Zhang Xiao studied the famous building carefully.
The kitchen was small and rather cramped, with a scrubbed wooden table and several wooden chairs in the middle.
The clock on the opposite wall had only one hand and no numbers. Instead, its face bore phrases such as "Time to make tea," "Feed the chickens," and "You're late."
Calling the Weasley family poor was hardly accurate. That clock alone was a very valuable magical item.
It could even clearly sense when a family member was in danger. Its only drawback was that it could not indicate their location.
Three layers of books were stacked on the mantelpiece: Enchant Your Cheese, The Magic of Baking Bread, Conjure a Feast!, and other spellbooks commonly found in wizarding households.
The old radio beside the sink blared, "Coming up next is Witching Hour, featuring the celebrated witch singer Celestina Warbeck."
"It's a bit shabby, isn't it? I bet it's nothing like your house."
Ron's ears turned bright red again. He poured Zhang Xiao a glass of lemonade, shrugged, and sat on the long table.
"Ron, whatever Harry thinks, I think too."
Harry grinned.
"I said it's the best house in the whole world!"
All three young wizards broke into happy smiles. Zhang Xiao tapped the table and asked about the topic that interested him most.
"Tell me about picking Harry up in the Flying Ford Anglia."
At the mention of this, confusion and irritation crossed Harry's face, and he said indignantly,
"Two weeks! For two whole weeks, I didn't get a single letter, and nobody answered the ones I sent either. I actually thought you'd all abandoned me!"
"We were writing to you the whole time, Harry!" Ron patted his shoulder sympathetically.
"Yeah! I only found out later that a house-elf had intercepted all my letters.