Parents' Hearts

On the stairwell platform of the Burrow in Autri Ottery St Catchpole, in the storage room on the Fourth Floor, a soft white ball of light and an orange-yellow column of light swayed continuously, dragging a short, stout figure and a tall, thin figure as they were swayed and stretched.

Arthur held a worn-out Flashlight with its casing removed in one hand and a wand glowing with Lumos in the other, watching helplessly as his wife rummaged through the storeroom. Old cupboards were dragged out and drawers were opened, small boxes containing their children's childhood toys were opened, and various containers that had been searched through all demonstrated his wife's stubbornness.

Ever since he came home from work, Molly has been nagging about the mistakes George and Fred made.

Even though she was already in bed, she couldn't put her mind at ease and insisted on getting him up in the middle of the night to search the entire house for any contraband that might be hidden. Just as Molly was about to search deeper into the storage room, and a power strip he had hidden was about to be found, Arthur quickly grabbed his wife's hand.

"Oh, my little Molly, don't take it so seriously..." Arthur sincerely advised, "I've seen what they made, and it doesn't violate any of the Ministry of Magic's prohibitions... and I have to admit, they've put their knowledge of Potions Master and Charms to good use, haven't they?"

"I don't need them to apply what they've learned; I need them to be able to fill in the blanks on the test papers." Molly's expression was somewhat agitated. "Have you even looked at their OWL test scores? George and Fred combined can't even match Percy's."

"..." Arthur wisely shut his mouth.

"I can already imagine what they'll be like in the future, just like those guys at Borgin Burke's shop—bad grades, weirdos, always messing around with things that are easy to get caught with..."

Molly wiped her eyes as she spoke, her voice tinged with sadness. "They'll regret it then. No one will want to hire them, and they'll have to make a living by reselling things—oh, who's in charge?"

"Um, it's me..." Loren stepped out from the corner of the stairs. "I'm very sorry, sir and madam, I just came out to use the restroom. I didn't mean to hide here and eavesdrop."

"Oh, Loren." Molly quickly hid behind Arthur, wiping away the tears welling up in her eyes in a fluster.

Arthur shone his Flashlight in his direction and raised his voice slightly. "It's alright, Loren, go back to sleep."

"Please wait a moment..." Molly calmed down and exhaled, looked at Loren for a while, and said hesitantly, "I want to ask you about George and Fred's situation at school."

Loren tiptoed downstairs and came to Arthur and Molly.

Molly seemed to be in a complicated mood. Her eyes lacked the sharp and imposing aura of the Weasley family; instead, they were somewhat bewildered. She crouched down and looked at Loren: "Darling, tell me, did they ever sell this kind of junk at school before?"

Loren shook his head. "Although I have shown some interesting inventions before, I have never sold them publicly."

Molly breathed a sigh of relief, then paused and asked, "Are they always causing trouble at school, annoying the professors?"

"No, that's not true." Loren looked at the somewhat aged woman in front of him and asked softly, "Mrs. Weasley, although Percy just graduated from school, Ron and Ginny are still in school. Didn't they tell you about things at school?"

Molly and Arthur thought about it silently. They mentioned some things that happened at school, but most of them were accusations that George and Fred were naughty and mischievous, especially always teasing Ron... Thinking about it carefully, although there were always things that violated school rules, such as being penalized by Filch and being locked up by Professor McGonagall, there were no particularly serious mistakes.

Molly tried to say something several times, but when she met the eyes of the child in front of her, she couldn't bring herself to say anything to refute or belittle her two sons.

"Mrs. Weasley, you kept saying this afternoon that they lack ambition. I'd like to ask what kind of ambition you expect?" Loren suddenly asked softly.

Molly paused for a moment, then instinctively replied, "I hope they study diligently and find stable jobs like Bill and Charlie after graduation—"

"Don't be like Charlie; raising Fire Dragon is no easy task," Arthur interrupted.

"Then earn enough Galleon, buy a decent house, start your own family, have your own children, and live a relaxed and comfortable life. If you could have a House-elf, that would be even better... Is that right?" Loren added to Molly's unfinished expectations.

Arthur tilted his head and frowned, as if imagining that kind of life.

Molly frowned. This description seemed to fit her expectations for the children, yet something felt off. She pondered for a long time but couldn't quite articulate her thoughts, only muttering, "It doesn't necessarily have to be a respectable house, nor does it require House-elf..."

Loren said softly, "They could also find a place they like and build their own house, starting from a pigsty and building it layer by layer. House-elf wouldn't be needed; they could learn how to cook delicious food and knit sweaters from Household Magic books, right?"

Arthur and Molly were stunned, suddenly realizing that the life Loren described was their own life. Memories of living together for many years, accumulating wealth little by little, and building their the Burrow layer by layer surfaced in their minds.

As a member of the ancient Pure-blood, the Weasley gradually declined because they did not want to get involved in businesses tainted with dirty tricks. Arthur Weasley's closeness to Muggle had already been evident in their fathers' generation, making them even more despised by Pure-blood wizard in the Wizarding World.

Molly's family, the Prewett family, gradually declined, and her brother was killed when he was besieged by five Death Eater during the First Wizarding War.

Members of two fallen families came together, and their wealthy relatives looked down on the marriage, and even more so on their dilapidated the Burrow...

The Burrow started as a single-story pigsty. Arthur built a house next to it, and as they had more and more children, the house grew taller and taller. Before they knew it, decades had passed.

"Do you find it hard? Do you regret your decision back then?"

"Us..."

Loren then turned around and slowly walked upstairs, his steps very light, but the wooden floor was so old that it still made a slight creaking sound, "Although I don't know if George and Fred's Joke Shop will be commercially successful, I think that even if they are still building their shop brick by brick and layer by layer many years later, they should be happy."

The creaking sounds from upstairs gradually faded away and disappeared.

The Flashlight in Arthur's hand had gone out at some point, leaving only the faint glow of the Lumos at the tip of his staff. Molly saw a glimmer of light reflected in his eyes. The couple stood there at the door of the storeroom until the moon hung over the treetops in front of the window.

Molly suddenly started walking downstairs, which was clearly not the way back to her bedroom.

"Molly?" Arthur looked at his wife in surprise. "Where are you going so late?"

"Go and pack up the trash we're throwing away tomorrow," Molly's voice drifted over. "I put all those weird things of theirs in a separate bag, so they shouldn't be dirty... If they are, I can wash them clean."

"Wait for me, Molly..."

Arthur waved the Flashlight in his hand. The bulb flickered briefly, and the faint light quickly went out, never to shine again. He muttered in frustration, "The batteries are dead again. Honestly, why didn't I ask Loren how to fix these batteries..."

He shone his dim Flashlight as he bent down and went downstairs to chase after Molly.

Fortunately, Molly has always been in the habit of sorting her trash. The bag of Fake Wand, Fat Tongue Toffee, and other odds and ends was neatly wrapped in a paper bag and kept separate from the kitchen waste, without any damage.

At the end of the corridor of Riddle House on the hill outside Little Hangleton, in a small, long-closed room on the Second Floor, a faint firelight emanated from a slightly ajar door, casting an orange-yellow shadow on the dark floor.

By the dim light of the fire, Frank Bryce, the old gardener who had worked at Riddle House for decades, could see the furniture covered with white cloth, the wooden staircase covered with thick dust, and the ivy creeping in from the corner of the room.

The winding, twisting vines made the place look like a cold, gloomy cave inhabited by venomous snakes. The air was filled with a faint musty smell, and the room was dark and deep. Along with the faint firelight, there were also cold, hoarse sounds.

"We need to get Dementor quickly. I'm exhausted from the journey here because I don't have a suitable body."

Frank put down his cane and carefully moved his stiff legs. The thick dust and his rusty military skills prevented him from making any sound. He approached the door sideways and cautiously peered through the narrow crack.

A disheveled woman stood beside the chair, her posture humble and her back slightly bent, her expression solemn.

"But... Master, we clearly have a better option. You can be truly resurrected at any time, can't you?"

The woman said to the chair, "If we use another wizard, male or female, things can be resolved quickly! Whether it's me or Fenrir Greyback and his gang, we can bring you a suitable candidate in just half a day."

"Of course I can use another wizard..." came the cold voice from the chair. "You don't understand, Bellatrix. That boy has unique Magic Power ... I have my reasons for using him. I've waited thirteen years, a few more months won't make a difference."

"In that case... Master, please allow me to say something," the woman said sincerely. "We must act quickly. Hogwarts is about to start, and the boy will soon be back in the Castle, under the close protection of the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore."

"Don't rush, don't rush. The most important thing right now is to find me a suitable body..." The cold voice softened, "And now, we have a guest."

The strange-looking woman looked towards the door and met his gaze. Frank was startled.

"Please let him in, Bellatrix, and mind your manners."

The cold voice came from behind the old armchair in front of the fireplace, but Frank couldn't see who was speaking. The strange woman had a sinister smile on her face, like a hungry snake eyeing a fat rat.

Frank was trembling violently. All he wanted to do was go back to bed with a hot water bottle, but his broken body seemed to have no will to obey him. He limped and staggered into the room.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" the cold voice teased with a playful tone.

What did you call me?

"Muggle— " the strange woman explained with a cold laugh, "Meaning you're not a wizard."

"I don't know what you mean by 'wizard.'" As a veteran, Frank was able to remain calm in the face of danger. "I must tell you, my wife knows I'm here, and if I don't go back—"

"You don't have a spouse."

The cold voice spoke slowly and deliberately, "Nobody knows you're here, and you haven't told anyone you came here. Muggle, don't lie to Lord Voldemort, he knows everything... knows everything..."

A flash of green light appeared.

Frank Bryce collapsed to the ground, already dead before he fell, his face contorted with terror, just like the Riddle family who had perished decades earlier.

Hundreds of miles away, the boy Harry Potter suddenly woke up from his dream.

The lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead burned intensely, as if branded by a red-hot wire, scorching his skin. After a moment, Harry sat up in bed, fumbled for his glasses, and put them on. The scenery in the bedroom became clear.

The beds for Loren and the Twins were empty; only Ron was still fast asleep, groaning in the sun. Harry, recalling his dream, threw off the covers and got out of bed.

Downstairs in the living room, Loren was helping Hermione untangle the knots in her hair.

Arthur and Percy sat together reading today's the Daily Prophet, with Percy occasionally saying something that seemed to be analyzing the international situation.

The bag of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products was still on the table. George and Fred stood with their heads down in front of Mrs. Weasley —even though they were now taller Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be the taller one.

"... I can return these things to you, and you can continue your business." Mrs. Weasley, hands on her hips, looked up at the Twins with some difficulty. Seeing their sudden joy, she spoke sternly.

"But you must promise not to get into trouble with these things, and your father must approve them! Also, if you cause trouble at school with these things and I receive a complaint letter from Professor McGonagall, you will not be allowed to do these things again until you graduate!"

George and Fred's eyes widened in surprise as they looked at their mother, almost overjoyed.

George said nonchalantly, "Don't worry, we definitely won't let Professor McGonagall catch us!"

"What?" Molly stared at them.

George and Fred, ignoring everything else, bent down and kissed Molly on each cheek, then raised their hands and cheered, "Hooray! Mom!"

"Don't think that I'll lower my standards just because you're like this..." Molly tried to put on a serious face, but she couldn't suppress the smile on her lips.

Harry couldn't help but laugh when he saw this, and even the pain from the scar on his forehead subsided.