That Christmas, the second Weasley brother, Charlie Weasley, came home.
He had a broad, good-natured face, weathered by wind and sun, covered in freckles until his skin was almost a dark brown.
His arms were solid with muscle, and even in winter he was wearing a sleeveless padded vest. The bare parts of his arms showed patches of stark white skin where the flames had burned him.
It was those injuries that had brought him back for Christmas.
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears as she wrapped her arms around her second son.
Charlie took after her more than the others; he was shorter and stockier than his brothers.
Even so, with Mrs. Weasley holding him, he still stood a good head taller than her.
"I still can't believe something like that happened," Mrs. Weasley said shakily. "And I can't believe it was you."
"It's okay, Mum," Charlie said, patting her on the back.
Harry was spending this Christmas between the Burrow and the old Black manor. When he saw Charlie, he couldn't help wondering why Charlie had come back.
Ron went over to greet his brother. When he caught sight of Charlie's pale arm, he stared and exclaimed, "Since when did you start whitening your skin?"
"This isn't whitening, Ronnie," Charlie said lightly, stretching out his arm. "This is dragon fire."
Looking more closely, it wasn't truly white at all. It was skin that had been scalded off by the flames.
Harry didn't dare imagine how much that must have hurt.
Charlie glanced at the time and muttered, "Gotta put on the ointment again."
His exposed skin brushed against his clothes, making him wince and bare his teeth in pain.
"I'll help you," Ron said quickly, rushing over to his brother.
Harry went over as well.
Each of them took a clam-shaped scoop of ointment and began applying it to the pale patches on Charlie's arm.
The cool ointment made Charlie hum under his breath, clearly relieved.
The Weasley twins had just returned. When they saw Charlie's condition, they sauntered over with identical grins. "Need burn salve? Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, always at your service."
"George."
"Please, I'm George."
The twin standing beside him spread his hands in exasperation.
Charlie said, "Can't you, just once, cut your big brother some slack and not make me look like an idiot?"
The twins were used to being mixed up.
Bill had also come home, bringing his girlfriend Fleur with him. When the two of them saw Charlie's injuries, they were just as startled.
"Dragons," Charlie explained. "I was assigned to track one, but it spotted me and— hiss… a little gentler, Ron."
Ron's fingernail brushed against Charlie's skin, making him suck in a sharp breath.
Bill frowned. "Why were you lot tracking dragons in the first place?"
Charlie was just about to answer when Harry suddenly said, "Dragon King."
"What?" Everyone froze and looked at him.
Seeing their reactions, Harry explained, "A dragon tamer mentioned it at Slughorn's party."
Charlie nodded. "You mean Werner, right? He always talks about his mentor."
"Dragon King?" Ron asked quickly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Charlie said, slipping into his role as a dragon tamer. "The lord of dragons. The king. Their leader."
"Romanian tamers suspect the large-scale dragon escapes happened because the dragons have a king of their own now."
More people were arriving at the Burrow. Besides Harry, Lupin and Sirius had come as well.
They all listened to Charlie speak.
"There have been dragon escapes before, but never on this scale. We went to investigate and track them to figure out why," Charlie said with a wry smile. "But we underestimated how alert they've become. A Hungarian Horntail burned me."
"A Hungarian Horntail?" Fleur repeated softly at the name of the breed.
In her mind, an image flashed—a dragon chasing close behind. She said nothing.
The youngest Weasley, Ginny, was picturing a thousand dragons filling a valley.
She thought about it for a moment, then shook the absurd idea out of her head.
Even John couldn't possibly control dragons as their king.
"All right," Mrs. Weasley cut into their storytelling, "make some room, it's time to eat."
Charlie's arm, now covered in ointment, finally looked a bit better.
Ginny asked in confusion, "Why not heal it with magic?"
"Dragon fire's poisonous," Charlie explained. "It can't be treated with magic."
The meal was satisfying, though Mrs. Weasley clearly didn't approve of the girlfriend Bill had brought home.
Harry ate a slice of freshly baked apple pie and asked, "Where's Dumbledore?"
Lupin replied, "He's at Hogwarts. Most likely enjoying a proper dinner with the professors."
"Tonks didn't come back either," Harry said, glancing along the long table.
Sirius leaned over and whispered, "Molly invites her whenever she gets the chance. We all know she's hoping Tonks will be Bill's girlfriend."
As he spoke, Sirius discreetly glanced toward Fleur.
Harry was stunned. No wonder Tonks had smiled so awkwardly last time Mrs. Weasley dragged her aside.
The Burrow had always felt like home to Harry; he truly loved it here.
Sirius chose to stay as well—he didn't want to set eyes on Kreacher back at the old Black manor.
After dinner, Fleur left with Bill.
They were still very much in their honeymoon phase.
Lupin also headed out, saying he needed to keep an eye on what was happening outside.
Harry lay in bed, turned his head, and saw his godfather nearby.
It was a life he never dared imagine.
"What is it, Harry?" Sirius noticed Harry looking at him and turned his head.
Seeing his godfather, Harry couldn't help smiling. "Sirius."
"Mm?"
"Thank you for being alive."
"That's what I should be saying to you," Sirius said, still carrying that effortless charm. "Harry, good night."
"Good night, Sirius."
…
After spending three days at the Burrow, Harry had been planning to return to the Black manor with Sirius.
But Fred, one of the Weasley twins, told them there was a Quidditch match happening between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley.
Sirius waved his hand grandly and said they were going.
Mrs. Weasley exploded. "No! You! Are! Not!"
Sirius raised his hands helplessly. "Come on, Molly. No one is mad enough to start killing people in front of thousands of witches and wizards in Diagon Alley."
But Mrs. Weasley still blocked the doorway.
Her reaction wasn't without reason.
The Weasley family clock still pointed to mortal danger.
As a mother, she refused to let her children take risks.
"Fine, fine, Molly, you win," Sirius said, sounding as if he'd been persuaded.
Harry, Ron, and Ginny were crushed—this was probably the one chance during the holidays they might actually get to go out.
Sirius led them upstairs, and once Mrs. Weasley saw them giving up, she stepped away from the doorway.
But the moment she entered the kitchen, Sirius and the three kids tiptoed out the front door.
The thrill of defying Mrs. Weasley made all three children tremble with excitement.
Just as they slipped outside, Ron accidentally bumped into a broom.
The broom fell, clattering loudly and alerting Mrs. Weasley.
"Run!" Sirius shouted.
They bolted out of the house.
Once they were past the Anti-Disapparition Zone, Sirius told the three of them to grab his arm.
Under Mrs. Weasley's furious glare, they vanished.
When they reappeared, they were already in the bustling crowds of Diagon Alley.
A white Christmas had left frost on the eaves of every shop.
Because of the sheer number of people, Sirius had to raise his voice. "Hold hands—don't get separated!"
He grabbed Ron's hand; Ron grabbed Harry's.
Harry glanced at Ginny, and that faint feeling stirred again. He reached out.
Ginny took his hand, a spark running through Harry's fingertips that made him grip her tighter, unwilling to let go.
Diagon Alley was packed, practically shoulder to shoulder.
They squeezed their way with great effort toward Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. George and Fred were standing on high stools; George was shouting, "Tickets here! One at a time!"
Fred held up red and green shirts, yelling, "Support the Diagon Alley team—pick red! Knockturn Alley—pick green!"
Aside from shirts, all kinds of supporter merchandise were being sold.
"Four Diagon Alley shirts!" Harry finally squeezed his way to the front and shouted, "And four tickets!"
Without even looking, George shoved the shirts and tickets toward him. "Just go through the door."
Harry was practically pushed back by the crowd. He managed to find his godfather again—but only for a moment, because as soon as they approached the entrance, he was swept away by people once more.
The entrance was beside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Once they stepped through the bright red door, it felt like entering a completely different world.
A massive Quidditch stadium stretched out before them. After just a few steps, the suffocating crowd suddenly had room to breathe.
"Harry!" Sirius and Ron came over.
But Harry's attention was fixed on the sight before him.
"When did Diagon Alley get something like this?" he asked, eyes wide. The enormous stadium was only slightly smaller than the one used for the World Cup.
"It was originally a site for the Ministry's amusement park project. When they heard about the match, they lent it out."
The voice came from not far away. They turned and saw Mr. Weasley, with Bill and Charlie beside him.
Mr. Weasley looked around nervously and whispered, "Don't tell Molly."
He had used "going to work" as an excuse just to come watch the match.
Everyone regrouped quickly.
The Diagon Alley team and the Knockturn Alley team took the field.
When Ron saw the players, he clicked his tongue. "I'm not seeing things, right? That's the owner of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour!"
"And that one—that's the owner of the Quidditch Quality shop."
One familiar face after another appeared, leaving them all stunned.
The match began soon enough.
They expected fierce competition, but instead they watched Florean Fortescue pull a snowball from his pocket and smash it right into an opponent's face.
In no time, the Quidditch match had turned into a snowball fight.
And not just on the field—the stands erupted into snowball battles as well.
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