Fred and George were getting chased around by Mrs. Weasley again.
"Pretty normal," Ron said, strolling over and tossing Seán an apple.
Seán was busy watching the kitchen sink, where used knives were scrubbing themselves clean with a cheerful ping-pong rhythm.
"Hey, Seán, it's vacation," Ron said, crunching into his own apple.
…
Mr. Weasley came home.
He'd clearly known Seán was coming. The twins had told him:
> "It's the great… well, a wizard who's just as good at alchemy as we are… wants to see the Burrow's layout and the flying car…"
The second he stepped inside, Mr. Weasley shut the door, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth to speak, then spotted Seán staring at the self-cleaning dishes.
A quiet-looking little wizard.
That's what he thought.
"Mr. Green?"
"Hey, Mr. Weasley."
Seán nodded. When he saw Mr. Weasley yank off his glasses, slump into a kitchen chair with his eyes closed, Seán went back to the dishes.
He'd caught a hint of the trick and just needed to test it…
The kitchen smelled amazing. The long table was practically groaning under giant ceramic dishes. Center stage: a golden roast chicken, surrounded by mountains of gravy-soaked roast potatoes. Buttered peas and carrots gleamed in the firelight.
Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand; a huge bowl of stew landed perfectly on the tablecloth.
"Dig in while it's hot, kids!"
Her cheeks were rosy as she brought over a stack of fluffy puddings.
George speared a drumstick first. Fred fake-whined but snatched a wing in a blur.
Ron's plate was already a food tower; he was fighting to keep gravy off his shirt. Percy was still grading every dish like a food critic.
"Mom, this—"
Percy frowned, caught Mrs. Weasley's glare, and pivoted instantly.
"It's… fine."
"These peas are great," Mr. Weasley said, eyes squinting happily behind his glasses.
A tiny red-haired witch (Ginny) just ate quietly.
Mrs. Weasley watched everyone's reactions. This was one of her favorite moments.
"Rough day, though," Mr. Weasley continued. "Ministry's doing random raids again."
"Find anything, Dad?" Fred asked.
"Just a few shrinking door keys."
Mr. Weasley yawned.
"Why would anyone make shrinking keys?" George wondered.
"To mess with Muggles," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Sell a Muggle a key, it shrinks to nothing, then they can't find it when they need it… Of course, no Muggle will admit their key shrank. They'll swear they lost it.
"Muggles can ignore magic even when it's staring them in the face…"
He was about to keep going when the twins started jabbing his sides. Even Molly shot him a death glare.
That's when he remembered: there was a Muggle-born wizard at the table.
They all turned to Seán, who was locked in a fierce battle with his pudding.
"Don't say stuff like that. Little Green's Muggle-born," Mrs. Weasley said, relieved, then barreled on. "But you do need to look into this. Fred and George snuck off to the shop again, without a word! And they took little Green with them. Anything to say for yourselves, hmm?"
"Really?" Mr. Weasley asked quickly. "You're opening the joke shop with Green? I mean—"
Mrs. Weasley's eyes blazed. He backpedaled fast.
"That's very wrong, kids. Very, very wrong…"
Mrs. Weasley puffed up like a bullfrog.
"They're gonna argue for a while," Ron whispered after a beat. "You done eating? Wanna go de-gnome the garden?"
Gnomes?
That got Seán's attention.
"Hope your parents don't fight like mine," Ron said as they slipped outside, pointing out the gnome burrows.
Something weird hit Ron: the garden gnomes were about to get evicted. If Seán couldn't fix something, nothing could. They'd proven that a hundred times.
Seán didn't say anything. For some reason, he thought of the quiet Professor McGonagall… and Snape.
He just nodded.
Clearing gnomes was easy: grab one, spin it till it's dizzy, chuck it over the garden wall. Keeps them from finding their burrows.
"That's what Ron said."
Then they watched a wobbly parade of gnomes flying through the air, landing in a dazed line, shrugging tiny shoulders, and some even crying at Seán's feet.
Seán stared, curious. Was his Magical Creature Affinity that strong?
Ginny, who'd just run out, gawked.
"Well, we can't get rid of them for good anyway," Ron sighed. "They always come back. They like it here… Dad's too soft. Thinks they're funny."
"No wonder you keep the Forbidden Forest in line," Ron muttered.
…
Life at the Burrow was steady.
Mrs. Weasley was home a lot, so Seán started learning household charms from her.
"Household" magic? Yeah, right. It was hard.
She taught him everything.
Seán started piecing it together.
"When you use different power levels, you instinctively split your magic into portions. Like knitting: one stream moves the needles, another moves the yarn…
"Or washing dishes: most of your focus goes to the cloth, just a tiny bit keeps the bowls floating…
"That's how wizards do complex stuff, splitting magic into simple, uneven chunks…"
Seán explained. Mrs. Weasley listened quietly, her plump silhouette glowing kindly in the sunlight.
"Brilliant, little Green. That's not easy to grasp."
She carefully pulled a clean notebook from the living room's pile of old books.
Her own occasional notes.
"Didn't think anyone would want to learn this… oh, don't mind the mess."
Seán stared at the notebook like it was a grimoire. Hardly any wizard studied magic this finely.
Most were happy with 80% efficiency. But now, Seán might've found the next step.