On a clear, late summer night, the Harris family courtyard was a picture of rustic, natural serenity. Morgan LeFay and Daisy had finally returned, bringing an atmosphere of lively chat and soft laughter that filled the gentle summer breeze.
They had gathered on the patio to cool off, sipping chilled lemon squash while Owen Harris showed Albert a new, complex Muggle crossword puzzle he was attempting to solve. Harry, still slightly shy around strangers, sat quietly near Allen, enjoying the relaxed and peaceful atmosphere.
Just then, the idyllic scene was violently interrupted. A sound like a particularly furious, over-revved lawnmower ripped through the air, quickly followed by the sight of two bright, star-like lights falling straight down towards the distant courtyard. As they got closer, everyone realized the "stars" were the two headlights of a large, flying, bright-green sedan!
"Look out! Get out of the way!" a child's panicked voice, high and strained, yelled from the direction of the rapidly descending vehicle.
Allen, whose reflexes had been honed by years of training and a recent battle with a sea serpent, acted instantly. He scooped up his perpetually curious little bear, Emily, who had toddled too close to the lawn, and sped away from the point of impact.
The car slammed into the ground with a tremendous, deafening crash, skidding across the pristine lawn. It tore a jagged, fifty-foot furrow in the grass before finally shuddering to a stop just inches from impacting the magnificent cherry tree in the garden's corner.
The explosion of noise and metal startled Lenn, who was in his room trying to concentrate on writing a highly embellished report for his superiors about the 'logistical challenges' of the medal ceremony. He quickly flung open his window and was utterly shocked to see a battered, bright-green Muggle car sitting aggressively in the middle of their perfect lawn.
He dropped his parchment, which scattered pages to the ground, and ran downstairs, his practiced Auror composure momentarily shattered, desperate to see what chaotic event had transpired.
Three children with equally bright red hair tumbled out of the car, looking pale, guilty, and winded.
"We are terribly sorry, Mr. Harris, sir! We completely messed up your beautiful garden!" Ron and his twin brother, George, stepped forward, their usual playful cheekiness replaced by an unusually sincere embarrassment. George, trying to be the most polite, offered a hasty, deeply apologetic bow to Owen Harris.
"I'm not worried about the garden, children. Magic can fix a lawn far easier than it can fix a broken neck," Mr. Harris replied, his voice firm but containing a barely concealed note of intrigue.
He recognized the three Weasley brothers from his brief, formal interactions with Arthur Weasley at Ministry events. "What I want to know is: Does Arthur know you came here like this, riding in what appears to be a heavily modified, self-flying, Muggle vehicle?"
Ron, desperate and clearly rehearsing a plea for silence, immediately lowered his voice. "Our father absolutely does not know we 'borrowed' his car, Mr. Harris, sir. Please, we beg you, keep this a total secret."
Morgan LeFay finally intervened, a gentle but firm smile gracing her lips. "Well, before we discuss international laws regarding enchanted automobiles, let's all sit down. Daisy, dear, bring out some of those chilled drinks."
Although these uninvited guests were teenagers who had just committed a massive property offense, she was determined to fulfill her duties as a gracious hostess and ease the palpable tension.
"Reparo! It's been restored to its original state." With a flick of her wand, and then another non-verbal command, Morgan LeFay skillfully used her magic. The enormous furrow in the garden instantly vanished, the disturbed earth settling back into a seamless, perfect lawn.
Everything in the courtyard, except for the massive, very real flying car, was restored to its pristine condition. Daisy, ever eager to please and meet new people, hurried back from the kitchen with a tray of various delicious treats, eager to welcome Ron and his brothers.
Fred, who seemed to have recovered his composure the fastest and was now eyeing the untouched scones, immediately turned to Harry. "What in the name of Merlin's beard is going on, Harry? Why haven't you answered my letters? We invited you a dozen times! Then, Dad came home and said he got a memo from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures saying you used magic in front of Muggles and got an official warning from the Ministry…"
"Me? I got a warning? How could he possibly know that? I was locked in a room!" Harry asked in sheer astonishment, outraged that the Ministry was penalizing him for accidental magic when he was in solitary confinement, yet apparently unaware of the illegal charm on the pudding or the subsequent property destruction.
"He's an authority figure, mate," Ron explained, shrugging off the concept of surveillance as a mundane reality. "You know the rules—we can't use magic outside of school, especially not in front of Muggles. It's the law."
Harry couldn't help but gesture sharply at the dented, impossible vehicle sitting mere feet away. "It's easy for you to stand there and lecture me, Ron, when you arrive in this… this thing!"
"Oh, that doesn't count," Ron countered immediately, his face lighting up with a Weasley-specific brand of dubious self-justification. "We just borrowed it. It's Dad's car, and he was the one who put the charms on it. We didn't actually perform any magic ourselves tonight. We just drove it. But you used magic on the Muggles you live with—that's a much bigger problem!"
Just as Harry was about to launch into a full, furious recounting of his unfortunate, Dobby-induced experience, Fred interrupted him with a strategic diversion.
"Harry, save the Ministry rant for later. We're here on a mission to take you straight to the Burrow. We didn't see you at the Dursleys'—obviously, because you were locked up—but we ran into Hedwig about halfway here. She gave us your letter, so we came straight here. We need to hurry. If we don't get moving, Dad will realize the car is gone and find out everything before we get you home!"
Allen listened, smiling faintly at Fred's desperate plea for haste. What an innocent child! He hadn't expected the Weasley boys to be worried about his father keeping the secret.
On the contrary, Mr. Harris was absolutely fascinated. He walked around the massive, dented car, examining its rust-colored undercarriage and the highly visible modifications from every conceivable angle, like a Ministry inspector who had found his dream hobby project.
"Now, tell me honestly," Mr. Harris asked George with intense, professional interest, crouching low to inspect a wing mirror. "What is the performance like after the modifications? And how does it compare to the classic, Ministry-approved magically powered automobiles? The ones they use for transport, not the experimental ones."
"Hmm, very good, sir! The performance is exceptional for a Muggle vehicle," George Weasley replied proudly, puffing out his chest. Then, his confidence waned slightly. "But… well, Mr. Harris, you know we don't own any of those expensive, special Ministry cars. We can't really compare it to anything magical, just Muggle cars."
Harry stood there, conflicted. Allen had just rescued him from the Dursleys, given him sanctuary, and provided a safe place to land. Now, Ron and his brothers had risked life and Ministry sanction to come and get him, proving their friendship. He really didn't know what the right, most polite decision was.
Allen, ever the pragmatic strategist, stepped in, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It really wasn't easy for Harry, Ron, and the others to pick you up in this magnificent... machine. You've never been to his house before, so you should go on holiday to Ron's house first. It's what friends do. And then, once you've spent some time there, you can come back and spend the rest of the break with us before school starts."
Allen felt he had already gained immense goodwill with Harry, and letting him experience the vibrant, chaotic warmth of the Burrow first would only strengthen Harry's emotional bonds with the wizarding world—and, indirectly, with Allen himself.
"Okay, Allen, that sounds perfect. Thank you," Harry said gratefully, looking relieved that the decision had been made for him.
The three Weasley brothers immediately cheered, ecstatic that their daring rescue had not been in vain.
Allen helped Harry bring the shrinking box containing his trunk back down from the bedroom. Luckily, everything was still safely inside and hadn't been unpacked, which saved time.
"Hold on a moment, boys," Owen Harris interjected seriously, though his eyes were still twinkling with enthusiasm. He wasn't planning to let this adventure end just yet; he was actively planning to experience what it was like to modify a car like a Muggle and then fly it.
"I can't leave you boys to fly this... thing on your own, especially with a fresh Ministry warning in play. It's against regulations, and frankly, I want to observe the handling firsthand."
Ron and the Weasley brothers exchanged glances. They knew better than to argue with an authoritative Ministry official who was also armed with a fresh Order of Merlin. "Alright, Mr. Harris, but please, please keep this secret from our mum. And Dad, obviously."
"No problem at all, boys. Consider me sworn to silence," Owen said, his grin widening. He didn't hesitate for a moment. He quickly strode to the driver's side, opened the door, and slid behind the wheel, turning to his wife. "Honey, I'll just take them home and be right back. Think of it as essential Ministerial surveillance."
What could Morgan LeFay say to that combination of genuine curiosity and blatant excitement? She simply nodded with a resigned sigh, a faint smile playing on her lips, and shoved the remaining snacks and drinks into the children's arms.
With a deep, guttural roar of its enchanted engine, the flying Ford Anglia then lifted awkwardly into the moonlight, accelerating rapidly and speeding off towards the distant horizon, a bizarre, metallic chariot cutting a fast, silvery path toward the moon.
After a long, event-filled day—and a highly successful bit of long-term planning—Allen stretched luxuriously. He helped his mother clear the tea tray, listening to her amused monologue about the "charming, if catastrophically clumsy, Weasley boys."
He then told his chubby little bear, Emily, a simple, sweet bedtime story about a polite sea serpent and a brave wizard, and finally retired to his room for a well-deserved rest.
Meanwhile, as a faint reddish glow began to appear on the eastern horizon, signaling the imminent arrival of dawn, Mr. Harris and his young companions were approaching their destination. Mr. Harris expertly lowered the carriage slightly, and Harry could make out the dark, patchwork patterns of fields and clusters of trees below.
"We're just outside the village now," George whispered excitedly, pointing down. "We can set her down!"
The car descended further, and the reddish edge of the sun was already beginning to peer out from behind the distant, wooded ridge.
"Landing in three... two... one... Now!" shouted Fred, and the car jolted significantly before its tires finally kissed the rough, dew-damp ground. They had landed neatly next to a dilapidated garage, surrounded by a small, riotous garden. The Burrow—they had arrived.
Owen Harris, having thoroughly satisfied his curiosity and enjoyed the thrill of illegally operating an enchanted vehicle for several hundred miles, jumped out of the car. He quickly offered the boys a firm handshake, reminding them of the oath of silence regarding the transportation method, and then, with a soft pop, he instantly Apparated out of the garden, disappearing into the cold morning mist.
Molly Weasley's formidable reputation was well-known, even at the Ministry, and he had no desire to be caught joking around with her children in their front yard, especially when they were involved in stolen property.
Life for Allen continued uneventfully thereafter. The receiving of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, seemed to have had little lasting impact on his structured life. He maintained his regular routine: vigorous physical exercise, methodical reading of advanced magic books, explaining various simplified magical concepts to Emily, and playing quiet, focused games with her. He was building his foundation, piece by piece, far from the chaos of the Boy Who Lived.
After a pleasant and happy week of focused self-improvement, on a sunny, quiet morning, Allen received a familiar letter from Hogwarts. It arrived in a pale yellow parchment envelope, sealed with the heavy, green wax of the school crest. The letter also contained the obligatory list of new books he would be reading that year.
Second-year students should ensure they possess the following texts:
Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2
Gilderoy Lockhart's Break with a Banshee
Gilderoy Lockhart's Gadding with Ghouls
Gilderoy Lockhart's Holidays with Hags
Gilderoy Lockhart's Travels with Trolls
Gilderoy Lockhart's Voyages with Vampires
Gilderoy Lockhart's Wanderings with Werewolves
Gilderoy Lockhart's Year with a Yeti
Allen's gaze unconsciously drifted to the small, mahogany bookcase beside the sofa. All eight of the self-aggrandizing Lockhart books on his reading list were already neatly arranged there. His mother, Morgan LeFay, and his sister, Daisy, were both avid, borderline obsessive fans of the man's publicized exploits.
"Well, there's your answer, son." Father Owen concluded, taking the reading list from Allen's hand and looking over the titles with a look that mixed amusement and professional dismay.
"It looks like Gilderoy Lockhart didn't just pass Professor Dumbledore's interview; he steamrolled it and then published the entire curriculum. He is officially your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Owen shook his head, a wry smile spreading across his face.
"I suppose we should prepare for an academic year that is... less about Dark Arts defense and more about photo opportunities."