43 - Christmas Day

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The morning sun stretched its golden fingers across the sky, gently spilling its light through the window. The soft glow illuminated every corner of the bustling home, casting a warmth that felt almost tangible. The air carried the quiet hum of a household slowly coming to life, the serenity of dawn just beginning to fade.

Wes stirred under the gentle summons of the sunlight. He stretched, the warmth of the bed still lingering on his skin, and let out a contented sigh. With a slow, measured pace, he made his way down from the upstairs room to the first floor, where the scent of breakfast wrapped around him like an embrace.

In the kitchen, Molly was already immersed in her morning routine. Her movements were fluid and practiced, an effortless dance between the stove and the table. The sizzle of eggs filled the air, their fragrance mingling with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread. The golden-brown crust crisped to perfection inside the toaster, and the whole kitchen seemed to breathe with the warmth of a home well cared for.

At the dining table, Arthur sat in his worn but comfortable pajamas, a steaming cup of coffee cradled between his hands. His face was partially hidden behind the rustling pages of The Daily Prophet, his brows slightly furrowed as he absorbed the morning's news.

"Good morning," Wes greeted, his voice bright, breaking the hush of the morning.

Arthur lowered the newspaper, his lips curving into a smile, his eyes warm with familiarity. "Morning, Wes," he replied, setting the paper aside. "Did you sleep well?"

Wes returned the smile, a lingering trace of drowsiness still in his expression. "Better than ever," he admitted, stretching once more. "Your home has a way of making people feel at ease."

Molly, overhearing their conversation, appeared from the kitchen, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. She placed it in front of Wes with a fond smile. "Give me a moment, breakfast will be ready soon."

With that, she disappeared back into the kitchen, her presence a quiet yet undeniable force of warmth.

As a mother of seven, Molly Weasley had long since perfected the art of managing chaos. Holidays were a battlefield in their own right—ensuring that each of her children was well-fed, their needs met, while also arranging festivities that would make their home glow with the spirit of celebration. It was an exhausting task, yet she handled it with unwavering devotion.

Thankfully, Ginny had taken it upon herself to help. She moved through the house with practiced ease, straightening chairs, setting the table, and preparing plates without needing to be asked. Her quiet diligence made Molly's burden just a little lighter.

When breakfast was finally ready, Molly turned toward the staircase and—abandoning all pretense of gentleness—called out in a voice that shook the house.

"Ron! When do you plan to get up?!"

"And you two—Fred, George! Get moving!"

Her voice boomed up the stairs, shattering the last remnants of morning peace.

"Yes, Mum!" came the muffled reply from the twins' room, their voices heavy with sleep but carrying a familiar mischief.

With that, the Weasley household truly came alive. The morning rush, the clatter of dishes, the sleepy grumbles of reluctant children—all the sounds that painted a picture of warmth and familiarity.

A Christmas in Full Swing

After breakfast, Arthur took Ron and the twins out to the shed to begin the day's festive activities.

Percy, as expected, retreated to his room, muttering about an important project. No one asked what it was—Percy had always preferred his own company when it came to studies, and his siblings had long learned to let him be.

Out in the shed, Arthur held up a pair of shears, standing in front of a thick evergreen tree. "Alright, boys," he announced. "We've got to get this tree trimmed and ready before lunch."

Ron, ever the diligent helper, picked up a pair of small scissors and carefully followed his father's instructions, trimming branches with a concentration that was almost comical in its intensity.

The twins, on the other hand, stood nearby, exchanging silent, mischievous glances. Their enthusiasm for decorating was minimal, but their enthusiasm for chaos? Boundless.

"What can I do?" Wes asked, stepping forward, eager to help.

Arthur gestured toward the shed, filled with an assortment of materials and tools. His eyes gleamed with pride as he said, "This place might look simple, but don't underestimate it. I built most of the things in this house with my own hands."

"Yeah, like Ron's bed," Fred quipped.

"And the dining table," George added, smirking.

Arthur shot them a look, but his smile betrayed his amusement.

The truth was, money had never come easily to the Weasleys. With so many children to provide for, they had learned to make do with what they had. Arthur had developed a knack for fixing, repurposing, and—when the situation allowed—creating. It was a skill born out of necessity but carried with it a deep sense of pride.

"No wonder you managed to modify that flying car," Wes mused, impressed.

Arthur's eyes lit up at the mention of his beloved project. "Oh, you wouldn't believe the work that went into that—" He launched into an enthusiastic explanation, gesturing wildly as he described the intricate details of his modifications.

The twins, sensing an opportunity, jumped in, adding their own embellishments to the tale. Before long, the Christmas tree was all but forgotten as the conversation turned entirely to enchanted vehicles, airborne adventures, and near-catastrophic test flights.

Ron, left entirely out of the conversation, sulked in silence, feeling more like an afterthought than a participant.

It wasn't until Molly called them in for lunch that Arthur snapped out of his storytelling haze.

A Night of Magic

After lunch, the house transformed.

With the flick of a wand, decorations soared into the air, twinkling lights wrapped themselves around railings, and garlands draped across the walls. The air shimmered with enchantment, filling the home with an undeniable festive glow.

Wes found himself outside, wrapping the house with a long string of colored lights. As dusk fell, they flickered to life, turning the Burrow into a glowing beacon against the evening sky.

"If only we had fireworks," Ginny murmured wistfully, watching the lights with wonder.

At her words, a hush fell over the group. Fireworks—the kind of magic that lit up the sky with breathtaking patterns—were an expensive luxury. One they rarely got to witness.

But Wes only smiled, stepping away momentarily before returning with a large, unopened box. He placed it on the ground with a flourish.

"How could I let a Christmas go by without fireworks?" he said, grinning.

Excited gasps rippled through the group as he lit the first fuse. A spark shot into the sky, exploding in a dazzling display—a reindeer galloping through the darkness. The children's cheers rang through the air, their eyes wide with awe.

"These are all yours," Wes said generously, gesturing toward the remaining fireworks in the box.

"Really?" Though eager, the children still turned to their parents for permission.

The Weasley couple exchanged amused glances before nodding with warm smiles. "What are you waiting for?"

"Awesome!" The children cheered, each eagerly picking their favorite firework.

Wes had bought plenty, ensuring there was more than enough for everyone to enjoy.

One by one, the fireworks soared, painting the sky with vivid colors. Stars, dragons, flowers—all danced above them in breathtaking brilliance.

Even Arthur and Molly, caught up in the joy of the moment, joined in, their laughter mixing with the children's, filling the night with warmth.

The Morning After

Early the next morning, the Weasley family gathered in the cozy warmth of the living room, their faces filled with anticipation as they unwrapped the gifts Wes had carefully chosen for them.

Ron's eyes widened with excitement as he pulled out a jar from Honeydukes, packed to the brim with an assortment of magical sweets. He eagerly pried off the lid, plucked a candy from inside, and popped it into his mouth. Almost instantly, his face lit up with delight as the rich flavors melted on his tongue.

Ginny gasped in excitement when she unwrapped her gift—a set of enchanted dolls that moved and interacted with each other, mimicking the world around them. She cradled them in her arms, unable to contain her joy.

Percy, ever the scholar, ran his fingers reverently over the elegant feathered quill he had received. He turned it over in his hands, admiring its fine craftsmanship, already imagining the meticulous notes he would take with it.

Fred and George, upon discovering a set of Wes's personal alchemy notes, exchanged a mischievous grin. To them, it was nothing short of treasure—secrets to uncover, experiments to try, and endless possibilities for their pranks. Without wasting a moment, they flipped through the pages, their eyes gleaming with excitement.

Molly's hands trembled slightly as she unwrapped a set of beautifully crafted kitchenware. She looked up at Wes with gratitude, her heart swelling with warmth. To anyone else, it might have been a simple gift, but to her, it was a symbol of care—someone had thought about her daily efforts and wanted to make her work easier.

Arthur let out a delighted chuckle as he held up a Muggle toolbox, filled with an assortment of wrenches, screwdrivers, and other fascinating tools. He turned each one over, already imagining the repairs and tinkering he could do. "Brilliant! These are marvelous!" he exclaimed, his eyes alight with curiosity and excitement.

Everyone adored their gifts, their gratitude filling the room with warmth.

But Wes, too, had received something special. Molly presented him with a hand-knitted scarf, its soft, warm fabric a testament to the love and care woven into every stitch. As he wrapped it around his neck, he felt a comforting warmth—not just from the wool, but from the kindness of this family that had welcomed him so openly.

After lunch, as the afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the Burrow, Wes knew it was time to leave. Though the Weasleys insisted he stay longer, he shook his head with a gentle smile. "I've already been here too long. You should have this time together as a family."

Molly pulled him into a tight embrace, her motherly warmth lingering even as she let go. Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude. The children waved and called after him, their voices filled with affection.

As Wes stepped away from the house, the festive laughter still echoing behind him, he felt a deep sense of warmth settle in his chest. But he knew he couldn't stay lost in this fleeting joy. The world of magic awaited him—challenges, mysteries, and battles yet to come.

With one last glance at the twinkling lights of the Burrow, he pulled the scarf tighter around his neck and stepped forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead.