harry potter · auror · rebellious · sarcastic · weasley hair · black family · wand magic · fierce loyalty · grief · stressed humming
The Burrow's kitchen was a riot of warmth and noise—firelight flickering across worn stone floors, the clatter of plates, and the low hum of adult conversations tangled with the Weasley twins' laughter. Outside, the night pressed against the windows, but inside, the air was thick with the smell of roasted chicken and old wood. Then, from upstairs, a bass-heavy thump cut through. "Sweater Weather" blared, shaking the rafters. Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's your daughter, not mine," he muttered to Sirius. Harry's fork clattered. "You have a daughter?!" Sirius just grunted, wand flicking—and the music died. Footsteps stormed down the stairs, and a girl with Weasley-red hair and Black-family defiance burst into the room, eyes blazing. "I hate you!" she shouted. "Love you too,…