"Oh... ahem, not bad, your Human Transfiguration technique is quite good."
William blinked, roughly guessing what the girl wanted to say. She had approached him before the holidays for advice on Human Transfiguration, a difficult subject not even covered in N.E.W.T. exams—
He originally thought she wanted to learn Animagus, but now it seems it was to shorten her front teeth?
"...Alright."
Hermione couldn't help but pout, and it seemed... William inexplicably again reached out to conjure an oil can, wanting to hang it up.
...
Tonight's dinner was exceptionally lavish. A heavy iron pot sat in the center of the table, with thick steam almost filling the entire living room ceiling. Countless ingredients were neatly arranged in the air above the table, like the floating candles in the Hogwarts Great Hall. In the pot, the spicy and aromatic hot pot base tempted everyone to slurp their chopsticks, as this exotic dish from the East delivered a heavy blow to this group of inexperienced Britons—
Watching Charlie and Bill nearly come to blows over a piece of brisket, William paused for a moment... and then quietly fished up half a plate that others hadn't noticed.
What? You ask why they didn't notice?
Of course, this has nothing to do with the Confundus Charm! (Righteously)
"It runs on electricity too, doesn't it?" Mr. Weasley stared at the electric stove under the iron pot, "Ah, yes, I see the wire. I'm collecting plugs and wires," he said to William, "but Molly says I'm mad—"
"You are mad, trying to use magic to meddle with Muggle things—" Mrs. Weasley stuffed a piece of broccoli into his mouth, exasperated. "And you're the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office!" She glanced at the Weasley Twins, who were smiling sheepishly as they were being stared at.
Before dinner, they had sneaked around the house for some adventure, but who knows what they touched in the basement; when they returned, they were covered in dust and got a good telling-off from Mrs. Weasley—
But their eyes were still gleaming, and William could see them sneaking glances at him…
"I must say, the things Mr. Weasley studies are quite useful, like that flying magic car…"
William bit his chopsticks, and upon hearing his words, Mr. Weasley, who had been keeping his head down under Mrs. Weasley's scolding, seemed to have found his backbone. But William hadn't finished speaking, "Except its control needs improvement, as it almost crashed me into the Black Lake—"
"..."
Mr. Weasley's head sank even lower.
The topic didn't last long before shifting to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup and recent news—
"I'm not going because I don't understand those things at all, and the thought of sitting in the stands for five whole days..."
Mrs. Weasley exaggeratedly hugged her arms, saying she'd rather help out with buying textbooks and supplies for the kids for the next term in Diagon Alley to avoid a last-minute rush after the World Cup. Although Harry had already done so with Sirius a few days earlier.
"I even ran into Malfoy and his father... Weird, I seem to run into them every time I go to Diagon Alley."
Harry wrinkled his nose, a bit troubled—he suspected he was carrying something unlucky since he always seemed to encounter those unpleasant people. Of course, not the ominous kind from last year, as he now knew that the big black dog watching him everywhere was actually Sirius.
"And Ludo Bagman, that damned Death Eater!"
Sirius gritted his teeth while munching on lettuce. He wanted to grab some meat, but every time he reached out with his chopsticks, William inexplicably interrupted him—he glared at William, thinking crossly: you stingy little man, it's not like I KO'd you ten times in a row, and even when I held back, you couldn't seize the chance!
"He's actually not a Death Eater, I quite like Ludo," Mr. Weasley said warmly. "We owe him for getting us such good tickets to the World Cup. I helped him once—his brother Odo got into a bit of trouble with a lawnmower spewing Special Abilities—it was me who sorted it all out."
"And then you brought that flying lawnmower home—"
"Ahem, ignore those details."
"But he's still a scumbag passing information to Death Eaters! He gave it to Rookwood…"
"Rookwood? Does that family still have living members?"
William lifted his head, remembering the name—how could he not? A hundred years ago, the leader of the Ashwinder Party was Victor Rookwood. He thought this family was extinct, as they weren't on any recent visiting lists.
"Of course, but now, Augustus Rookwood is in Azkaban, serving a life sentence... practically dead." Mr. Weasley shrugged lightly. "But lately, Bagman is also having some trouble; an employee from the Department of Magical Games and Sports—Bertha Jorkins—is dead."
"Dead?"
"Yes, she died at that Malfoy bastard's manor; everyone thought she was traveling in Albania—" Mr. Weasley kept talking while adding food, "Malfoy couldn't explain why she ended up at the manor. If the Minister hadn't been present, he would have surely been sent to Azkaban to cool off for a few days—"
The guy possessed by Voldemort.
William mentally marked a hefty woman; after catching Voldemort, he had realized there was no other soul in that body.
Meanwhile, Fred, George, and Charlie were excitedly discussing the upcoming World Cup match.
"Ireland Team will definitely win!"
Charlie mumbled with his mouth full of lamb, "You know, they beat the Peru Team in the semifinals."
"But the Bulgaria Team has Viktor Krum," Fred couldn't help but say.
"Krum is indeed good, but he's just one person. The Ireland Team has seven great players," Charlie said impatiently. "Still, I wish the England Team could qualify. Hosting the tournament at home but can't even participate is truly embarrassing—"
Sounds... awfully familiar.
William blinked.
After eating and drinking to their fill, the hotpot was taken away, and next up were small cups of ice cream in various flavors. They all looked the same, but just like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, you wouldn't know if it was strawberry, mango, or spicy crayfish flavored until it hit your taste buds.
Tasting the ice cream in his hand which tasted like hotpot, William subconsciously frowned—not that Lupin concocted dark cuisine even with this?
Could only say, the way of life surely shapes the people of a place?
...
...
After dinner, Harry and Ron squeezed into a bedroom where they spent half the night playing Contra on the red and white console William lent them. He felt like he'd just closed his eyes and hadn't slept long when Mrs. Weasley shook him awake.
"Time to go, Harry, dear."
Mrs. Weasley said softly as she went over to wake Ron on the other bed.
Harry reached for his glasses, put them on, sat up, and instinctively looked out the window—it was still pitch black outside.
Well, he probably really hadn't slept much at all.
When Ron was woken by his mother, he was still mumbling something indistinctly, and Harry could hear that it seemed to be the Contra 30 lives cheat code.
Both dressed in silence, too sleepy to speak, and once ready, they opened the door and met the Weasley Twins in the hallway, both of whom were yawning and stretching. The four exchanged glances and silently walked down the stairs.
They were staying at Number 12 Privet Drive. Originally, there were only four rooms, but now there were eight, plenty for them and quite spacious, which is why they didn't go to The Burrow as it was already packed to the limit with the Weasleys like sardines—
Once downstairs in the living room, quite a few people were already up and ready—
Mrs. Weasley was watching Lupin make porridge, and William had successfully made century eggs using unfertilized Diricawl eggs, so today's breakfast was century egg pork congee.
"Wh-Where's Sirius?"
Harry yawned, scanned the living room, and saw Mr. Weasley sitting by the table discussing Muggle fashion with William. Instinctively he asked, "And Bill and Charlie? How come they're not here either?" George yawned, following up with a question.
Yawning seemed contagious, soon the sound of it filled the living room one after another.
"They can Apparate,"
Hermione answered from a chair, her eyes still closed, her hair which was smooth last night was now frizzy again. She sighed with a weary air. Ginny next to her sat with her head down, seemingly asleep, Kabuda in her lap holding a black marker—
"Squeak!"
William reached out and grabbed the Niffler that was scribbling on the girls' faces, taking the porridge bowl Mrs. Weasley handed him.
"Damn, they're still sound asleep!"
Fred said a bit angrily, patting his pocket. Harry noticed the hint of Filibuster fireworks peeking out—Harry guessed Fred probably wanted to set them off in Bill's room?
"So, why are we up so early?" Harry yawned again, muttering confusedly.
"Because you all haven't finished your holiday homework—" William's voice echoed eerily, and it seemed to be filled with magic as all the weary little wizards giggled, they all had slightly dazed expressions as they looked at William.
Alright, he did infuse emotion magic into his voice—
"Wait, I've already finished—" Hermione the Nerd raised her hand to interject, "So can I go back to sleep now?"
"No, he's just joking," Lupin said, sitting down with a gentle tone. "Of course, we're not so cruel as to drag you up at dawn to do homework, and I believe most of you have finished your holiday assignments, right?"
As he spoke, he adjusted his glasses, "After all, once the Quidditch World Cup ends, school will be just around the corner?"
At this, Ron, Ginny, George, and Fred visibly paled even more than before.