As I spoke, her gaze finally settled on my face.
For a heartbeat, Molly Weasley simply stared.
Confusion flickered first—quick, reflexive. Then something deeper followed, something that made her breath hitch ever so slightly. Recognition.
For a brief, unguarded moment, it was as though she was staring at a ghost that had stepped out of the past and into the present without warning. Yet even then, she did not falter. Years of motherhood, loss, and quiet resilience held her upright.
"Yes, dear," she said gently, voice steady despite the storm behind her eyes.
"And what might I help you with?"
"Nothing," I replied softly. "I just wanted to thank you."
She blinked. "Thank me? For what?"
"For being her mentor," I said. "A true friend."
Her brows drew together. "Huh? Who—"
I inclined my head slightly, formal but not stiff.
"Let me introduce myself. I am Alastair Caelum Salvius–P.
Son of Caelum… and Evelyn."
The effect was immediate.
Her composure cracked—not shattered, but bent.
Shock crossed her face, followed instantly by something warmer. Brighter. A fragile, aching happiness that trembled dangerously close to grief.
Her lips parted.
"Is she…?" she whispered.
I shook my head once.
No words were needed.
For just a second—only a second—tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away with practiced ease, but I saw them. I saw the pain, the memory, the loss that had never truly healed.
Then she stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
It was warm. Fierce. Unapologetically maternal.
"Oh, you poor child," she murmured, holding me tightly.
"Where have you been all these years?"
She pulled back just enough to look at me, hands still gripping my shoulders as if afraid I might disappear.
"You can live with us during the holidays," she said immediately, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Summer, Christmas—any time."
I smiled.
A real one.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I said sincerely. "That means more than you know. But there are… family properties that have been neglected for a long time. I'll need to focus on restoring them during breaks."
Her mouth tightened slightly, understanding more than I'd said.
"But," I added quickly, "I'll visit. I promise."
That earned me a nod—firm, accepting.
"As for where I grew up," I continued, "it was an orphanage in the muggle world. I had no idea about my lineage. Not until a few days ago, when I entered Gringotts and took an inheritance test."
Her eyes softened further.
"That's when I learned the truth about my parents' deaths," I went on. "I… read about you in my mother's journals. That's why I came to say thank you."
Molly's hand rose to cover her mouth.
"Oh, my dear boy," she whispered. "Your mother was just like you. Kind. Fierce when it mattered. Always thinking of others."
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
"If you have any problems at school," she said, voice firm now, "find my boys. Charlie or Percy will help you."
She hesitated, then added with a sigh, "Fred and George are in your year. If you get along… try to keep them out of trouble."
I allowed myself a faint smile.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," I said calmly.
"They'll be fine."
"All your children will be fine this time."
She tilted her head, frowning slightly. "This time?"
"Ah—" I coughed lightly. "Nothing."
Before she could press the point, I turned toward Ron, who was still sulking at her side.
I knelt to his height, catching his attention. With a small, practiced flick of my hand—nothing magical, just a bit of sleight-of-hand—I produced a wrapped sweet from seemingly nowhere.
"Here you go, Ron," I said, holding it out.
"Be good to your mother, alright?"
Ron's eyes widened. The candy became his entire world. He nodded vigorously, already halfway unwrapping it.
Beside him, Ginny clapped excitedly, eyes shining.
I repeated the trick, producing another sweet and offering it to her with a small bow.
"This one's for the beautiful lady."
Ginny beamed like she'd been presented a rose by a knight.
Molly laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Well," she said, warmth returning to her voice, "you should get back to your train."
I straightened and nodded.
"If you ever need anything," she added, "just send me an owl."
"I will," I promised.
With one last look at the Weasley family—at warmth, chaos, and strength bound together by love—I turned and climbed back onto the train.
As the compartment door slid shut behind me, I felt it clearly.
Some bonds didn't break with time.
They waited.
Quietly.
Patiently.
Until the right moment to be found again.
____________________________________
Fred & George Weasley POV
Escaping Mum was an art.
An ancient, highly refined art.
Fred burst through the train door first, nearly tripping over his own feet, with George right behind him. They didn't stop running until they'd put at least three compartments and one angry maternal lecture between themselves and the platform.
Only then did they slow, panting.
"Close one," Fred muttered.
"Very close," George agreed solemnly. "I saw the list coming out."
Both of them shuddered.
They wandered down the corridor, peering into compartments—too loud, too crowded, too boring—until they spotted one near the end with only a single occupant.
A girl.
She was sitting by the window, chin resting on her palm, eyes fixed outside with an intensity that suggested the world itself had personally offended her and she was daring it to do worse.
Perfect.
Fred knocked lightly on the doorframe.
No response.
George leaned in. "Either she's deaf, asleep, or plotting world domination."
They exchanged a look and slid the door open anyway.
The girl didn't even flinch.
She stayed focused on the platform outside.
Naturally, that made them curious.
Fred and George squeezed in, each claiming half of the window like synchronized parasites.
And then they saw him.
Down on the platform.
Talking to Mum.
Fred's brain stalled.
George's brain stalled harder.
Mum didn't just talk to strangers.
Mum interrogated them.
Corrected them.
Fed them.
Threatened them.
She did not hug them.
And yet—
She hugged him.
Fred squinted. "George."
"Yes, Fred."
"Do we… have another brother?"
George frowned deeply. "Why weren't we told?"
That finally got the girl's attention.
She snapped her head toward them, eyes sharp.
"Shut up, both of you," she hissed. "He's not your brother."
Fred relaxed slightly. "Oh good."
Then—
"Then who is he?"They said it together, perfectly synchronized.
The girl crossed her arms.
"He's Alastair."
Fred blinked. "Just… Alastair?"
George tilted his head. "Is he famous?"
"Why is he—" Fred began.
"—talking to our mother?" George finished.
The girl sighed like she'd already regretted this entire conversation.
"How would I know?" she said. "He just said he'd be back in a minute."
They turned back to the window just in time to see the boy kneel in front of Ron.
Fred's eyes widened.
George's mouth fell open.
The boy waved his hand—and candy appeared.
Ron accepted it instantly.
Ginny clapped.
Fred leaned back, scandalized. "Was that wandless magic?"
George squinted. "And isn't it against Gamp's Law to produce food?"
The girl rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out.
"Idiots. That's not magic," she said flatly. "It's a muggle trick."
Fred stared at her. "You're serious?"
George leaned forward eagerly. "Do you know how to do it?"
She opened her mouth to answer—
And the compartment door slid open.
The boy stepped inside.
Calm. Composed. Completely unbothered by the fact that two red-haired menaces were occupying his space and staring at him like he'd just grown a second head.
He glanced at all three of them.
"So," he said mildly, shutting the door behind him."What's going on here?"
Fred and George looked at each other.
Then back at him.
Then grinned—wide, identical, unmistakably intrigued.
"Oh," Fred said brightly."Nothing at all."
"Just," George added,"Trying to figure out who you are."
"And how," Fred continued,"you managed to make our mum hug you."
"And whether," George finished,"you can teach us that candy trick."
The boy raised an eyebrow.
The girl groaned.
And just like that—
The Weasley twins had found their newest mystery.
__________________________
Guys support my writing By becoming P@treon Member. It will help me keeping the Schedule consistent and ensure quality story.
Support me on p@treon:
[email protected]/blaze98