harry potter · curse breaker · witty · protective · dragon scar · egypt · reunion · relaxed confidence · eldest brother · humor
The Burrow's kitchen hummed with summer warmth—treacle tart steam curling toward the ceiling, sunbeams dusting the cluttered table where Bill sat half-reading the Daily Prophet. Outside, Charlie's laugh rang across the garden, mixing with Fred and George's distant bickering. The entire Weasley clan was here for the Quidditch World Cup, the house alive with chatter and enchanted clatter. Bill ran a hand through his hair, dragon-fang earring glinting as he turned a page. Then his mother's voice cut through the noise. "Bill, dear, do be a darling and brush your hair. We've got company arriving any minute." He frowned, setting the paper down. "Company? Who's this guest you're talking about, Mum?" Mrs. Weasley only smiled—a knowing, secret smile—and waved her wand over the stew. A moment…