At first, Warren had genuinely considered becoming a truly versatile potions prodigy who could brew anything.
But the field was already dominated by too many giants and he had no desire to compete with them directly.
Warren's early attempts at brewing standard remedies like Invigoration Draughts and Blood-Replenishing Potions simply could not measure up to the work of established masters. Apothecaries would not even stock them on their shelves, let alone sell them to customers.
Then one day, he watched his mother washing Ginny's hair in the kitchen sink and loudly lamenting the sheer volume of it. She grumbled that she would have to buy more Sleekeazy's Potion at this rate and that stuff was certainly not cheap.
Inspiration struck Warren like a bolt of lightning. In that single moment, the path forward became crystal clear.
What market was easier to crack than women and children? None. Absolutely none.
It turned out that beneath the magic, witches were still women at heart. Their desire for beauty and fear of aging made them far more willing to part with their gold than wizards.
Even when eight-year-old Warren was a complete unknown in the potions community, plenty of witches were willing to try his Warren's Beauty products on nothing more than curiosity and hope. He had since developed them into a full product line with formulas tailored to various needs.
This brought him fame throughout the wizarding world and a steady income of several hundred Galleons every month.
"Warren, sweetheart, are you finished up there?"
A knock on the attic door interrupted Warren's thoughts.
He dismissed the System panel and continued packing the beauty potions into an empty box, bottle by bottle, as he called down. "I'm done, Mum. Is that Primpurnell's owl down there?"
The attic door creaked open, and Molly walked in with a warm smile on her round face. She crossed the room and affectionately ruffled Warren's hair. "The owl is waiting downstairs by the fireplace. Your father is feeding it treats as usual, so take your time."
She pulled a money pouch from her apron pocket and placed it on the workbench next to the box of potions. "The owl brought this with the order, Warren. You keep that safe."
"Mum, keep it for the house. Really, I don't mind."
"No." Molly's expression turned firm for a moment, but it quickly softened as she pulled Warren into a warm, motherly embrace.
She said, "My sweet, thoughtful boy, how could we possibly keep taking your money like that? Your father and I have always said that the money you, Bill, and Charlie earn is your own to do with as you please. Besides, you have already given us so much. We will not take another knut."
This conversation had played out more than once since Warren started making real money from his potions. It always ended exactly the same way. At Molly's firm insistence, Warren would put the money away in his own savings.
He had to admit that no matter how he looked at it, whether through the books he read in his past life or his current reality, the Weasleys might be poor by wizarding standards, but Arthur and Molly had never once failed as parents. They did everything they could for their children.
With Molly's help, Warren finished packing the box securely and cast a quick charm to keep the bottles from breaking during transport. He picked it up and followed her downstairs to the kitchen.
Downstairs, Arthur had just finished feeding the owl and sat at the table, buried as usual in the Daily Prophet.
"Morning, Dad."
"Morning, Warren. Take a look at this. The bird was getting awfully impatient waiting for you."
"If you knew the owl was getting impatient, Arthur Weasley, why didn't you go upstairs and help Warren pack? What do you actually do every single morning other than sit there reading that paper? My poor, sweet Warren works himself to the bone brewing potions for days on end, yet you never lift a finger to help him. You certainly don't do any housework either, do you?"
Hearing Molly's voice climb to that familiar, dangerous pitch, Arthur promptly ducked behind his newspaper until only the top of his balding head remained visible.
And so another day began at the Burrow, accompanied by Molly's spirited shouting and the owl's labored wingbeats as it hauled a heavy box of potions out the window.
It was the familiar daily scene Warren had grown up with.
He went to wash up, his expression blank. As he passed the enchanted mirror in the hallway, it immediately began to vibrate with anticipation.
"Shut up. No talking today." Warren pulled out his worn wand and pointed it threateningly at the mirror.
The mirror froze instantly, its surface still. Only after Warren had walked away did it mutter, barely audible, "Messy hair, that's all I was going to say. Just messy hair."
By the time Warren had finished washing his face and hands, Molly had woken the rest of the children. A freckled boy was about to slip into the bathroom when he saw Warren coming out and froze awkwardly.
Warren offered him a warm smile. "Morning, Ron."
Ron puffed out his cheeks and mumbled. "Morning, Warren."
"Is that any way to talk to your own brother? Say good morning properly."
Ron's face flushed instantly. He grumbled under his breath, "You were only born five minutes before me. That's nothing. Five minutes doesn't make you special."
Warren's smile widened at that. He still vividly remembered the moment they were born, despite having been a newborn himself. Ron was supposed to be born first, making him the older twin, but Warren had felt cramped and uncomfortable, so he had given his brother a sharp kick on the way out to claim the spot for himself.
As the two boys stood in the hallway, locked in a silent standoff, a pair of identical twins bounced up behind Ron with their usual boundless energy. They slung an arm over each of his shoulders, trapping him between them like Aurors escorting a prisoner to Azkaban.
"Five minutes older is still older, isn't that right, George?"
"That's right, Fred. Just like how I'm ten seconds older than you, meaning you still have to call me your elder brother when we're being formal."
"George, if you're saying that, you're clearly not awake yet. I'm the one who's ten seconds older, remember?"
No, it's definitely me. Mum said so.
Ron's head spun with their rapid-fire bickering, leaving him increasingly flustered.
Just then, Ginny came running down the stairs and threw herself happily into Warren's waiting arms. Ron muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took the chance to duck into the bathroom to escape the twins.
"Morning, Warren."
"Morning, Ginny." Warren kissed his little sister on the forehead and carried her toward the kitchen.
Of everyone in the family, he was closest to Ginny by far. Partly, this was because by the time she was born, he had grown used to his new life and genuinely accepted this family as his own. It was also partly because they looked the most alike of all the Weasley children, the two who were actually handsome.
When they were younger, Arthur and Molly often joked that Warren and Ginny looked more like twins than Warren and Ron did. Despite being the actual twins, Warren and Ron did not look alike at all.
The usual noisy morning routine continued even after everyone had sat down for breakfast.
However, today was different from the norm in several ways. Arthur did not rush off to the Ministry as he usually did.
Percy, who typically vanished into his room with a book the moment he finished eating, sat by the living room window gazing out at the sky instead.
Fred and George, always eager to run outside and get up to mischief, stayed seated at the kitchen table. They kept winking at Warren across the table and occasionally taking jabs at Ron.
Ron, who usually grew so frustrated by their teasing that he would storm off to sulk in his room, sat through it all today without moving. He refused to leave the table no matter what they said.
The whole family was waiting for something significant. They were expecting the Hogwarts letters.
As the sun finally crested the hill, casting warm light through every window of the Burrow, the sound of distant owl wings reached their ears.
Molly, having feigned calm all morning despite her distraction, shot up to throw the kitchen window wide.
Arthur set down his newspaper and retrieved the owl treats left over from the earlier visitor.
Moments later, a school owl flew in through the open window and landed gracefully on the kitchen table.
Tied to its leg with a bit of string were two letters. The envelopes were made of thick, cream-colored parchment. The wax seal was unmistakable. It bore a shield-shaped crest with a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding the letter H.
Molly untied the letters with trembling fingers, her excitement barely contained. She glanced at the back of one envelope and let out a breath of relief. "Thank Merlin, it's finally here. The Hogwarts acceptance letters. I've been worried sick since yesterday. What if they didn't come for some reason?"
Arthur leaned forward eagerly, but he wasn't fast enough to grab the letters first. He tried to appear unconcerned. "You always worry about everything, Molly. How could Warren possibly not get into Hogwarts with his talent?"
I was actually quite worried about Ron. You have no idea how terrified I was that he would not get a letter at all. That boy has been as stolid as a stone since he was little. Even his accidental magic was barely noticeable compared to the others. I thought perhaps...
Mum.
Ron, his face now the same shade as his hair, snatched the letter from her hand. He tossed Warren's letter across the table to him and clutched his own tightly to his chest as he ran upstairs to his room.
Warren chuckled at the display. He did not mind in the slightest. He picked up his letter and turned it over to read the address.
[Mr. W. Weasley, The Kitchen, The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole]
At that exact moment, the System panel materialized before his eyes.
[Main Quest Activated]
[Main Quest 1: Enter Hogwarts (Incomplete)]
[Reward: 1 Affinity Point, 50 Mana Level]
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