The moment Bill's heart had settled on a new promise—to learn, to protect, to become strong—his feet carried him quietly through the winding halls of the Burrow, toward a little-known treasure hidden within its chaotic walls: the family library.
It was nothing grand. A small attic room tucked behind a tattered curtain, its creaky wooden floor covered with a thin, moth-eaten rug. The low ceiling forced Bill to bend slightly, and the single window was dusty and smeared, casting a faint grey light over the shelves. But what was crammed within those walls dazzled any who understood magic.
Seven long, narrow bookshelves wobbled under the weight of hundreds of volumes, their spines cracked, pages yellowed with age, and many tagged with tricky protective charms. This wasn't just any collection; it was the Weasley family's greatest treasure.
The books were a testament to knowledge gathered cleverly despite modest means—hand-me-down spell manuals, alchemical treatises scribbled in faded ink, weather-worn journals of herb tests, and rare copies of potion recipes. Because true power lived in secrets—books too dangerous or complex to be left where prying eyes could find them.
Bill's fingers brushed the covers reverently. Here was the family's legacy, their true wealth beyond gold or jewels.
Despite his tender age of five and the awkwardness of not yet being able to hold a wand properly, Bill recognized where to begin. Magic was not only about flashy spells or dueling powers. It flowed quietly through the roots of a plant, the bitterness of a crushed herb, and the mystical reactions in a bubbling cauldron.
His new secret ability, the golden finger of appraisal, would amplify his understanding in potions, alchemy, and herbology alike—but first, the foundation had to be laid.
Bill pulled from the shelf the oldest and most respected herbology book he could find: "The thousand Magical Herbs" Its cover was embroidered with faded silver vines, and the pages whispered of the shy power of plants, their virtues and dangers alike. He took the book from the shelf and started reading it sitting on the floor.
Bill was so absorbed in the worn pages of The thousand Magical Herbs that he didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching. Molly Weasley paused in the doorway for a moment, her warm eyes smiling as she watched her eldest son, so engrossed and so peaceful.
She stepped gently into the room, not wanting to startle him. "Bill, my darling, you're up here all alone," she said softly, brushing a stray lock of red hair from his forehead. "I see you've found the family library."
Bill looked up, cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and shyness. "I want to learn, Mum. I want to be strong and clever—like Father says."
Molly settled beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "You're such a thoughtful boy. Everything you need is right here, but remember to take your time. Great witches and wizards aren't made overnight—they grow from patience and love."
Her voice softened with the kind of motherly pride that only a woman who'd raised seven strong children could carry. "You have a gift, Bill. Your curiosity, your kindness—they'll make you great one day. But don't forget, being gentle is a strength too. Keep learning, keep listening—and when you're ready, the world will need you."
Bill smiled, comforted by her words and the warmth of her presence. He returned his gaze to the book, feeling a little less alone in the big journey ahead.
Behind Molly, the distant laughter of Charlie playing in the garden and the soft coos of baby Percy floated in, a reminder that Bill was not only growing for himself but for his family who depended on him.
And so, in the quiet attic of the Burrow, surrounded by fragile pages and gentle encouragement, Bill's journey truly began.