Chapter 4 – The Burrow

The flying car dipped sharply as it cleared the rooftops of Privet Drive.

Harry clung to the door handle.

Ron looked far too pleased with himself.

“Brilliant, wasn’t it?” he said over the roar of the engine.

Fred and George whooped from the backseat.

Y/N sat still, one hand steadying Hedwig’s cage. She didn’t grip tightly. She didn’t look nervous.

She just watched the clouds pass beneath them.

Harry glanced at her.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Would panicking improve the flight?”

“Probably not.”

“Then I won’t.”

Ron grinned. “See? She gets it.”

The car soared higher, the rain thinning as they broke through the cloud layer. Moonlight spread across endless rolling countryside.

For a moment, everything felt free.

No locked doors. No iron bars. No Privet Drive.

Just open sky.

Harry leaned back in his seat.

He hadn’t realized how trapped he’d felt until now.

After what felt like hours, the car began descending.

Below them, lights flickered warmly in the distance.

“That’s home,” Ron said proudly.

The Burrow came into view — tall, crooked, patched together in a way that seemed impossible but somehow worked.

The car landed with a bump in the overgrown garden.

Harry stepped out first, staring at the house.

It looked alive.

Warm.

Uneven.

Perfect.

Before he could say anything, the kitchen door burst open.

Mrs. Weasley stormed into the yard.

Her face was furious.

“You stole the car?!”

Ron immediately wilted.

“It was temporary borrowing—”

“You could have been seen!”

Fred and George attempted to sneak past her.

They failed.

Y/N stood slightly behind Harry, hands folded calmly in front of her.

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes landed on her.

Her expression softened — but only slightly.

“And you,” she said sternly. “Did you encourage this?”

“No, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N replied evenly. “But I didn’t stop it either.”

That was honest.

Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply.

“Well. At least you’re all safe.”

She ushered them inside before the neighbors could notice anything unusual.

The kitchen smelled like stew and fresh bread.

Harry felt something warm settle in his chest.

Mr. Weasley hurried in moments later, looking both anxious and curious.

“Everything alright? No Muggles noticed?”

“Only about twelve,” Fred said cheerfully.

Mrs. Weasley shot him a look.

Dinner was loud.

Comfortable.

Chaotic.

Ron kept sneaking glances at Y/N whenever she spoke. He quickly looked away each time she noticed.

Fred and George whispered about future experiments but stopped when she glanced in their direction.

Even Percy seemed unusually stiff around her.

Harry noticed.

He leaned toward her quietly.

“Do you intimidate people on purpose?”

She sipped her pumpkin juice.

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She gave him a faint smile.

After dinner, they climbed the narrow stairs to Ron’s room.

Harry collapsed onto the bed gratefully.

“This is already better than summer.”

Y/N stood by the small window overlooking the garden.

The night was quiet.

Too quiet.

A faint breeze moved through the trees.

She didn’t feel danger.

But she felt movement.

Like pieces shifting into place.

Harry watched her from the bed.

“You ever just get the feeling something’s about to happen?”

She didn’t turn.

“Yes.”

He waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

Finally, she stepped away from the window.

“Get some sleep.”

Ron flopped backward dramatically.

“Sleep? After flying a car across half the country?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Sleep.”

Harry laughed.

But as he lay back and stared at the crooked ceiling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the summer hadn’t ended.

It had only paused.

And somewhere—

Far from the warmth of the Burrow—

Something ancient was stirring again.

Not loudly.

Not violently.

But patiently.

Waiting.

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