In all of Britain, there is only one village inhabited solely by wizards—Hogsmeade, nestled beside Hogwarts.
There are, of course, a handful of semi-wizarding villages, where witches and wizards live among tolerant Muggles or those who've been discreetly Confunded—like Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon.
It's just outside this village, on England's southern coast, that a peculiar, multi-storey house stands. It looks as if it's been cobbled together out of mismatched additions, teetering so precariously that a strong gust might topple it at any moment.
But despite appearances, this ramshackle house is sturdy as can be—its builders, after all, are wizards, and it's held together by more than just nails and wood. It's a home stitched together with magic.
The house has a name of its own: The Burrow.
And it's home to the Weasley family.
As everyone in the wizarding world knows, the Weasleys are an old and storied family. Their name is synonymous with justice, loyalty, courage, diligence, kindness… and, well, poverty.
Today, the Burrow was abuzz with excitement, for it was welcoming a guest from afar.
This guest had been brought all the way from Egypt by the eldest Weasley son, Bill Weasley.
"We had to use several Portkeys and then take Muggle transport, but we still managed to arrive before sunset," Bill said, a tired but happy smile on his face as he sipped the tea his mother handed him. Nothing felt quite as wonderful as being home again.
(A Portkey is a magical object used for long-distance travel—think of it as a teleporting artifact, rather like the Floo Network, but typically reserved for greater distances.)
Molly Weasley looked at her eldest with a mixture of pride and concern, ruffling his hair as she fussed, "Your hair's an absolute mess, Bill. I'll give it a trim later."
Bill could only flash his siblings a helpless grin.
Ah, the familiar warmth of a mother's love.
But Mrs. Weasley didn't forget their guest—a quiet, polite little boy named Adam, who seemed almost too well-mannered for his age.
"Adam, I'm afraid our house is a bit crowded. You'll probably have to share the fourth-floor bedroom with Bill, or you could bunk with Ron. You're about the same age—maybe you'll get along," Molly said apologetically.
"Mum…" Ron began, a note of panic in his voice.
His room was a mess, and the last thing he wanted was to share his bed with a stranger.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Weasley! I'll stay with Bill, as we planned on the way here," Adam replied, flashing Ron a gentle smile before turning politely back to Molly.
"Well, that's settled then. I'll go tidy up your room," Mrs. Weasley said, heading upstairs. She paused to call down, "Ron, fetch Adam something to eat, and don't let our guest go hungry!"
Why do I have to do it? George and Fred are just loafing around, Ron grumbled inwardly, but he didn't dare protest out loud. He slouched off to the kitchen, face set in a sulky pout.
…
That evening, eight members of the Weasley family (with Charlie away) and their little guest made nine crowded around the dinner table, tucking into a hearty meal.
Conversation naturally centered on Bill and their new visitor.
As was tradition, Bill had brought back small gifts for everyone—not expensive ones, but trinkets he'd crafted himself or treasures he'd been allowed to keep from curse-breaking expeditions. His siblings were delighted.
"That little pyramid you gave to Qin last time—he loved it! He and Professor Swinton spent ages studying it at school. I heard Professor Snape even helped out quite a bit," said Fred—or was it George? Even family members had trouble telling the twins apart.
"Professor Swinton?" Bill echoed, brow furrowing in confusion.
"Professor Swinton was last year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," explained Percy Weasley, ever the scholar. "He was young, brilliant, and I used to ask him all sorts of questions—but he only taught for a year before leaving."
Percy was the third Weasley child. With Bill the academic and Charlie the Quidditch captain as older brothers, Percy had always felt the pressure to excel. This year, at last, he'd become Gryffindor prefect—a small but hard-won triumph.
"Oh, I see… I never expected Professor Snape to take an interest, though," Bill mused, recalling the Potions Master's perpetually frosty expression with a trace of nostalgia.
Even after more than a year away, Bill missed his days at Hogwarts. Even the famously icy Professor Snape seemed oddly endearing in memory.
"Heh, that's because you don't know what Qin Yu is like," one of the twins piped up. "The professors all pay him special attention—especially Professor Swinton and Professor Snape. They've always got on well with him. By the way, Bill, I'm Fred. I know you can't tell us apart."
"And I'm George," the other twin chimed in. "We even heard some rumors—apparently something happened between the three of them just before the holidays. Ever since, Professor Snape barely talks to Qin or Professor Swinton."
"Yeah, and when we asked Qin about it, he flat-out refused to tell us. He even threatened to tie us to the Whomping Willow if we kept pestering him," Fred added with a shrug.
"So… you're pretty close with Qin, then?" Bill asked, intrigued.
"More than close! They're basically his loyal supporters," Percy interjected. "The three of them are always together, and they're forever off at Hagrid's hut tinkering with something. Oh, and Charlie—he recruited Qin for the Quidditch team, and Qin's been a game-changer in every match. Charlie absolutely adores him."
"Wow, I had no idea there were so many stories!" Bill's eyes sparkled with interest.
Of everyone at the table, Bill had met Qin Yu earliest—though only briefly, twice. The boy had left a lasting impression: bright, polite, and unmistakably clever.
He couldn't help but think of Adam—another intelligent child, though much more reserved. Unlike the sunny, outgoing Qin, Adam radiated a quiet, inward calm.
"Oh, Adam, before term starts, we'll need to go to Diagon Alley. Gringotts gave me some money to help you buy your school supplies," Bill said, turning to their guest.
At this, Ron's head snapped up, eyes full of envy.
After all, nearly everything he owned for school was a hand-me-down: Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, George and Fred's battered textbooks—even his cauldron was one Percy had outgrown. And his pet? A rat Percy had abandoned, which Ron had been left to feed since last year.
Why can't I ever have anything new? Ron thought miserably.
George and Fred exchanged a glance, barely suppressing their laughter. Then, as if nothing was amiss, they told Bill they'd like to tag along to Diagon Alley—not that they planned to buy anything, but it would be nice to get out.
"Ron should come too. Maybe we'll see some new broomsticks, wands, or fancy robes," said George (or was it Fred?) with a wink.
"I'll pass. You lot go ahead—I'll just wait for you at the Leaky Cauldron," Ron grumbled, turning up his nose.
…
Over the next few days, Adam settled in at the Burrow and was treated with the utmost care. Molly Weasley fussed over him as if he were her own son—perhaps even more so.
Not that Ron minded. If anything, he was used to his mum's scolding—she never had a kind word for him anyway, guest or no guest.
He was, in fact, quite used to this brand of motherly love.
Still, there were times when Adam struck Ron as a little odd. Once, he overheard the boy talking to his rat, Scabbers.
"…Why do you stay in this house like this? Are you hiding from something?" Adam had asked.
Ron figured Adam was just put off by Scabbers' sorry state—the rat was old, balding, missing a toe, and spent most of his time dozing.
But after that day, Scabbers started avoiding Adam like the plague. No matter how much Ron tried to comfort him, it didn't help.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
Explore More Amazing Fanfiction on My Patreon!
Unlock 30+ Advance Chapters and Enjoy Exclusive Stories Early!
��patreon.com/GoldenLong