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Harry Potter had arrived at the Burrow the day before.
It was his first time staying somewhere other than Hogwarts or the Dursley’s, and he found himself enchanted by the magic in the household.
It was full of chaotic energy, but the air was light and free, the Weasley children didn’t appear scared to go downstairs, and they had welcomed Harry with kind, open arms. Mrs. Weasley was one of the kindest women Harry had ever met.
It had taken him off guard when she’d hugged him like he was part of the family already. He had never known that kind of affection, that kind of love.
He had wished for it his entire life, but he had given up hope. He was wary around Mr. Weasley, expecting him to raise his voice or punish one of them, but he just smiled and joked and laughed, and Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Could they all be putting on a show, to make him drop his guard before they swooped in?
But it all seemed so genuine, and he found himself wondering if maybe it wasn’t too good to be true. Ron had offered to share his room with Harry, which in and of itself had surprised him.
He had an entire room to himself, his own room, and though it wasn’t big, it was his. Harry had spent the evening laughing with Ron, and it felt good to be able to relax and enjoy himself with a friend without the fear of Uncle Vernon storming up to yell at him for some simple mistake, or for something he didn’t do at all.
When the sky had darkened and evening slid into night, Ron and Harry had changed into their pajamas and were climbing into their beds when they had heard Mrs. Weasley’s footsteps coming up the stairs. Dread had filled his stomach. This was it, this is when she would yell at them.
He scrambled through his memories, trying to think of something they’d done wrong, some reason for her to be angry. How had he already messed up this badly? He had been nice, and polite, and he never asked for anything, and he had thought they’d let him stay at least another day before growing tired of him.To his utter shock, she knocked on the door before entering, giving them a moment to stop her if they were changing, or something along those lines.
Harry studied Ron’s face for any hint of fear, or wariness, but Ron just appeared a bit embarrassed by his mother.She had smiled that kind, relaxing smile at them both, said goodnight, confirmed they had everything they needed, made sure Harry knew he could wake her at any time if he needed her, and turned off the lights, closing the door with a soft click.
Harry was floored. He had no memories of the Dursely’s ever bothering to say more than ‘get out’ at him.
Ron had whispered his goodnight before falling asleep, his soft snores filling the room, but Harry laid awake, wondering about the odd family dynamics.
Why was everyone so relaxed, so…unafraid? It was a foreign feeling, though one he craved more of. He had drifted off, his dreams plagued by the Weasley’s kicking him out after he made a mistake. The following morning he had awoken early, dressed, and gone downstairs- habit.
He had been making the Dursley’s breakfast for as long as he could remember, and did not dare assume that the new environment meant anything different.
He stumbled upon Mrs. Wealsey already working on breakfast and Mr. Wealsey reading the newspaper at the dining room table, making quiet conversation with his wife.
Harry had awkwardly stood there, unsure if he was allowed to intrude or if he would be annoying.
Mr. Weasley spotted him first, and had waved him over with a bright smile. “Morning, Harry! Sleep alright?” He had asked, his tone genuine, catching Harry off guard.
“Y-yes sir, I did. Thank you,” he had added for good measure, not wanting to upset him. Mr. Weasley had patted him on the shoulder, chuckling. “Please, call me Arthur, Harry.” Harry nodded, repeating his words in his head so as not to forget them.
He looked over at Mrs. Weasley cooking and felt guilty for not getting up early enough to do it for her.
He walked over, unsure, and asked, “Mrs. Weasley? Can-” “Please, dear, call me Molly,” she said with a playful wink, adding seasoning into her sausage and eggs, but keeping her attention on him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
The attention was another unknown feeling. He cleared his throat. “Can I do anything to help?” It was the best he could do. He was unsure how things worked here at the Burrow. Her eyes had soften, a smile on her face.
“You’re too sweet, Harry. Thank you, but I’ll handle this. You can wake up the boys, if you want someone to hang out with- they should be up soon anyway- or you can read in the living room, or hang out in here with Arthur and me. Up to you,” she had chirped.
He was shocked at her words. Absolutely flabbergasted.
“O-okay, thanks again,” he had responded, stumbling over his words. He’d walked back up to Ron’s room, still processing her words. Up to him? Didn’t she have chores for him to do? He didn’t want to be treated differently just because he was a guest.
He wanted to help out, to prove he had use and wasn’t wasting their time and space. When he quietly entered the room, he found Ron awake and still in his pajamas (didn’t he have to get dressed before leaving his room?), pulling on his socks. His face had lit up when he saw Harry, and Harry returned it full force.
“What’s Mum making for breakfast? Smells amazing,” Ron groaned, hurriedly pulling on his other sock in a truly ungraceful manner. “Sausage and eggs,” Harry said, watching with exasperation as Ron’s hurried attempt failed.
“Ron, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone struggle with a sock as much are you are right now.” Harry laughed, truly laughed, at the face Ron gave him.
It seemed to do the trick, for Ron was ready to head downstairs a moment later. Harry furrowed his brows. “You aren’t getting dressed?” Ron had chuckled, running a hand through his bright red hair. “Nah, mate, its Saturday. I’ll change after breakfast.” And with that, Ron headed downstairs.
That was allowed here? Staying in pajamas? Harry’s surprise only grew larger as, when walking back down to the kitchen, he spotted most of the Weasley children in their pajamas- Percy Weasley being the exception.
They had each greeted Harry enthusiastically, and all ate together while discussing what they wanted to do that day, or silly dreams they’d had.
Harry watched them all interact without annoying each other, and felt doubt creeping in. Was this what a normal family looked like? Hours later, after many board games, wizard chess, attempted karaoke and chasing gnomes in the garden, Harry and the Weasley children came back into the house.
Harry spotted Percy asleep on the couch, a book he had clearly been reading on his chest.The simple situation baffled Harry. The thought that Percy felt comfortable enough in his home to be so vulnerable in the living room made him think maybe the Weasley’s weren’t making things up at all.
Maybe they were truly this kind, this welcoming, this genuine. Maybe Harry could relax here. After they’d all clambered into the kitchen for drinks, Harry found George Weasley and asked a question he’d been wondering. “George?”
George had grinned down at him, pleasantly surprised. “What’s up, Harry?”
“I was wondering, who does all the chores around here?” George had chuckled, replying, “We all do.” Was he joking? They all….split the chores? It didn’t fall on one designated person? This revelation ran circles around his mind the rest of the day.
The thought of not having the burden of every chore was unimaginable. He could not wrap his mind around it, that they had that freedom. He felt growing frustration as he looked back in his life to the way the Dursley’s treated him.
It was nothing like the Weasley’s, and Harry was seeing how awful the Dursley’s truly were.
At dinner- for they got to eat three times a day, even when they’d misbehaved- Mr. Weasley was looking back through the Daily Prophet, a wizard newspaper.
Ginny Weasley, a young, pretty girl, was pestering him with question after question, causing anxiety in Harry. He tried to catch her eye, to get her to stop before he got mad, but instead of an angry outburst, Mr. Weasley had simply looked up and patiently answered every question. Weeks passed, full of laughter, teasing, delicious food and finally, comfort.
Harry had grown comfortable around everyone, no longer dreading the worst, and had started coming out of his shell around them, joking right along with everyone.
That evening, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s eldest son, Bill Weasley, popped in for a visit. He was tall, thin, wore an earring with a dangling fang, and had the trademark Weasley trait of bright red hair. He had stayed for dinner, sharing stories of his work at Gringotts Wizarding Bank as a Curse-Breaker in Egypt.
Harry was floored when Bill adressed him, asking about his stay and how he was doing. It was a simple, basic thing, but to Harry it was everything. The fact that he had been acknowledged was a shock- like he was someone worth talking to.
He’d gotten along well with Bill, hesitantly asking questions that were met with eager answers. That night, laying in Ron’s room, he found himself excited to come back here the next year.
The Burrow had quickly become something of a home, full of people he liked and who, somehow, liked him back. He had made friends, had been welcomed in, and Harry could not be more thankful.
The lack of stress in these few weeks were unprecedented, allowing Harry to drift off into a sleep without worries.