The Burrow was loud even on quiet days.
Tonight was not a quiet day.
Rain tapped gently against the crooked kitchen windows while the old kettle whistled merrily on the stove. The scent of fresh bread, onion soup, and woodsmoke filled the warm little kitchen, wrapping itself around the house like a blanket.
Molly Weasley stood at the table with Percy’s latest letter unfolded in her hands.
Arthur sat beside her wearing his reading glasses halfway down his nose, tinkering absently with the gears of a broken Muggle torch.
Ginny hovered nearby so closely she was practically climbing onto the table.
“What does it say now?” she asked impatiently.
Molly blinked once.
Then twice.
“…Arthur.”
Arthur looked up immediately, “Yes, dear?”
Molly slowly lowered the parchment, “There is a dragon.”
Arthur lit up instantly, “A real one?”
Ginny gasped, “No!”
“Yes,” Molly said faintly. “A teacup dragon.”
Arthur nearly dropped the screwdriver in excitement, “Oh, marvelous.”
Molly stared at her husband in disbelief, “Arthur, our son has a dragon.”
“Yes, but a tiny dragon,” Arthur said brightly, as though that somehow improved matters.
He reached eagerly for the letter, “Let me see.”
Molly handed it over with the exhausted dignity of a woman who had long ago accepted that her family attracted chaos the way honey attracted bees.
Arthur adjusted his glasses and began reading aloud.
Dear Mum and Dad,
Before you panic, Ron is completely fine.
The dragon is apparently harmless unless startled, hungry, overexcited, bored, sleepy, playful, or near anything flammable—
Molly made a strangled sound.
Arthur continued quickly before she could interrupt.
—which admittedly is most of the time.
Its name is Scorch.
Ginny squealed happily, “That’s SUCH a good dragon name!”
Molly pressed a hand to her forehead.
Arthur, meanwhile, looked delighted, “Fascinating.”
Molly turned toward him slowly, “Fascinating?”
Arthur nodded enthusiastically, “Do you realize how rare teacup dragons are? They’re usually only found in isolated magical preserves or ancient noble sanctuaries.”
Ginny bounced excitedly in her seat, “Can I meet him when Ron comes home?”
Arthur smiled, “I certainly hope so.”
Molly looked horrified, “I certainly hope not.”
Arthur ignored this.
“Does Percy mention what breed it is?”
He flipped further down the letter.
“Ah—yes.”
Arthur’s eyes widened slightly.
“Oh my.”
“What?” Molly demanded immediately.
Arthur looked up, “It’s a Silverthorne Sanctuary breed.”
That made Molly pause.
Everyone in magical Britain knew about the Silverthorne Sanctuaries now.
Places where abandoned magical children, hybrids, and magical creatures were protected and cared for.
Places that had become famous after the establishment of the Department for the Protection and Welfare of Magical Minors.
Places tied closely to Mira Silverthorne.
Arthur continued reading.
Mira Silverthorne gave Scorch to Ron after the Pettigrew incident.
I believe she recognized that Ronald needed emotional support after learning his pet rat of eleven years was actually Peter Pettigrew in disguise.
The kitchen grew quieter.
Even Ginny stopped bouncing.
Molly’s expression softened immediately, “Oh…”
Arthur lowered the letter slightly.
There was sympathy in his eyes now.
They had all heard the news about Pettigrew.
The betrayal.
The arrest.
The horrifying realization that Ron had unknowingly cared for a grown wizard masquerading as a pet for years.
Molly sat down heavily at the table, “My poor boy.”
Ginny frowned slightly, “Ron must’ve been really sad.”
“He was,” Arthur said gently.
Then he smiled faintly as he looked back at the parchment.
“But it sounds like Miss Silverthorne helped.”
Molly nodded slowly, “She’s done quite a lot of helping lately.”
There had been article after article in the Daily Prophet over the past year.
The Moonstone Rings.
The Lunar Haven.
The Sunstone Rings.
The magical blood banks.
Devices for disabled witches and wizards.
The cures for blood curses and damaged magical cores.
The sanctuaries.
The Ministry department protecting magical children.
And somehow—
through all of it—
the girl remained only eleven years old.
Arthur resumed reading.
Scorch has become extremely attached to Ron.
Unfortunately, he has also become attached to Gryffindor Tower curtains, toast racks, and my prefect badge.
Ginny burst into giggles.
Molly sighed deeply.
Arthur’s shoulders shook with laughter.
Fred and George think he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to the castle.
Professor McGonagall disagrees.
“That sounds correct,” Arthur said cheerfully.
Molly tried very hard not to smile.
She failed.
Then—
the kitchen fireplace suddenly flared emerald, green.
A moment later, Bill Weasley stepped out of the Floo in traveling robes dusted with sand from Egypt.
“Evening,” he greeted.
Then he noticed the expressions around the table.
“…Why does Mum look stressed?”
“Ron has a dragon,” Ginny announced immediately.
Bill froze, “A what?”
Arthur handed him the letter.
Bill read several lines.
Then blinked.
Then laughed, “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Ginny said proudly, as though Ron had personally hatched it.
Bill shook his head slowly, “Charlie’s going to lose his mind.”
As though summoned by destiny itself—
the fireplace exploded green again.
Charlie Weasley stumbled out next, smelling faintly of smoke and dragon soot, “Oi, Mum, did my package from Romania arri—”
He stopped.
Everyone looked at him.
Ginny grinned, “Ron got a dragon before you.”
Silence.
Charlie blinked once, “…I’m sorry, what?”
Bill handed him the letter with the solemnity of delivering tragic war news.
Charlie read it rapidly.
His expression shifted from confusion—
to disbelief—
to profound devastation.
“You’re telling me,” He said slowly, “that my little brother—Ronald—I-can’t-even-keep-a-cactus-alive Weasley—was GIVEN a dragon?”
“A teacup dragon.” Arthur corrected helpfully.
Charlie pointed dramatically at the ceiling, “I WORK WITH DRAGONS!”
Molly folded her arms, “And yet none of them live in my house.”
Charlie ignored this entirely, “He’s eleven!”
Bill was openly laughing now.
Charlie looked personally betrayed by the universe.
“I spent years training in Romania,” he declared. “Years earning dragon trust.”
Ginny grinned wickedly, “Maybe Scorch just has standards.”
Bill nearly choked laughing.
Arthur hid a smile behind the letter.
Even Molly was losing the battle against amusement.
Charlie collapsed dramatically into a chair, “This is the worst day of my life.”
Ginny patted his shoulder with fake sympathy, “It’s okay, Charlie.”
Charlie pointed accusingly, “No, it isn’t.”
Arthur finally folded Percy’s letter carefully and set it back on the table.
Despite the laughter—
despite the chaos—
his expression softened quietly.
Because beneath all the absurdity…
Ron was healing.
And somewhere at Hogwarts—
a tiny dragon with smoke curling from his nose had helped make that possible.
ns216.73.216.86da2
and then Add to home screen.