Chapter Text
The late afternoon sunlight cast long shadows over the Burrow. Molly was in the kitchen, making dinner.
Arthur had been shooed out of the house, carrying a box of muggle artifacts. He'd been extremely busy at the ministry lately, working late nights and early mornings. After arriving home, he didn't have the energy to take any of his new “treasures” out to his workshop. Things began to accumulate in odd corners, a hedge trimmer here, a blender there. The final straw for Molly had been finding a set of spark plugs in the spice cupboard.
“Arthur! Honestly! What were you even doing when you put these in here?”
“Oh Mollywobbles, I'm dreadfully sorry! That must've been early this morning while I was making oatmeal.”
“It's alright, love- Please round it all up before dinner.”
“Right away, dear!”
Arthur strode across the lawn to his workshop, carrying an over-encumbered box. He saw an ugly gnome poke its head out from a shrub and dart out of sight again.
“You have until Saturday, my friend,” he warned. He hated watching those pests take over their garden. They ate the tomatoes first, and those were his favorite.
The door to the shed creaked open. Light trickled in through dusty windows. Next to the door was a stack of muggle newspapers. The paper on top read:
UFO SIGHTING NEAR KINGS CROSS
Details pg. 4
Arthur set the box on top of the stack of papers and walked over to his work bench. He leaned over it and opened the window to let in the fresh, evening air.
“Seems like a nice night for some tinkering.”
He looked back at the box and said, “Which of you would be a good gift for one of the boys, eh?”
He walked over and looked between a hair dryer and a radio. He held up the plugs from each, examining them closely.
Arthur began bobbing the plug from the hair dryer around excitedly. He spoke out of the side of his mouth in a high voice. “Oo! Me, Arthur! Pick me!”
He switched to the other side of his mouth, spoke in a low voice, and waved the radio's plug around. “No, me! C’mon, Arthur, hair dries itself! I play music!”
“Alright, radio it is!” He carried the radio over to the bench and dug around his muggle tool box. He searched and searched for the small screwdriver he thought he would need, but couldn't find it.
Arthur walked out of the shed and up to the kitchen window. He saw Molly, nose-deep in a recipe book, and gently tapped on the glass with his knuckle. Molly jumped, sending her reading glasses askew. She straightened them and opened the window.
“Arthur! You better not be trampling any flowers! You gave me such a fright! What is it, dear?”
“I'm dreadfully sorry. I can't seem to remember, what was the name of the gentleman who lived at the end of the lane, had that yappy dog, died three summers ago?”
“Phillips, dear. What are you on about?”
Arthur began walking back towards the shed. “Oh it's nothing. Thank you, Molly.”
She spoke loudly, “Alright, don't be long, dinner should be ready in ten.”
Once back in the shed, Arthur drew his wand.
“Accio Phillips-head screwdriver!”
A gentle clanking noise grew inside the shed. Arthur had to duck as 5 screwdrivers came flying out from different cabinets. All five stuck themselves into the door frame in quick succession.
“Whew! That was closer than last time.”
He wrenched a screwdriver out of the wooden frame, and settled at his work bench. In no time at all, Arthur had opened the radio's plastic shell, exposing wires and what he called “the mother bird.”
He disconnected the wires. After removing the plug, he set it aside for his collection. He began disconnecting the antenna.
WHOOSH!
CLATTER!
DING!
“Ah! Errol! Lovely to see you. I suppose it's about time for supper anyway.” Arthur stretched, then scooped the frazzled bird out of a pile of toasters. He shut the window and left for the house.
“Molly, I hope you made enough food for a wayfaring traveler.”
“Well, I believe- Oh, I see, hello Errol.”
Something between a hoot and a whimper emanated from the pile of feathers in Arthur's arms. Molly picked up Errol and nestled him into a grey, knitted pillow that bore the letter “E.” She detached the letters from the owl’s outstretched foot and opened a nearby window. Molly then joined her husband at the dinner table, where he pulled her chair out and helped her tuck in.
“He is getting up in years, Arthur. Perhaps we should send a note to Hagrid with our next batch of letters. I'm worried that one day poor Errol will just fall out of the sky, still carrying a notice of expulsion regarding the twins. They'll get sent home, arrive in Kings Cross with no one to pick them up, and then who knows what kind of mayhem they'll create. Can you imagine them lose in London? We'd never find them!”
Arthur chuckled. “You worry too much. I believe we'd find them very easily. They'd be laughing away underneath a cluster of fireworks.”
Molly scoffed and swatted Arthur's leg under the table.
“But I will write a letter to Hagrid if it makes you feel more at ease.”
“Thank you, dear.”
The pair chatted over their dinner of roast beef, asparagus, carrots, and rolls. Arthur bemoaned the inquiry he was under at work. Molly filled him in on the details of the Burrow.
“I think a fox is trying to get at the chickens again.”
“Let's walk down there after dinner and I'll help you with whatever Lockhart says is best for foxes.”
“Oh that'd be lovely. I'm sure I could handle it by myself, but I would enjoy the company.”
After they were both finished eating, Molly checked on Errol, who seemed to be breathing, at least. Arthur cleared the plates and set them washing themselves. The pair snuggled up on the couch with five letters.
“Let's start with Percy's. I can always count on him to tell me what trouble the others are up to.”
“Alright.” Arthur unfolded a tidy letter and began to read aloud.
“Dear Mum and Dad,
You've opened my letter first to make sure Fred and George haven't been expelled. At the time of my writing this letter, they have not.
Classes are going well. Although, Mum, I can't believe you like Professor Lockhart. He's a bit too flashy for my taste.
I hope you both are well.
Percy"
Arthur looked at Molly pointedly, but she waved him off and picked up the next letter. She cleared her throat dramatically, and read:
“ Dear Mum and Dad,
School's great. Hermione is brewing a weird potion in the girls toilet and Harry's lost all the bones in his arm. Mum, I can't believe you like Professor Lockhart. He's an idiot.
Love,
Ron"
Arthur beamed at Molly. She scowled at him, but giggled when he scooped her feet up and set them in his lap. He opened another letter and read:
“Dear Mum and Dad,
We're not in trouble, so far. Might be setting a record for time spent with a clean nose. Leave it to Ron to obliterate Fred's and my record of detention on the first day. I'm not sure if I'm proud or annoyed. I can't top “in trouble upon arrival” unless we cause so much trouble at the Burrow that Hogwarts catches wind of it. But I think you two would take us to Azkaban yourselves if that was the case.
Gin seems ok. A bit of a rough go making friends in her year, but she and Hermione get along. Neither of them is your “pink and frills" type.
Speaking of pink and frills, Mum, I can't believe you like Professor Lockhart. He's an absolute moron.
Love,
George”
“Mhmm,” murmured Arthur.
Molly wrinkled her nose at him, and went on with the next letter.
“ Dear Mum and Dad,
Be proud! No detentions! George and I are getting EVEN BETTER at sneaking around. I even got Hermione on my side.
Gin seems ok, but she clams up whenever Harry comes round so it's hard to tell, really. I expect she just needs to see him trip over his shoe laces. I might know a guy who can help with that.”
“Frederick Gideon! You leave poor Harry alone!” Molly shouted at the page.
“Percy's a git, Ron's a git, and Mum, I can't believe you like Professor Lockhart. He's a colossal git.
Love,
Fred”
Arthur was shaking with laughter. Molly crossed her arms and sighed.
“Just, go on, read Ginny's.”
Arthur collected himself and unfolded the last letter. A picture of Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell out. Only, no one was happy and Ron was occasionally heaving out of frame.
“ Dear Mum and Dad,
A boy in my class, Colin, likes taking pictures. He took this the day Ron puked slugs. I hope you frame it.
School is going well. I really like my classes. We had a flying lesson with Madame Hooch last week and I was faster than everyone in my class. I don't think I'm faster than Harry or anything like that, though.
I also like DADA. But , Mum, I can't believe you like Professor Lockhart. He's clueless. He's the reason Harry lost all the bones in his arm.
Thanks for the diary! It's really cool. I write in it everyday.
I miss you both. I love you.
Love,
Ginny”
Arthur smiled. “I didn't know you bought Ginny a diary. That's wonderful! I wish I could remember more about our years at Hogwarts.”
“I didn't buy one. I thought she was thanking you. Maybe it was stuck in one of the second-hand books?”
“Very possible. But let's follow up on it, just in case. I've seen some rather nasty curses on books.” Arthur hoped his face didn't give away the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.