The golden light of a late summer morning streamed into The Burrow, casting soft rays across the mismatched furniture and lovingly cluttered spaces of the Weasley home. Outside, the faint clucking of hens mingled with the occasional hum of the wind. Inside, Molly Weasley was bustling about the kitchen, her wand directing pots and pans to prepare a hearty breakfast. Arthur sat at the table, scanning the latest issue of The Daily Prophet, chuckling softly at some article about enchanted lawnmowers.

Upstairs, however, the day had not yet begun for everyone.

In Alexandra’s bedroom, the window left ajar allowed a cool breeze to dance through the room, gently ruffling the scattered parchment and a Slytherin scarf draped over a chair. The peaceful quiet was broken by a soft knock on the door, followed by Charles’ familiar voice.

“Oi, little snake,” he called, a teasing lilt in his tone. When no answer came, Charles nudged the door open, his tall frame filling the doorway. His red hair was slightly tousled.

Leaning against the doorframe with a grin, he saw Alexandra still curled up in bed, the faint rise and fall of their breathing indicating they were deeply asleep. “Past nine already." Charles said with mock exasperation, stepping into the room. “Breakfast is ready, and Mum’s already in full Diagon Alley mode. If you’re not up soon, she might come storming in herself.” He chuckled at the thought.

Walking over to the bed, Charles crouched down slightly, his expression softening as he looked at Alexandra. He might have teased about the Slytherin thing, but Charles, like the rest of the family, felt nothing but pride for their youngest sibling’s unique path.

“Alright,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Five more minutes, but that’s it. Mum’s got the twins all wound up, and you know how chaotic it gets when Fred and George are hungry.”

With a gentle ruffle of Alexandra’s hair, Charles stood, heading toward the door.