Ottery St. Catchpole.
Morning mist lay over the rolling hills like a sheet of damp gauze.
From the crooked chimney of The Burrow, a thin trail of smoke curled into the grey sky.
Inside the kitchen, warm air carried the smell of toasting bread and frying bacon. And something else , that particular scent that belonged only to Molly Weasley, wool and warmth all wound together.
Douglas appeared in the doorway like a neighbor's boy who had timed his arrival perfectly to a meal. He wore an easy smile and held a paper bag printed with the Honeydukes logo.
"Good morning, Aunt Molly. I could smell it from the lane."
Mrs. Weasley was directing a row of plates toward the dining table with her wand. The moment she saw him, surprise lit up her tired face like a lamp switched on. She nearly ran out of the kitchen, apron still white with flour.
"Oh, Douglas! Merlin's beard, get in here!"
Her joy could have melted the doorframe. She threw her arms open and pulled him into a firm hug.
"Arthur! Come look who's here!"
Mr. Weasley's head appeared from the living room. He set down the Daily Prophet, and a genuine smile spread across his face.
With no children home, the house was quieter than usual , and somehow that made the warmth feel more concentrated, more present.
Douglas sat down naturally. Molly immediately began piling food onto his plate like she was feeding a very hungry owl.
"Eat more. You look thinner again. Is the food at school not good enough?"
"Auntie, if the Hogwarts kitchens heard that, they'd go on strike."
Douglas cut open a sausage, grinning.
They talked easily , the latest Ministry gossip, Ginny's most recent letter. The atmosphere was light enough that last night's silent, shadowed chess game might as well have never happened.
Midway through, Douglas took a sip of pumpkin juice and set the glass down.
"Speaking of which , how is your Occlumency coming along?"
It was like flipping a switch.
The warmth in the kitchen froze solid for one full second.
The Weasleys looked at each other. Their expressions shifted , serious now, and with a quiet undercurrent of something electric.
Arthur straightened in his chair, a touch of pride in his voice.
"We've mastered it, Douglas. Whenever you want to check."
Douglas's eyes changed. Something deeper moved behind them.
He didn't speak. He simply looked at them.
A force, gentle and patient and impossible to refuse, reached out like a thread of invisible smoke. It didn't push. It didn't pry. It simply rested against the edge of their minds, and knocked, softly.
Both Weasleys felt a brief warmth across their foreheads. Then it passed.
Douglas nodded, satisfied.
"Very solid." He paused. "Your natural ability is better than I expected."
The inspection was over. Douglas set down his knife and fork.
The easy smile left his face completely. What replaced it was a gravity the Weasleys hadn't seen on him before.
"Uncle. Auntie." His voice was quiet. "What I'm about to tell you is extremely important. You have to promise me , until the moment is right, this stays between the three of us. The highest confidence."
The words caught in their chests. In his tone, they smelled something , the sharp, briny bite of air before a storm rolls in.
"First."
Each word landed like a stone dropping into still water.
"The Dark Lord has not disappeared."
"He has returned."
"He's still weak. But he is gathering strength."
CLATTER!
Molly's fork hit the edge of her plate. The sound rang out sharp and clear.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes filled with fear , sudden and vast.
Arthur's face drained of color. He reached across the table and closed his hand over hers. Her fingers were cold and shaking.
"And that," Douglas continued, "is precisely why we've had to choose certain unusual ways to fight."
"For example..."
He paused. His gaze moved to Molly's face, steady and careful.
"Percy."
That one word was enough.
Molly's defenses came down completely. Everything she had held back for months , the hurt, the bitterness, the bone-deep disappointment , broke through at once. Tears spilled before she could stop them.
She had braced herself for the worst. She had thought Douglas was here to confirm it: that Percy had gone over to the one who must not be named.
Douglas's voice was calm and clean, like light cutting through a dark room.
"Percy's arguments with you."
"His obsession with advancement."
"The distance he's put between himself and his family..."
"The old Percy , maybe. But now? All of it is a cover. The best one he could build."
"He has always been exactly who he was , the Percy who loves this family, who is proud to be a Weasley."
Molly's sobbing stopped.
She stared at Douglas. Her face was blank, like she hadn't understood the words yet , like she didn't dare.
Douglas kept going.
"His position puts him very close to the center of power. Very close to Mr. Crouch. That gives him access to intelligence none of the rest of us can reach."
"To protect himself — and to protect all of you — he has to keep his distance. He has to make the separation look real."
The truth arrived like a blade held back too long.
It opened something in Molly's chest. Everything that had festered there , all of it rushed out at once, and it hurt, the way a wound hurts when it finally begins to drain. She went from quiet weeping to something uncontrolled, something shaking.
But these tears were different.
Relief.
A mother's aching, furious, desperate pride.
Her son. Her Percy. A hero, all along.
Arthur had suspected. He had let himself wonder. Even so, his eyes went red. He nodded again and again, lips pressed together, trembling, no words left in him.
He pulled Molly against his chest and held her. He let her cry into his shoulder and didn't try to stop her.
Douglas waited.
He sat without moving until Molly's breathing steadied and the worst of it passed.
"So." His voice was soft. "Until Percy exposes himself on his own terms — until he chooses to reach out — please keep treating him the way you have been. Don't go to him. Don't make contact."
"Because the moment he comes to us first, it means things have reached a crisis point."
"When that happens."
His gaze moved between them, and the weight behind it was absolute.
"Believe him. Without question. The same way you believe me right now."
Arthur looked up at this young man sitting across from him , barely older than his own sons. The sly, easy smile Douglas usually wore was gone. What remained was something steadier than his years had any right to produce.
This was what he had been carrying.
Admiration and gratitude rose in Arthur's chest, complicated and full.
"We will." His voice came out rough and low. "We will."
Douglas nodded. He added one more thing.
"Percy is in real danger, that close to Crouch."
"Mr. Crouch himself is hiding things. A great many things."
"If the opportunity comes, Uncle , keep your eyes on the Ministry. Not actively. Don't put yourself at risk. Just stay aware."
---
At the same time.
In a cave far from any human settlement, cold and damp and lightless.
Something lay curled in a nest of filthy blankets. Formless. Raw. It looked like something that had never been finished , something that had been peeled down to its wrong parts.
It breathed in shallow, wheezing rasps.
Wormtail crouched beside it, hands shaking, tipping a bowl of warm milk cut with snake venom toward what passed for its mouth.
"Master... just a little more... you will regain your strength..."
The thing convulsed. The bowl clattered to the stone floor.
"Worthless."
The voice drove directly into Wormtail's skull. Sharp as a nail. Cold as iron.
"You couldn't neutralize one senile old fool! Dumbledore! Always Dumbledore!"
"He placed protections on the old man. He knew. He always knows!"
Voldemort's fury churned through the dark , enormous, furious, directionless.
Wormtail pressed himself flat against the floor. He trembled like a leaf in a gale.
"Master... please, calm, "
"Calm?" Pure venom. "No, Wormtail. He will pay for this."
"The tournament. The Triwizard Tournament. That is my opening. A chance that comes once in a thousand years."
"Potter will enter. Dumbledore will make certain of it , and in doing so, he will deliver the boy straight to me."
"In front of the entire wizarding world, I will strip away everything he has built. I will grind his pieces to nothing."
"I will make him understand , once and for all , who the true master is."
---
In the kitchen of The Burrow, sunlight fell through the window in long, warm stripes of gold.
The Weasleys were quieter now. The grief and shock had settled into something else , heavier, but steadier. A resolve they hadn't carried before. The kind that comes from knowing.
Their family had always been bound tightly together. Now, with this secret woven between them, the bond was something harder, something that would not bend.
Douglas scraped the last of his scrambled eggs from his plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"I should head off. Thank you for breakfast, Auntie."
"There's a mountain of essays back at school with my name on them."
He stood, and just like that, the easy manner came back , that loose-shouldered, unhurried version of himself. The sunlight caught him on his way to the door.
He looked exactly like an ordinary young man who had simply come by to visit people he cared about.
---
PS: Today's question.
Which of the following correctly describes Article 13 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?
A. Magic may be performed in front of Muggle children, provided a Memory Charm is applied afterward
B. The sale of any magical item , including Quidditch equipment , to Muggles is strictly prohibited
C. When a Muggle accidentally witnesses magic, the incident must be reported to the Ministry of Magic's Obliviator Squad within 24 hours
D. A wizard wishing to marry a Muggle must submit an application to the "Department of Cross-Species Relations" no less than one month in advance
➤ Next: Harry's Ecstasy: I Did It! The Private Papers from Uncle Really Worked!
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