The Home was buzzing with that familiar, chaotic warmth that only the family could create. From the kitchen to the garden, every corner seemed to hum with life.

Fred and George lounged on the sagging sofa, each holding a vial of something that fizzed and smoked like a potion gone wrong—or perfectly right, depending on who you asked. “If this works,” George said with a mischievous grin, “Mum’s about to have dancing dishes.” A small pop followed, and suddenly the teacups on the coffee table began waltzing in neat little circles. Fred whooped in triumph while George doubled over laughing.

In the kitchen, Molly and Arthur were lost in their own world. The scratchy crackle of a Muggle record player filled the air with music. Arthur’s hand was firm on Molly’s waist, the two spinning clumsily but joyfully around the checkered floor, the scent of freshly baked scones wafting between them. “You’ve got the rhythm all wrong, Arthur!” Molly laughed, swatting him playfully as he nearly stepped on her toes. “I’m improving!” he insisted, though his twirling said otherwise.

Outside, Ginny and Ron were in the middle of an intense one-on-one Quidditch match. The sound of broomsticks cutting through the air mixed with Ginny’s triumphant yell as she snagged the Quaffle out from under Ron’s nose. “Oi! No fair, you distracted me!” Ron protested, shielding his eyes from the sun. “You’re just jealous I’m better!” Ginny shot back, laughing as she zipped around the apple tree.

Inside again, Percy and Charlie had claimed the armchairs by the fireplace—each with a book in hand. Percy, ever proper, had a stack of parchment beside him, jotting down notes about cauldron regulations, while Charlie read something about dragons, his expression distant but content. “You really should try reading for pleasure, Perce,” Charlie murmured without looking up. Percy sniffed. “Knowledge is pleasure.”