"Alan, you finally came to see us!" Charlie greeted him, looking every bit the reliable older brother.
"Alan, look how ridiculous Charlie looks in his school robes," the twins chimed in, never missing an opportunity to poke fun at their siblings.
"Alan, Bill mentioned you're being appointed as a Prefect next year. That's incredible. How did you manage that?" Percy asked, his tone characteristically serious.
Even Ron and Ginny, who were only toddlers, joined the chorus of screams, rushing forward with their brothers to swarm Alan. Their focus shifted instantly when they noticed the massive Husky sitting at his side. In a heartbeat, the pack of children descended upon Hog.
Hog had never experienced anything like it. Seven wizards, ranging from tall teenagers to tiny terrors, surrounded him. He froze, his fur bristling as he turned a shade paler beneath his coat. He tried to muster a fierce, predatory snarl to scare them off, but he had underestimated the sheer audacity of a Weasley child. They grabbed him, rubbing his ears and patting his belly. The youngest, Ginny, latched onto Hog's tail with a grip like iron and refused to let go.
"Woof." The terrified Hog looked at Alan, his eyes wide with a silent plea for sanctuary. He was clearly overwhelmed by the localized hurricane of children.
*Stop pulling! Why is this little girl so strong? She's going to rip my tail out! I'll be bald before dinner!* Hog's gaze toward Alan grew increasingly piteous.
"Alright, everyone, give him some space. Hog isn't used to the crowd. Come here—I've brought gifts," Alan said with a smile, reaching into his space ring.
At the mention of gifts, the swarm immediately abandoned the dog and rushed toward Alan, their faces alight with expectation. Only Ginny, perhaps too young to understand the concept of a present, maintained her relentless grip on Hog's tail, attempting to drag the wolf away by sheer force of will.
Alan produced several sets of high-quality Quidditch protective gear and a professional ball set. He had decided to splurge, spending over two hundred Galleons; the Golden Snitch alone had cost more than half that. He skipped the brooms, as those were a significantly larger investment, but the children didn't care.
The young Weasleys scrambled to pull on the leather padding. Charlie was the most eager, slipping the gear over his school robes without a second thought. Seeing the brand-new balls, they immediately began to itch for a match.
Inside the Burrow, Arthur heard the commotion and hurried out to investigate. He found a scene of total chaos. Little Ron was gliding six inches off the ground on a toy broom, flashing a gappy-toothed grin at his father. His older brothers were fully armored in leather, huddling over a large wooden crate.
And his beloved daughter, Ginny, was currently locked in a tug-of-war with a large, furry beast. She was stiff as a board, acting as a human anchor as the dog tried to crawl forward. Her heels had plowed two deep, perfectly straight grooves into the garden soil.
Arthur was about to intervene when he heard a sharp *bang*. A black shadow shot high into the sky.
"Look! It's the Quaffle! George, get ready—I'll get the broom!" Fred shouted, his eyes tracking the ball as it ascended.
"Merlin's beard, stop! Watch out for the little ones!" Arthur yelled, rushing forward.
George gripped a Beater's bat, bracing himself to deliver a powerful swing as the Quaffle began its descent. However, before he could make contact, the ball froze in mid-air. It hung there, vibrating as it struggled against an invisible force, but it didn't budge an inch.
"Alright, let's not worry your father. Now isn't the time for a match. Gear off," Alan said calmly, guiding the Quaffle back into its velvet-lined box with a flick of his fingers.
"Mr. Weasley, it's been too long," Alan said, turning to Arthur with a nod.
"It has been a year, Alan. You've grown—you must be nearly 1.8 meters now," Arthur remarked, having to look up slightly to meet the young man's eyes.
"You flatter me, sir," Alan replied humbly. He shot a sharp look at the twins, who were still hovering over the ball crate; they sheepishly snapped the lid shut.
"Come inside, quickly. Molly knew you were coming and prepared some vanilla tea," Arthur said, patting his stomach. Then he turned a stern eye toward the others. "Bill, Charlie, help your brothers pack this away. No dangerous balls in the garden. And someone get Ginny! Can't you see that dog has dragged her halfway to the orchard?"
Reminded by the shout, the group looked over. The struggle between Hog and Ginny was still ongoing. Hog had managed to drag her dozens of meters, leaving two long, crooked furrows in the grass. Ginny, stubborn to a fault, refused to yield. Bill, as the eldest, ran over to rescue both his sister and the dejected-looking wolf.
Alan knew Hog would never actually hurt her, so he didn't worry. Instead, he produced a bottle of fine Firewhisky and surreptitiously slid it into Arthur's hands with a meaningful wink. Arthur glanced around to ensure the coast was clear, then happily tucked the bottle into the depths of his robes.