Hermione gently patted her parents' backs in concern. Arthur stood nearby, awkwardly rubbing his hands. When he noticed Vaughn looking over, he grimaced.
"Er… I didn't realize Muggles would find it this hard to adapt…"
Vaughn rolled his eyes.
To be fair, he hadn't expected it either. When they first boarded the Knight Bus, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had seemed perfectly fine.
That illusion shattered after the bus performed four emergency stops in a row—swerving to avoid cats, old ladies, and finally opting to slide across the rooftops instead of following the road.
The sudden weightlessness, combined with sheer magical shock, made the Grangers feel as though they'd been tossed into a washing machine.
They still hadn't fully recovered.
Still, after Hermione rubbed their backs for a while, both parents managed to straighten up stubbornly.
It had to be said—the Knight Bus was excellent training.
At the very least, when Mrs. Granger dabbed her mouth and looked at the Burrow, instead of crying "Oh my God," she calmly asked Vaughn,
"My dear, is this the place?"
"Yes, ma'am—welcome—"
Before Vaughn could finish, Molly burst out the door, voice shrill with excitement.
"Welcome, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Granger! And you too, my dear Hermione—come in, come in! Dinner will be ready any moment!"
Behind her came Percy, Fred, George—and Ron, clutching Scabbers while Crookshanks eyed the rat with open hostility.
"Good evening, Mrs. Weasley…"
"Oh my, you look so young and lovely—just like Hermione…"
"Good heavens, is that pan cooking by itself? How wonderfully convenient…"
"I've always been curious about certain Muggle things—lipstick, face cream… is that the right word? Forgive me, I don't know much…"
"…Yes, I like Vaughn very much. He visited our home once—I was quite taken with him…"
"…Hermione is a wonderful girl, truly. Clever, beautiful—who wouldn't praise her? I'm so pleased she and Vaughn are friends…"
Molly chatted nonstop while cooking, her enthusiasm boundless.
Middle-aged women formed friendships at astonishing speed—within minutes of polite compliments and mutual praise.
Laughter echoed throughout the Burrow.
Normally, such conversations would be led by the men—but Arthur and Mr. Granger, both suffering from similar "family rank issues," quickly found common ground and retreated into hushed discussion.
At the dining table, Fred and George waggled their eyebrows at Hermione.
Even Percy—who'd seemed gloomy these past few days—forced a smile and welcomed her warmly. He'd always admired Hermione, and once she and Vaughn became a couple, no one was happier than Percy.
In his view, among their entire year, only Hermione's grades truly matched Vaughn's.
"Granger, you look absolutely brilliant today," Percy said sincerely.
Fred and George piled on.
"Brilliant? That's an understatement!"
"You're stating the obvious, Fred," George added.
Hermione smiled politely.
Then she noticed someone staring at her.
Ron.
He sat in the shadows, clutching Scabbers, his resentment practically spilling out of his eyes.
"Oh—hi, Ronald," Hermione waved.
"Hmph," Ron snorted. "Good evening, Miss Granger."
Hermione ignored him—accustomed to his sulks—and glanced around instead.
"Where's Ginny? Vaughn talks about her all the time. I didn't really get a chance to speak with her at King's Cross."
The Weasley brothers exchanged looks and snickered.
In falsetto, the twins chorused,
"Mummy, Mummy! I don't want Vaughn to have a girlfriend!"
Fred deepened his voice.
"And why's that, Ginny?"
"If he has a girlfriend, he won't love me anymore!"
The twins slapped the table, laughing.
"Our sweet little sister's jealous, Hermione! She says she hates you and never wants to meet you!"
Percy and Ron burst out laughing too.
Then a furious shriek came from above.
"I never said that!"
"Yes, you did!"
"And you also said—'Mummy, if Vaughn has a girlfriend, I can't sleep in his room anymore. Can we chase her away?'"
"AAAH—FRED! GEORGE!"
A door slammed.
No one took the tantrum seriously. Hermione found it amusing.
She tugged Vaughn's sleeve and whispered,
"Take me upstairs. I want to talk to her."
"At once, beautiful Miss Granger."
"Oh, stop it—"
The brothers' smiles faded as they watched the two flirt shamelessly.
Disgusting. The stench of young love.
After a private chat upstairs, Ginny eventually came back down—hand in hand with Hermione, cheerful as could be.
Growing up with seven brothers, Ginny had been doted on—but also lonely.
Now eleven, she was beginning to face things she couldn't talk about with Vaughn, no matter how close they were.
She needed a female friend.
As for how Hermione—strict, serious, and rule-bound—managed to get along so well with her?
Love worked miracles.
That, and a year of exposure to Harry and Ron.
Hermione brought gifts too—a pretty dress for Ginny, approved by Mrs. Granger's impeccable taste.
Naturally, everyone received something.
Before dinner, Hermione opened the small satchel Vaughn had given her and laid out the gifts.
Arthur received a Muggle book, Foundations of Electromagnetic Fields, chosen on Vaughn's advice.
Molly received French and Eastern Cuisine Recipes. British cookbooks were excluded for obvious reasons—after all, the three thinnest books in the world were said to be: British cuisine, German humor, and Italian war heroes.
Percy received productivity books. Useful or not, they looked impressive.
Fred and George got basic science collections.
Ron received an entire crate of Muggle sweets.
Seeing his wildly different gift, Ron turned red.
"Actually… I like studying too…"
Vaughn and Hermione simply smiled.
The Weasleys adored Hermione. The welcoming dinner was warm and lively.
Children laughed, adults bonded, and Mrs. Granger and Molly—two undisputed household authorities—talked endlessly about magic, Muggles, and education.
Mr. Granger was mild-mannered, but when Arthur disparaged football in favor of Quidditch, he finally rose to the challenge.
Dinner was harmonious overall.
Influenced by Vaughn, the Weasleys favored Chinese-style cooking these days—but Molly adapted the flavors to suit Muggle tastes.
Spicy and savory became sweet-and-sour.
Vaughn had mixed feelings—but the Grangers loved it.
"You're a culinary genius, Mrs. Weasley," Mrs. Granger praised. "This… huoguo? Sweet, rich, tangy—it's like lemon cheesecake in a pot!"
Across the table, Vaughn poked suspiciously at his food.
From Hermione's enthusiasm, however, it seemed genuine.
While the Burrow overflowed with warmth, far away in the Scottish Highlands, the last seventh-years were leaving Hogwarts.
The WAC recruitment fair concluded that night.
Over two days, Remus Lupin explained duties, benefits, and prospects in detail.
Nine graduates signed contracts—including Phil Travers of Slytherin. Around seven more remained undecided.
Lupin wasn't satisfied.
Afterward, he wandered the empty castle, thinking.
Summer Hogwarts was peaceful. Without students, plants grew wildly, bathed in twilight like a rich impressionist painting.
He plucked a sprig of lavender, walking beneath arches.
"Worried about recruitment?" Dumbledore's voice asked.
Lupin turned. The Headmaster stood behind him, hands folded, smiling.
"Yes. We need more witches and wizards. Graduates prefer the Ministry… except Slytherin."
"Yes," Dumbledore mused. "Vaughn's influence there reminds me of Voldemort decades ago."
Lupin frowned.
"I don't want to discuss that."
"My apologies, Remus—I meant it as praise," Dumbledore said gently. "Slytherin respects strength. Few have ever commanded that respect. Voldemort—and Vaughn."
"And you," Lupin added quietly.
Dumbledore laughed heartily.
After a pause, Dumbledore asked,
"Did you notice the film shown in the Great Hall?"
"Harry and the Painted World. I saw it."
"I expected you'd question me. The students think it fiction—but you know it's real."
Lupin gazed at the flowers outside.
"We all knew the prophecy. When Voldemort attacked the Potters, I knew he'd return someday—fate demanded it."
Then he asked hesitantly,
"How do you think Harry did?"
"Exceptionally well!" Dumbledore said brightly.
Lupin's eye twitched.
"With respect, he was toyed with. Hermione Granger showed far more promise."
"Oh—that's Vaughn Weasley's girlfriend," Dumbledore added cheerfully. "They're visiting the Burrow now."
"They're twelve!" Lupin blurted.
"Vaughn is. Hermione is thirteen."
Lupin felt physical pain.
Dumbledore sighed softly.
"How I wish Vaughn and Harry could trade places."
Lupin said nothing.
"Did you notice?" Dumbledore continued. "Vaughn stood between Harry and Tom—and still killed Tom."
Lupin froze.
"…He isn't bound by their fate."
"Not entirely. More importantly—his fate can influence theirs."
Dumbledore explained the ripples in destiny—the founding of the WAC.
"You're part of it now, Remus."
Before leaving, Dumbledore drew a silvery thread of memory and handed it to Lupin.
"Keep it. When the time is right, it will unlock."
Then he vanished into the darkening corridor.
That night, tents were erected outside the Burrow.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger stared in awe at the magically expanded space.
Later, Mrs. Granger murmured,
"Magic really is astonishing, isn't it?"
Mr. Granger hesitated.
"I worry about Hermione…"
"Oh, don't be silly."
Meanwhile, Hermione loved the Burrow.
Everyone was kind—except Ron.
After her bath, she found him lurking.
"Can you not date Vaughn?" Ron blurted.
"Why?"
"You're my friend—like Harry. Can you imagine Harry dating Percy?!"
Hermione exploded.
"Go to bed, Ronald!"
She stormed upstairs—only to find Vaughn waiting.
Soon they sat together in the attic, moonlight spilling in.
The night grew quiet.
Then warmer.
Then—
Hermione fled laughing, locking Ginny's door behind her.
Vaughn sighed.
"Devious girl."
At dawn, Number Four, Privet Drive echoed with shouting.
Harry stood silently, Hedwig hidden behind him.
At last, a letter arrived.
Addressed in shaky handwriting:
Dear Harry Potter,
Your faithful friend,
Ron Weasley
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