he only vaguely understood but somehow found himself smiling at anyway. The sunlight caught on the ramshackle walls of the Burrow, highlighting crooked windows and mismatched chimneys, and Harry thought — not for the first time — that this was the most magical place he'd ever been.
It wasn't polished or neat, like the Dursleys' house. It wasn't pristine or orderly. But it was alive. Warm, messy, and wonderfully alive.
And Harry, without even realising it, felt more at home than he ever had before.
-+--+-
The Burrow's backyard smelled like bacon and sunshine. The kitchen door was propped wide open, letting the warm August breeze roll lazily into the house, carrying with it the sounds of clinking plates and Molly Weasley's authoritative voice giving someone — almost certainly George — a dressing-down for trying to smuggle sugar quills into breakfast.
Out in the yard, Hagrid sat on what could only be described as a heavily reinforced bench — really more of a cut-down log resting on two stumps. The normal furniture of the Burrow had wisely retreated indoors, unwilling to bear the weight of a man who could squash a pumpkin by accident. The breakfast spread was ridiculous: an entire platter of sausages, three heaping piles of eggs, a mountain of toast, and enough bacon to single-handedly bankrupt a small butcher.
"Yer really didn't have ter go ter all this trouble, Molly," Hagrid said, his voice thick with gratitude as he tucked a napkin somewhere into the vast wilderness of his beard. "Blimey, this is… this is proper grand, this is."
"Nonsense," Molly replied briskly, shooing away his thanks with a flick of her tea towel. "You've barely eaten since last night, I can see it in your face. Now eat, before you waste away entirely."
Arthur, sitting nearby with a mug of tea, gave a wry smile. "Merlin forbid that happens. Imagine Hagrid wasting away."
Hagrid chuckled, which sounded a bit like rocks tumbling down a hillside. "Aye, that'd be a sight, wouldn't it?" he said before attempting, and somehow succeeding, in shoveling three sausages and half a slice of toast into his mouth at once.
Harry sat at the edge of the bench, a plate balanced precariously on his knees (Molly insisted he had some again), quietly enjoying the chaos. It was… strange. Nice, but strange. The Dursleys would have had heart attacks if a man like Hagrid even stood in their driveway, let alone sat down for breakfast on the lawn.
Across from him, Ron and the twins had clearly already eaten — judging by the crumbs still dusting their shirts — yet they were stealthily reaching across Hagrid's plate to snatch bacon one strip at a time.
"You three had breakfast already," Molly said without looking, her back turned as she stirred something in a steaming cauldron perched at the kitchen window.
Fred froze mid-theft. "We're… quality checking, Mum."
"Making sure it's not poisoned," George added earnestly.
Ron, caught with a strip halfway to his mouth, nodded gravely. "Safety first."
Molly turned just enough to level them with the look. All three immediately abandoned their bacon, folding their hands innocently in their laps.
Harry nearly choked on his tea trying not to laugh.
Meanwhile, Arthur leaned closer to Hagrid, lowering his voice just enough to make it clear he didn't want the children to overhear — which, naturally, made all four of them lean conspicuously closer.
"Any word on why Dumbledore's stepped up protection around Harry?" Arthur asked quietly. "I've never known him to act without reason. From what he told us last night, you were at the scene immediately."
Hagrid paused, halfway through buttering an entire loaf of toast, and shook his shaggy head. "Can't say, Arthur. Ain't my place ter tell, even if I knew more'n I do. Best wait fer Dumbledore. He'll be here later today, he said."
Molly frowned, setting her spoon down with a small clink. "So something has happened."
"I didn't say that!" Hagrid protested quickly, though he sounded more uncomfortable than convincing. "Jus'… best ter hear it from him, tha's all."
Across the table, Harry caught Ron's eye. Ron subtly jerked his head toward the twins, who were already leaning so far forward Harry was mildly concerned they'd tip off their seats entirely. Ginny, sitting quietly at the edge of the group, was pretending to pluck imaginary daisies while very obviously listening harder than anyone else.
None of them got anything more out of Hagrid, though, no matter how much they shuffled, stared, and whispered behind their hands. When Hagrid finished his breakfast, he patted his stomach — sending ripples through the table — and thanked Molly profusely yet again before lumbering off to "check summat with the chickens."
The moment he disappeared around the corner, the backyard dissolved into activity.
Ron grabbed Harry by the sleeve. "C'mon, I'll give you the grand tour."
It was less a grand tour and more a winding trek through all the Burrow's delightful chaos: the pond with the cranky garden gnomes lurking nearby, the crooked broom shed filled with half-repaired bristles, and an overgrown patch of herbs where something unidentifiable hissed at them before slithering deeper into the leaves.
"Don't touch that," Ron warned, grabbing Harry's arm as he leaned closer. "Fred swears it's harmless, but that's because Fred's a liar."
Harry laughed and followed him along the garden path. Somewhere behind them, they could faintly hear the twins yelling and the sound of something crashing — which probably meant an experiment had gone either spectacularly well or horribly wrong. Ginny had vanished entirely after being shooed away from the yard earlier, though Harry suspected she was hiding in her room rather than risking getting roped into the twins' latest scheme. Meanwhile, Percy was reading Prefect's code of conduct in his room.
Time slipped by faster than Harry realised. The sun climbed higher, burning off the last of the morning mist, and by the time they wandered back toward the house, the air was warm and buzzing lazily with summer insects.
They ended up in Ron's room, where a battered wizard's chessboard waited on the floor. Harry, despite having read about wizard's chess, had never actually played before. Ron offered to teach him, which Harry quickly realised was code for watch Ron humiliate him at an alarming speed.
"No, no, no," Ron groaned as Harry hesitated over moving his bishop. "If you move there, you're done for in four moves."
Harry frowned. "What if I don't?"
"Then you're done for in five."
Ginny had reappeared by then and was sitting cross-legged on Ron's bed, pretending to read a book while obviously following every move on the board. Occasionally, she'd hide a smirk behind the pages whenever one of Harry's pieces was brutally dismantled.
By the time Ron had Harry down to three pawns and a battered knight, the twins burst in without knocking, naturally.
"Still alive, Ronniekins?" Fred asked innocently.
"Or should we call a healer for Harry's pride?" George added, peering over his shoulder.
Ron scowled. "He's learning."
"Learning how to lose spectacularly," Fred said cheerfully.
Before Ron could retaliate, Molly's voice carried up the stairs: "Harry! Come down, dear!"
Ron sighed dramatically, leaning back on his elbows. "Saved by the Mum. Pity, really — you'd have been dead in seven moves."
Harry gave him a look, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal.
Ron just shrugged, grinning smugly.
Together, the four of them — plus Ginny, who abandoned her book without hesitation — trooped down the stairs. Harry was halfway through wondering if Molly wanted him for another meal prep or something equally harmless when he stepped into the living room — and froze.
Because sitting in an armchair by the hearth, sipping tea as though he had all the time in the world, was Albus Dumbledore.
The sunlight filtering through the crooked windows caught on his half-moon spectacles and silver beard, making him look less like a man and more like something the word wizard had been invented for. His bright blue eyes twinkled as they settled on Harry, warm and knowing, like he'd been expecting him all along.