Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry was sitting in one of the many armchairs at the Burrow. He glanced over at Hermione, only to be met with a stern, pointed look that practically screamed: Say something, or I will—and you won’t like it. He grimaced.

“Do you guys mind, um, explaining the classification thingys to us?” he asked.

At Hermione’s raised brow, he quickly corrected, begrudgingly: “To me. Not us… apparently.”

“Yeah, of course we can, Harry,” Charlie said, setting his tea down. He looked to Bill to lead, but as Bill was still working through a mouthful of custard creams, Charlie began.

Charlie glanced between them. “It’s easier to understand if you think of it like a pack,” he said. “Everyone has a role—a place where they fit naturally. Some lead, some protect, some support… and some don’t fit neatly anywhere, but still hold everything together. It’s not just about power. It’s about balance.”

Bill swallowed his biscuit and picked up the thread. “Alphas like me lead and protect. We’re dominant, yeah—but we don’t always have to be loud or bossy.”

“Caregivers,” Charlie added, “like Mum, George, and me—we’re the backbone. We support, nurture, and make sure everyone’s okay.”

Harry nodded slowly, still a little lost. “And Betas?”

“They’re the stabilizers,” Bill explained. “Dependable. Orderly. They don’t seek power, but they’re essential to keeping everything running smoothly.”

He smiled softly, eyes closing as he slipped quietly into his dreams.

Charlie chimed in. “Then there are Doms and Subs. They’re more about dynamics—how someone relates to others. Doms lead in a direct, assertive way. Subs are receptive, more responsive.”
Harry nodded slowly, trying to piece it all together. “So, alphas lead, caregivers look after everyone, betas keep things steady, and doms and subs have those… dynamics.”
Bill gave a small, approving nod. “Yeah, you’ve got it. Each role has its place, and none are less important. It’s about how everyone fits to make the pack work.”
Charlie leaned forward a little. “And then there are the littles and caregivers—they tend to be more carefree and need a bit of extra care. Handlers and pets have a different kind of connection, where handlers guide and protect their pets. Both dynamics are just as important.”

Harry blinked, fascinated by the layers. “Sounds complicated.”

Bill shrugged. “It can be. But when it works, it keeps everyone safe and balanced.”

Charlie smiled softly. “Exactly. It’s about belonging, understanding your place, and knowing who’s got your back.”

My back?” Harry asked, confused.
Bill nodded. “Yeah. In a pack, everyone watches out for each other. Alphas lead and protect, caregivers support and nurture, betas keep things balanced, and the rest all play their roles. It’s about trust—knowing someone’s got your back no matter what.”
Charlie smiled gently. “It’s like a family, but deeper. You rely on each other in ways that go beyond just friendship.”
Harry leaned back, absorbing it all. “Makes sense. So it’s less about power and more about responsibility?”
Bill grinned. “Exactly. Power without responsibility doesn’t last.”

Harry frowned, hesitating before blurting out, “So what about… generals? Like Arthur? Where do they fit in all this?”
Bill growled low, his eyes narrowing. Harry leaned all the way back in his chair, tensing, sucking in a breath. He looked at Hermione, silently blaming her for convincing him to ask in the first place.
“No, I’m not. I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about this stuff—I didn’t mean to,” Harry quickly added, sounding a little flustered.
Charlie stood up, stepping between Bill and Harry with a calm but firm presence. “Bill’s just in pre-rut, that’s why he’s on edge,” he explained quietly. “And… well, Arthur being a Gen—generals don’t fit neatly into the usual roles. People tease Arthur for having an Alpha son, and Bill’s sensitive about that.”

Bill shot Charlie a brief, thankful look but didn’t soften his stance.
Charlie gave Harry a reassuring smile. “Generals are rare. They’re often overlooked or misunderstood, but they keep the family steady in their own way.”
“Leave the pup alone,” Charlie said sharply, emphasizing the word ‘pup.’
Bill’s growl cut off instantly. His eyes widened as he registered Harry’s age and status—he was just a pup. Suddenly aware, Bill glanced down and noticed Harry’s hands trembling slightly. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and guilt. “Sorry, Harry,” he muttered quietly.
“Here, you need to eat more,” Charlie said kindly, placing a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of Harry. With Hermione gently rubbing his back, Harry calmed down quickly. He could feel Charlie’s pointed look at Bill, who now looked rather ashamed.

Harry spoke quietly. “Thank you. I really didn’t know. The Muggles who raised me weren’t tolerant of most classifications. My aunt was a Sub and my uncle a Gen, but they lived in a neighborhood where it was considered rude to talk about this stuff. My aunt even hid the fact she had a classification. We lived in this special neighborhood where the PTA strongly advised everyone to keep it secret. I know—even in the Muggle world, that’s weird. I don’t think anywhere else is like that. It’s just… I don’t know any of this stuff.”

Charlie nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, it’s pretty strange—even for Muggles—to hide something so important. In the magical world, your classification isn’t just a label. It’s part of who you are. It shapes how you live, how you connect with others, and how you protect your pack. We’re taught from a young age to accept it, even celebrate it.”

Bill sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Keeping it secret can breed confusion—and worse, resentment. People don’t understand each other if they’re hiding parts of themselves. That’s part of why I get so defensive about Arthur. He’s a Gen, and a lot of folks don’t respect that, especially with me being an Alpha. But he’s the glue that holds us all together.”

Hermione glanced between them, sitting on the arm of the arm chair Harry was on her brow furrowed but curious. “So, classifications aren’t just social roles—they’re like… a way of life?”
Charlie smiled gently. “Exactly. It’s not always easy, but it’s real. Everyone’s place matters, even the ones who get overlooked.”

Harry’s voice wavered a little as he added, “It’s just… I know that each one comes with expectations. And well, what about… what about me? Everyone wants me to be an Alpha, and I don’t even know if I am. Does that… does that matter?”

Bill’s expression softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “It matters more how you feel inside than what anyone else says. Being an Alpha isn’t just about being strong or loud. It’s about how you protect, lead, and care for those who follow you. But you know what? It’s perfectly okay if you’re not an Alpha. There’s no shame in finding your own way.”
Charlie nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Your place in the pack isn’t fixed. It can grow and change. What matters most is being true to yourself and where you feel you belong. Whether you’re an Alpha, a Caregiver, or something else — that’s what counts.”
Harry hesitate his hand fiddling with the plate before fumbling almost dropping it in the process and putting it down gently so as not to break it, before asking, “So it’s okay… if I’m not an Alpha? Not that I won’t be, but…?”

Bill smiled gently, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s okay. You don’t have to be an Alpha just because everyone expects it. You’ll find your own way, and that’s what really matters.”
Charlie gave Harry an encouraging nod. “Exactly. There’s strength in being who you truly are, no matter the label. Any pack worth the name will support you for that.”

Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face—until a massive BANG echoed from upstairs. In an instant, Bill and Charlie were off, rushing toward the noise.
Hermione snagged the couch they’d been sitting on, patting the spot beside her. Harry quickly joined her, letting his head fall against her shoulder.

“See? Asking them went fine. You got the answers, I told you—you had nothing to worry about,” Hermione said softly.
Harry shot her a side-eye. “Yeah, I almost got eaten by an alpha twice my size.”
“Quit being dramatic,” Hermione teased.
“Hey, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m rather small and pretty skinny. My only defense is sarcasm.”

Hermione snorted softly as she took the blanket he’d been eyeing, knowing he was too polite to wrap it around himself. He snuggled into it but made sure it covered her too.

“Hey, Mione, do you think they meant it?”
“What? You almost getting eaten?”
“No, I mean the alpha stuff.”
“Of course, Harry. Anyone who matters will love you whether you’re a frog, a Sub, a donkey—no one cares.”

Harry smiled softly, the weight in his chest easing just a little. “It’s just… I’ve never really thought about where I fit. It’s all been so confusing.”
Hermione tightened the blanket around them both. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. What matters is you’re here, with people who want you around for exactly who you are.”
He let out a quiet breath, feeling the steady beat of her calm presence beside him.
“Thanks, Mione,” he muttered as his head lulled back onto her lap, his socked feet stretching over the end of the sofa.
“Love you, Mione.”
“Love you too, Harry. Now go to sleep.” He smiled softly, eyes closing as he slipped quietly into his dreams.

Chapter Text

Harry woke slowly, the soft buzz of activity drifting from other rooms downstairs. Blinking against the light, he realized he was still curled up under the blanket — which, to his surprise, was now draped over Hermione too. He must have accidentally pulled her in while half-asleep.
“Sleepy head,” a familiar voice teased from the doorway.
Harry looked up to see George, holding a tray of decorations and tinsel, grinning as he balanced everything carefully. “Oi, you’ve trapped Hermione under there,” he said with mock concern. “You’ve got a whole party to help set up, and here you are playing burrito.”

Hermione laughed softly, putting her book down and brushing hair from her face. “He’s not causing any trouble. Just... a polite blanket hog.”
George chuckled and shook his head. “Well, if you two are done being cozy, we’ve got work to do.
“Well, if you two are done cuddling, we’ve got work to do. Today’s the big Weasley tradition — classifying party and Ginnys go in early this year so it’s going to be extra big.
“Tinsel?” Harry asked, sitting up.
George grinned. “Dad’s idea,” he said fondly.
Harry wanted to ask why Ginny was being classified early, but he didn’t want a repeat of earlier awkwardness. Hermione, however, had no such qualms.
“Between you and me,” she whispered, “Mum’s worried Ginny’s a little. You know. They need support early, so they’re getting her done now.”
“Oh, Ginny’s a little?” Harry asked, surprised — he hadn’t gotten that vibe from her at all.
Fred, overhearing as he spelled out a well loved banner, scoffed. “Mum wishes. She just wants Ginny to be one. Reckons it’ll help with the major empty nest syndrome.”
George smirked and shook his head. “Empty nest syndrome, huh? Knowing Mum, she’s probably planning to adopt a dozen more pups just to keep the house noisy.”
He glanced at Harry and Hermione with a knowing look. “And if she gets her way, you two might be next on the list.”

George nudged Harry gently. “C’mon, sleepy head. Help us get this place ready before Mum starts handing out snacks and interrogating everyone about their predicted class.”
Hermione smiled up at Harry. “You up for it?”
Harry stretched, blinking away the last traces of sleep. “I guess I should learn what this whole classifying thing really means — from the ground up.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, the classifying party’s mostly for fun—everyone tries to guess who’s what. But Ginny’s getting officially classified early this year, so there’s extra excitement.”
Fred rolled his eyes. “Mum just wants the party to feel special, and maybe to see if people think her ‘little’ Ginny really fits the role she’s hoping for.”
Hermione leaned in, whispering, “Of course, the real classifications don’t change. The guessing is just a tradition—like a game everyone enjoys.”
Harry smiled, relaxing a bit. “So, it’s like a friendly game, but the real thing’s already decided?”
“Exactly,” George said. “And no matter what, the pack loves you for who you are.”

The front door swung open, and Arthur stepped inside, Ron close behind him, both looking a little worn but content. Moments later, Molly arrived with Ginny, their shopping bags swinging gently in hand.
“Back so soon?” Molly smiled warmly, setting the bags down.
Arthur chuckled. “Ministry business took longer than expected. Ron kept me sane, though.”
Ron gave a tired grin. “Mostly by making terrible jokes.”
Molly nodded toward Ginny. “And we managed to grab everything she needs for tonight.” Handing over a shopping bag which Ginny took and fled with.
Molly smiled kindly and gave Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Harry, dear, why don’t you pop upstairs and change into something nice for the party too? We’ve got everything ready down here.”

Harry nodded and headed toward the spare room where the robes hung, pulling out one of the nicer-looking robes that had been left there. He slipped it on but immediately struggled with the buckle near the collar. No matter how he twisted or pulled, it refused to fasten. He pulled on the robe—deep forest green with subtle embroidery—and tried to fasten the buckle at the front.

Only… the buckle wasn’t cooperating.

Harry fiddled with the stubborn buckle, twisting the strap this way and that, tugging gently, but it just wouldn’t click into place. Frustration bubbled up. “Come on, stupid thing,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m about ready to just rip this off.”
Just then, the door creaked open and Ron poked his head in, grinning. “Looks like you’re wrestling with your clothes again.”
Harry scowled. “This stupid buckle. It’s like it’s trying to tie me up instead of keeping me covered.”
Ron laughed and stepped fully inside. “Let me see that.”

Without hesitation, Ron reached out and, with a few quick, practiced moves, clicked the buckle perfectly into place.
“There,” Ron said, giving Harry a once-over. “See? Not so hard.”
Harry looked down at himself and then back at Ron, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Ron. I was ready to just rip the whole thing off.”
Ron chuckled. “Mate, if I had a knut for everytime you struggled with clothes, I’d be rich.”
Harry laughed relaxing as he felt the familiar warmth of friendship settle in.
“Thanks, Ron,” he said quietly.
Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Anytime, Harry. Now let’s get downstairs before mum sends out a search party.”
The living room buzzed with laughter and chatter as everyone settled in.Molly came over and placed slips of paper into a muggle letterbox smiling as she did. The slips held predictions for each of them on it.

“All right, everyone, time for some fun!” she announced with a bright smile. “I’ve made my official classifications for each of you. Let’s see if you agree.”
She pulled out a slip for Harry, beaming. “Harry, you’re definitely a dom — strong, in charge, always ready to lead!”
Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced at Hermione, who bit her lip to keep from laughing whilst Ron didn’t even cover up his snort.
Molly continued, turning to Ginny. “Ginny, you’re a little, sweet and innocent, just like my little girl should be.”
Ginny snorted softly, rolling her eyes but trying not to smile.
Fred tried to covertly laugh into George’s shoulder. “There are plenty of words to describe my sister,” he whispered, “but innocent isn’t one of them.”
“Yeah, Satan was once an angel,” Fred snarked quietly.
Percy shot Fred a sharp look and shushed him, his finger pressed gently against his lips.
Ginny gave a mock glare at Fred but couldn’t stop a small grin from tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I think Mum might be a little off on the details,” Charlie mused as Molly headed into the kitchen to grab some drinks.
“Yeah,” Ginny chimed in, “definitely not the innocent little she thinks I am.”
Percy, who had seen Ginny in the middle of her second year snogging Seamus Finnigan in a broom cupboard, had to agree—he couldn’t even look at his prefect badge for a week after that.
Hermione nodded, folding her arms.
“And I’m hardly quiet or obedient — at least, not all the time.”
As Molly came back in, Fred, who had been watching the whole time, grinned. “Maybe next time, Mum, you should get us to fill these out ourselves before you embarrass yourself.”
Molly gave a playful glare. “Oh hush, Fred. It’s all in good fun!”
The group burst into laughter as Molly handed out the slips for everyone to read their “classifications,” the warm teasing filling the room as the party kicked off.

All right, first game!” Molly announced, clapping her hands together. “We’re going to play ‘Match the Scent’ — you’ll each get a card with a perfume on it, which,” she said, waving her wand with a quick muttered spell, “magically matches the scent of someone in this room.”
All of Ron’s siblings groaned in unison.
“What?!” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a classic,” George said with a grin. “Totally embarrassing for the unsuspecting.”
Fred winked at Ginny. “Let the sniffing begin!”

Molly handed out the cards, and the game kicked off amid laughter, teasing, and the occasional dramatic sniff.

Ginny took a deep, theatrical sniff of her card and scrunched up her nose. “Ugh, that smells like Fred’s after-quaffle sweat.”
Fred laughed, pretending to be offended. “Hey, that’s eau de victory, thank you very much.”
Ron eyed his card suspiciously. “Do I really have to sniff this in front of everyone?”
“Of course!” Molly chimed. “Part of the fun!”
Harry caught Hermione sneaking a quick smile as she tried to guess who her perfume belonged to. “Got your card, Hermione?” he whispered.
She nodded, whispering back, “Yep. Definitely not mine.”
As the guesses flew around, Molly’s confident commentary clashed hilariously with the actual perfume matches.
“Ah, I knew that one was yours, George!” Molly declared, sniffing a card and turning toward Fred.
Fred raised an eyebrow. “Mum… that’s actually my scent.”
“Oh! Well, it’s definitely got the same zing,” Molly replied, still sure of herself.
George grinned and elbowed Fred. “Looks like Mum’s mixing us up again.”
Fred smirked. “Classic.“

Next, Hermione took her card with a raised eyebrow. She sniffed carefully, then smiled. “That’s definitely Percy’s. It’s kind of… faint but… distinct.”
Percy looked pleased, adjusting his tie. “I take pride in subtlety.”
Molly nodded approvingly. “Percy always does smell very refined. Good job, Hermione.”

Harry held his card up and gave it a cautious sniff. The scent was unfamiliar—warm, slightly floral, with a hint of something earthy. His eyes went a little glassy.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”
Harry nodded, passing her the card. She sniffed carefully, then grinned. “That’s definitely Charlie’s. Kind of like... a warm, cozy blanket.”
Harry’s shoulders slackened, and he leaned lightly against Hermione. Ron quickly caught him by the wrist, steadying them both, and soon they were all leaning back on the couch, tangled up together. Harry couldn’t help the dopey smile spreading across his face.

“Wow… that’s… really nice. I feel like I’m floating,” he said, blissfully dazed.
Ginny spotted him and nudged George. “Harry’s gone full scent-drunk.”
George grinned. “Better keep an eye on him, or he’ll be volunteering to herd dragons next, all starry-eyed chasing after Charlie.”
Fred smirked, wagging a finger at Charlie. “Careful, Charlie, you’ve got a fan.”
Ron laughed, shaking his head but smiling fondly. “Give him a break, will you? He’s not used to this stuff — no wonder he’s all dazed.”
Molly appeared with a reassuring smile, guiding Harry gently to sit up on the sofa. “Here, dear, have a seat. You’re not used to those caregiver pheromones.”
Harry flopped down next to Ron with a blissful sigh, still smiling like he’d just discovered the best thing ever.

Hermione chuckled. “Don’t worry, Harry, it’s just pheromones — not a love potion.”
Harry grinned up at her. “Maybe next time, warn me.”
Charlie burst out laughing, clearly amused. “Well, I can’t say I mind having a fan.”
He gave Harry a playful wink, making everyone chuckle even more.
Molly laughed. “Alright, alright — your guess?”
Harry sat up, still a bit dreamy. “Charlie.”
“Correct!” Hermione said, grinning.

Chapter Text

Molly transfigured a few blindfolds out of some fabric scraps and placed them in a neat pile on the table. “Alright, next game!” she announced, beaming. “This one’s called ‘Leading the Sub’ — inspired by the dom-sub dynamic. Each sub will wear a blindfold and have to find their way spots around the house to collect their key. But here’s the catch: their dom has to guide them with just their voice. No touching!”

The room buzzed with excitement.
“Okay, each of you choose a sub!” Molly instructed.
Ron was first to pounce. “George! Get in here!” he nearly shouted, used to being the first and fastest when it came to grabbing what he wanted.
Hermione noticed Percy looking a bit downcast, probably assuming no one would pick him. She gave him a kind smile and said, “You’re coming with me, Percy.”
Ginny, eyes sparkling with mischief, immediately picked Fred. “Chaos incoming,” she declared.
Harry glanced between Bill and Charlie, not wanting to leave either out. Both Bill and Charlie looked at each other with matching hopeful expressions, silently pleading the other would volunteer first — or better yet, that someone else would intervene and rescue them from participation altogether. It was quite the picture: the two eldest a massive a,pha and bulky caregiver both biggest in the room quietly trying to sneak their way out of a dom-sub party game, while the smallest pup there had somehow ended up with the power of choice.

They hesitated too long.

Molly clapped her hands decisively. “Too slow, boys! You're both subs now.”
Charlie groaned audibly. “Mum—”
“Nope!” Molly grinned wickedly. “You know the rules. Delay like that is consent in this house!”
Fred cackled. “Look at you two! Outmaneuvered by the tiniest pup in the room!”
Bill shot Harry a long-suffering but not unkind look. “Go easy on us, yeah?”
Harry held up his hands helplessly. “I’m still figuring out what I’m meant to do.”
Ginny leaned over to whisper loudly to Hermione, “This is going to be the most disaster doming I’ve ever seen.”
George grinned. “And the most entertaining.”
Ron, already guiding a blindfolded George into a wall, added, “Trust me, the bar’s low.”“Alright, Harry — you’re up!” Molly called, placing two blindfolds squarely into his hands. “Your subs await.”
Both Bill and Charlie exchanged identical expressions of mild horror, but before either could protest, Molly waved her wand, and the blindfolds secured themselves around their eyes.
“Wait—what? You were serious?” Charlie protested.
“Too late!” Ginny grinned. “You’re in now. Harry’s got you.”
Harry looked at the two tall, rugged men standing in front of him and immediately regretted his entire existence.

Harry found himself standing awkwardly between Bill and Charlie, who were both now blindfolded and looking deeply unimpressed.
“All right, Dom Harry,” Fred called dramatically. “Time to command your charges!”
“I don’t think I’m qualified for this,” Harry muttered, looking at Hermione for moral support.
“You’ll be fine,” she said, grinning as she gently guided Percy toward the hallway with a calm, “One step to your left… no, your left.”
Meanwhile, Bill had already bumped into the back of the sofa. “Is this really necessary?” he asked dryly.
“Absolutely,” Molly said, pulling a chair out of the way. “It builds trust!”
Charlie, arms slightly raised like he expected a rogue broom to whack him, sighed. “This is ridiculous.”
“I could just... walk you both there?” Harry offered weakly.
“No!” Ginny barked gleefully from across the room. “You have to guide them! With words. Like a proper dom.”
Ron barked a laugh. “Harry, say something commanding!”
Harry looked at the two tall, rugged men standing in front of him and immediately regretted his entire existence..again.
Harry panicked. “Um. Okay. Step forward. Gently. Carefully—Charlie, not that way!”
Charlie’s knee hit a table leg. “Ow.”
Fred stage-whispered, “That’s one for Charlie’s trust issues.”

“Okay… um. Bill—take one step forward. No, not so big! That’s—watch the—oh.”
Bill’s shin thudded directly into the coffee table.
“Ow.”
“Sorry! I should’ve said medium step! Charlie, just... wait a sec—”
Charlie had already started moving confidently — in completely the wrong direction. His hand landed squarely in the potted ficus, and he froze.
“Why is this wall leafy?”
George leaned over to Ginny, whispering, “Charlie’s about to start photosynthesizing.”
“Okay, okay,” Harry muttered, starting to sweat. “Let’s regroup. Everyone stop. Bill, turn a little left. No — the other left. Wait—okay now Charlie turn, um... sort of diagonally?”
“Diagonally,” Charlie repeated flatly. “Great. Very exact.”
“Are we being guided by a nervous goose?” Bill added, still trying to shake the table leg he’d nearly tripped on.
Fred was nearly weeping. “Harry’s giving directions like he’s narrating a dream he barely remembers.”
“Alright,” Ron snorted, “Harry’s version of domming is just apologizing while asking everyone how they’re feeling.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Bill called out with mock cheer. “Just emotionally confused and vaguely bruised.”
“You’re doing great!” Harry insisted, trying to project something like confidence. “Now just—both of you—walk forward together. Slowly. Carefully. I believe in you.”
They bumped into each other halfway there, trying to sync up but clearly not synced at all.

“I feel like we’re being led by a very polite golden retriever,” Charlie muttered.
“Aww, he’s trying so hard,” Ginny cooed, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Harry, duck!” George shouted for no reason.
Startled, Harry ducked. Charlie tripped.
Bill walked straight into the armchair.
“Is this part of the plan?” Bill asked, peeling the blindfold halfway up.
“It’s a trust exercise!” Molly called cheerfully.
Fred nodded. “And an exercise in Harry slowly unraveling.”
Fred gave a mischevuous grin before flailing his hands out in front of him and spinning.

“Bill, wait—duck!” Harry yelped. But Bill believing it to be another false call stepped back right into Fred’s arms getting wacked in the nose in the process.
George was howling with laughter. “This is better than the scent game. He’s leading them like they’re ducks crossing a highway.”
Hermione, meanwhile, had successfully guided Percy to the kitchen doorway. “You’re all being mean,” she said, but she was smiling.
“Okay,” Harry said, focusing. “Bill, two steps left. Charlie, take a small hop forward. Not a big one. Small.”
Charlie hopped. And collided straight into Bill.
Both of them toppled sideways in slow motion, crashing into the armchair together like felled trees…

The room erupted in laughter.

Even Arthur trying to be supportive couldn’t help laughing into his tea which he had to quickly move due to Fred starting up his jellyfish fish impression.

“Ten points from Harry’s dom license,” Ginny announced.
“Negative five,” said Fred forgetting his blind fold all together. “He just sent two full-grown leaders into an accidental cuddle pile.”
From the floor, Bill’s voice was muffled. “I’m reconsidering my stance on ever coming home again.”
Harry helped them both up, red in the face. “Sorry—sorry! I really thought I had it that time!”

“Blindfolds back on boys!” Molly called out they both gave a long sighs finally, after several stops, three bruises, one stubbed toe, and a deeply apologetic hug from Harry mid-game, and somehow getting stuck in a cupboard? They reached the kitchen.

“You made it!” Harry beamed, breathless.
Bill and Charlie yanked their blindfolds off with exaggerated groans—but both were grinning.
“Not bad, captain,” Charlie said, ruffling Harry’s hair.
“Yeah, 10 out of 10 for kindness. 3 for navigation,” Bill added.
“I'll take it,” Harry laughed, red-faced.
Molly clapped. “Well done, all of you! Especially our newest dom.”
“Please never call me that again,” Harry whispered as the room burst into laughter.
Ginny leaned over to George. “Best game so far.”
George nodded. “And somehow no one caught fire. A win all round.”
Molly beamed. “Well done, Harry! A little unconventional, but you got them to the key spot in the end.”

“Did I?” Harry asked, uncertain.
“No,” Ginny said cheerfully. “But it was hilarious.”

Chapter Text

After a snack break—where Harry had eaten approximately five biscuits just to feel something—Arthur leaned over, eyeing his sons thoughtfully.
“You sure you’re okay, boys? I’ve got bruise paste if you need it.”
Charlie, stretching his arm with a wince, grinned. “All good, Dad.”
“Yeah, we’re okay,” Bill echoed, brushing crumbs off his jumper. “Bit bruised in the ego, maybe.”

Molly clucked sympathetically. “Ah, Harry, don’t worry. It’s hard when you first start domming, you’ll get there with a bit of practice.”

Harry, halfway through his sixth biscuit, nearly choked. “Um… Mr. Weasley,” he said quietly, tugging on Arthur’s sleeve, “I don’t think I’m going to be a… you know, a dom.”
Arthur leaned in and whispered back with a kind twinkle in his eye, “I know. And that’s okay. I think Molly just needs to have her little guess for now. You’ll surprise her later. Whatever you end up being, Harry, I’m here for you.”

Harry’s face lit up with a small, genuine smile.

Before he could respond, Molly clapped her hands. “Right, time for the next game!”
Groans and cheers filled the room in equal measure.

“Nest building!” she announced brightly. “This one you can work together on — it’s about comfort, safety, and a little friendly competition.”

“Who knows how to build a proper nest?” she asked, hands on hips.
Percy, Bill, and Charlie all raised their hands with a quiet sort of confidence. George hesitated, then stuck his hand up too, elbowing Fred.
“I have seen a documentary once,” Fred offered.
George muttered, “That was about otters, mate.”

Harry raised his hand slightly. “Um… Mrs. Weasley? What exactly is a nest?”
Oh Harry,” Ginny cooed, clapping her hands. “You sweet little clueless pup.”

“It’s a comfort thing,” Percy explained, already pulling a blanket off the back of the sofa and folding it just so. “Like building a space that makes you feel safe, protected. There’s a technique.”
George raised an eyebrow. “There’s technique to throwing pillows in a pile?”
Percy gave him a deeply offended look. “Yes.”
Charlie cracked his knuckles. “I had an entire unit on this in training. Thermoregulation, boundary marking, scent layering—”
“We’re not actually nesting like dragons, Charlie,” Fred cut in, snatching a cushion and immediately launching it at Ginny.
“Speak for yourself,” Bill said calmly, already arranging a corner of the room with military precision. “We’re winning this.”

Molly smiled brightly. “You can build wherever there’s floor space. Work together . The goal is to make the coziest, most emotionally inviting space.”
Harry blinked. “Emotionally… inviting?”
Hermione patted his shoulder. “Just imagine you’re building a blanket fort that says ‘I love you and also there are snacks.’”
“Oh,” Harry said, a little overwhelmed but starting to smile. “Okay. I can try that.”
Arthur gave him a gentle nudge. “No pressure, son. Just have fun with it. Though if you need more cushions, I have a stash upstairs.”
Molly clapped her hands again, bringing everyone’s attention back. “Alright, time to split into teams! You’ll be working together to build the coziest, safest nest you can.”

Harry looked around, heart pounding a little, and found himself ushered into a group with George, Charlie, and Bill.

George’s eyes sparkled. “Alright, Harry, this is going to be fun. You’re with the experts now.”
Charlie smirked. “Bill and I both know our way around nest building from our classes, so you’re in good hands. Plus, George here wants to learn all about caregiving, and building a nest is part of that.”
Bill gave Harry a friendly nod. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll show you how it’s done.”
Harry swallowed nervously. “Okay… I’m ready to try.”
George bounced on the balls of his feet. “Perfect! Nests are about comfort, safety, and making someone feel cared for. Like a physical hug.”
Charlie nodded seriously. “It’s also about scent layering — something that soothes and signals safety.”

Bill chimed in, “And structural integrity, so it holds together and doesn’t collapse on you.”
George rummaged through the pile of blankets, cushions, and fabric scraps.sensing Harry getting a bit overwhelmed George cut the task up into manageable steps for him “First things first — soft foundation. Harry, grab those jumpers over there. We’ll layer them.”
Harry carefully gathered some jumpers, laying them down as a soft base. Bill and Charlie moved with practiced ease, draping quilts and weaving scarves into the nest’s sides.
George watched Harry closely. “You’re doing great. Now, think about what would make you feel safe. Is there a scent or texture that helps?”
Harry blinked. “Maybe… something warm. Like an old sweater or… a worn-in blanket.”
Charlie smiled. “Exactly. Comfort is personal. We add a plush toy next — something familiar.”
Harry gently placed the battered dragon plushie he’d found earlier in the center of their nest.
Bill stepped back, inspecting their work. “Nice. Now, let’s make sure it’s enclosed enough to feel safe but open enough not to feel trapped.”
George carefully positioned some cushions like walls around the nest. “There! Like a little sanctuary.”Harry carefully eased himself down into the nest, the soft layers of blankets and cushions cradling him like a warm hug. As soon as he settled in, a comforting mix of scents—Charlie’s subtle caregiver pheromones, Bill’s faint campfire smell, and even a touch of George’s familiar musk—wrapped around him like a gentle wave.

His eyelids fluttered halfway shut. A dopey, blissful smile spread across his face. “Wow… this is… really nice.”
George nudged Charlie, whispering with a grin, “Looks like Harry’s gone scent-drunk again.”
Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, the nest is doing its job.”
Bill smirked. “Bet he’s not going anywhere for a while.”
Harry sighed contentedly, voice soft. “I feel like I’m floating on a cloud made of warm hugs and cozy sweaters.”

George laughed. “That’s our Harry — proof that nests and pheromones are a lethal combo.”
Bill ruffled Harry’s hair. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ve got you safe here.”
Harry’s smile grew even wider, eyes half-lidded. “Best… nest… ever.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow, amused. “You might want to claim it before George tries to kidnap it.”
Molly’s voice called out from across the room, “Five minutes left, teams! Time to finish up!”
Harry stayed, basking in the comfort — both physical and invisible “Okay… maybe domming isn’t my thing, but nests? I’m definitely on board.”

Percy crouched low, carefully weaving a sturdy frame out of couch cushions and blankets. “You need to support the sides firmly, or it’ll collapse as soon as someone sits down,” he explained, trying to keep the group on task.

Fred and Ron were busy throwing pillows at each other across the room, clearly ignoring his advice. “Come on, Percy, lighten up! It’s supposed to be fun, not a home improvement project,” Fred teased, dodging a pillow Ron tossed.
Hermione shot them a sharp look. “You two should listen to Percy. He actually knows what he’s doing.”

Ron shrugged but grinned. “Yeah, yeah. But where’s the fun in that?”
Hermione crossed her arms. “The fun is not having your ‘fort’ collapse the moment someone sits down.”

Meanwhile, Ginny was quietly building a neat, compact nest in the corner, layering soft blankets and fluffy pillows. It looked cozy, but it was definitely not big enough for the whole group.
She glanced over and caught Fred sprawled lazily on the floor, Ron still messing around.

“Why should I share my nest with you lot when none of you helped build it?” she said, folding her arms.
Fred laughed. “Well, you could have asked for help.”
Ginny smirked. “I figured if I did, you’d just mess it up anyway.”
Percy sighed, pausing his work to watch the mess. “If only they’d listen, we could all have a proper nest — one that actually holds together.”
Hermione nodded. “And maybe one big enough for everyone.”
Ron grinned. “Or maybe just one that won’t get taken over by Ginny’s ‘exclusive club.’”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Maybe if you’d stop treating it like a pillow fight zone, you’d get a spot.”
Fred threw a pillow up and caught it. “Challenge accepted.”
The room erupted into laughter and playful chaos, but Percy stayed focused, quietly finishing his part — the real foundation of the nest that would hold it all together.

“And time.” Arthur’s soft voice carried across the room, letting Molly take a much-needed break from directing the chaos.
He strolled over to Percy’s group, pausing to study their handiwork: a series of sturdy foundations with several tiny, individual nests clustered closely together like a little village of forts.
“What happened here?” he asked, amusement clear in his tone, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
Immediately, Percy, Fred, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all started talking at once—pointing, explaining, and defending their choices in an excited jumble of voices.
Arthur raised a hand to quiet them, and instantly, they all fell silent, eyes fixed on him.
“…Ah, I see.” He chuckled softly, the fondness in his voice unmistakable as he looked over the nests and the group. “You all worked hard, even if it wasn’t exactly teamwork.”
He glanced at Ginny’s smaller, cozier nest, then at the sprawling pillow chaos from Fred and Ron, and finally at Percy’s careful foundation work.
“Well done, everyone. Looks like you each built your own little corner to call home.”

Arthur patted Percy’s shoulder and moved on, weaving through the fluff-strewn hallway toward the second living room, where Harry’s group was finishing up.
As he stepped inside, he slowed—then blinked in surprise.
In the far corner, lit by the afternoon sun, stood one large, multi-layered nest. It was less of a “nest” and more of an architectural marvel made of cushions, quilts, and even a blanket-draped chair or two. There was clearly structure to it—zones for warmth, a hollowed space in the middle, even soft things tucked in around the edges.
George sat proudly just outside, brushing his hands together like a craftsman admiring his work.
Bill and Charlie were leaning against the arm of the sofa, both looking unusually relaxed, while Harry—Harry was curled in the middle of the nest with a dazed, blissed-out look on his face.
Arthur blinked again. “Oh,” he said, pleasantly startled. “Well.”
George grinned. “Welcome to the winning team, Dad.”
Charlie gave a slow nod. “Harry went a bit scent-drunk again when we added the last layer.”
Bill added, “He sort of drifted in mid-construction and hasn’t moved since.”
Arthur approached, crouching down beside the edge of the nest. “Harry?”
Harry, eyes half-lidded and content as a cat in a sunbeam, murmured, “It’s so soft in here.”
Arthur chuckled warmly. “Yes, it does look rather inviting.”
He stood, dusting off his knees, and looked between the three older boys. “This is excellent work. You’ve got insulation, comfort, emotional zoning… Is that a weighted blanket?”

blanket?”
“Of course,” said George, smug.
Arthur nodded appreciatively. “Very well thought out. And you all worked together?”
“We had a good leader,” Charlie said lightly, with a tilt of his head toward Harry.
Harry didn’t even hear him—he was already half-napping in the center of the nest.
Arthur smiled. “I think we’ll call this one… best in show. However, there is a problem you haven’t accounted for.”
George’s smug grin faltered. “Problem?”
Arthur nodded toward the center of the nest. “How are you going to get Harry out? It’s too comfortable.”

All three turned to look at the bundle in the middle: Harry, curled up with a pillow half-over his face, one hand lazily clutching the edge of a quilt. He was breathing slowly, deeply, practically purring. “Oh no,” Bill muttered. “He’s nested in.”
Charlie nudged George. “You’re the caregiver-in-training. Go on, get him out.”
George raised his hands. “Absolutely not. I’ve seen that look before. That’s deep comfort. That’s... ‘carry me or leave me for dead’ levels of relaxed.”
“Harry,” Charlie said gently, leaning down. “You all right in there?”
“Mhm,” came the muffled reply. “Don’t move me. I live here now.”
Arthur stifled a chuckle, lips twitching. “I’m not saying he has to come out. I’m just curious if you lot planned for the recovery phase.”
George rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Could lure him out with tea?”
“Or threaten to replace the blankets with itchy wool,” Bill offered.
“I’ll burn this whole nest to the ground,” Harry mumbled from within, eyes still closed. “Try me.”
Charlie laughed. “He’s fine. Just give him a minute.”
Arthur shook his head fondly. “Well, I’ll count it as a win… but you’re carrying him to dinner if he doesn’t move.”
George sighed. “Fair.”
Charlie flopped beside the nest’s edge with a grin. “Let’s just nest around him for a bit. He earned it.”

After around twenty minutes Harry finally felt his bones enough to leave but made them promise to build him another one later on.
Molly announced yet another game.

Chapter Text

Molly glanced at Harry’s group with a knowing smile. “Now, Percy, Charlie, Harry—you three will be making two bottles. Due to you’re experience in you’re caregiving programmes. You’ll also get to take turns caring for Harry, who’ll be blindfolded during the feed.”
Harry blinked, a little nervous but trusting.
Mrs. Weasley continued, “Percy and Charlie, because you both have some experience with caregiving, so I expect you’ll do brilliantly. Percy, I know you’ve done well in your caregiving courses—you wanted to be the best beta you could be, and this is your chance to show that.”
She turned to Charlie. “And Charlie, your caregiver instincts will really help keep Harry calm, especially since he’s a bit scared of the dark.”

Then, raising her voice slightly to gather everyone’s attention, she said, “You’ll each have a different role: one person will prepare the bottle without using their voice, another without sight, and the third without hearing. You’ll have to communicate carefully and work together.”
She smiled at the whole group. “Remember, this is about teamwork, patience, and care. Good luck, everyone!”

Fred lifted the small tin of powdered formula like it was a sacred artifact. Then, with a cheeky grin, he mimed the sound of a loud POWDER puff, puffing his cheeks out and making a big whooshing gesture. Hermione blinked, caught the joke, and rolled her eyes with a smile.

He shot Hermione a cheeky mime of a grin, which she didn’t see since she was focused on the instructions, lips moving silently as she read aloud.
“Fred, if you keep treating this like a prank, we’ll never get it right,” Hermione muttered, her brow furrowing.
“Oh come on, Hermione,” Fred whispered, with a sly wink. “A little fun makes everything better.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but kept scooping four scoops of the powder carefully into the bottle.
As fred turned to place the powder back he added three more scoops. Hermione glared at the disregard of the instructions.
Ron, blindfolded and humming loudly, wandered over, his socked feet tapping. “Is it ready yet? Is it soup? Is it dangerous?”
Fred shot a quick warning look, but before they could stop him, Ron stumbled right into the table.
“Oi, watch it!” Hermione snapped, stepping back just in time to avoid the bump, but the tin teetered in Fred’s hand.
Fred grinned mischievously, then ACHOO!
A cloud of powder exploded into the air, drifting everywhere — in Hermione’s hair, on Ron’s blindfold, across the floor.
“Fred! Seriously?!” Hermione hissed, coughing.
Fred shrugged, miming innocence. “Accidents happen!”
Ron sneezed loudly, swiping powder from his face. “It smells like baby in here!”
Hermione sighed, trying to keep calm. “We need precision, not powder explosions. Fred, can you just... focus?”
Fred pouted dramatically but lowered the tin and resumed scooping. Gaining an even worse look from Hermione who started trying to wrestle the scoop out of his hand
Ron, oblivious, shuffled closer, knocking the bottle nearly off the table.
“Ron! Back up!” Hermione ordered, but Ron just smiled and couldn’t stop the laugh barking out his throat.
Fred made a show of glaring, but then started chuckling.
Hermione’s lips twitched, but she scolded, “No giggling! Concentrate!” Before her own laugh bubbled out.
Minutes later, after multiple near spills and whispered bickering, Fred adding more powder and Hermione adding more watering they finally managed to get the powder and milk mixed. Fred gave it a vigorous shake — and the lid popped off, sending a small splash onto Hermione’s sleeve.
“Fred!” Hermione snapped, half amused, half exasperated.
Fred mimed ‘oops’ with a theatrical shrug.
Ron leaned in, blindfold askew, holding the bottle. “Is it ready yet? Guys?”
Hermione and Fred exchanged a look, then burst out laughing.
Fred gave Ron a mock salute, “Ready as it’ll ever be, mate.”
Ron took a sip, wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. That tastes like talcum powder in a bottle.”

Ginny stood with arms crossed, eyeing the bottle and powdered formula like it was a suspicious potion. Bill crouched down, calm and collected, while George bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly itching to turn this into some kind of prank.
“Okay, no messing about,” Ginny said firmly. “We actually have to get this right.”
George grinned mischievously. “Oh, Ginny, where’s the fun in that?”
Bill just smiled. “Let’s try to keep it clean, yeah?”
Ginny rolled her eyes and took charge. “Right, I’ll be the one who can’t hear. Bill, you’re blindfolded, George, you can’t talk.”
George groaned. “No voice? That’s harsh!”
Bill tied the blindfold on George with a smirk.
“Okay,” Ginny said, “George, I’ll try to mime what you need to do. Bill, you’ll guide the bottle and powder to George’s hands.”
George held his hands out, feeling his way.
“First,” Ginny mimed scooping powder — “carefully,” she emphasized with a pointed stare.
George tried to scoop, but ended up knocking over the tin. Powder puffed up in a cloud, covering his hands and the floor.

“George!” Ginny snapped, but there was a barely concealed smile on her face.
Bill laughed softly behind his hand. “George, you’re supposed to be the expert caregiver. Feeding isn’t just about snacks — it’s about bottles and patience too.”
George gave a sheepish shrug, still covered in powder.
Ginny folded her arms. “If you two don’t get this together, I’m not sharing my cake after.”
George shrugged and tried to mime a “Sorry!” but it came off as a silly dance move.
Bill finally grabbed the bottle and gave it a careful shake, but the lid popped off, spraying formula everywhere — including on Ginny’s shoe.
She looked down, then back up, deadpan. “Right. We’re definitely not sharing cake.”
George burst out laughing, holding his powder-covered hands up.
Bill shook his head, smiling. “Well, at least we tried.”
Ginny sighed but grinned. “Next round, I’m picking the team.”
George picked up the bottle and eyed it with suspicion. Then he took a sip “Ooo, that actually tastes really nice.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, taking a quick sip herself. “Oh yeah. Bill, why don’t you try it?”
Bill eyed them both with suspicion, but Ginny, an expert in brother manipulation, smiled sweetly. “Come on, Bill. You’re an alpha—you should know what every pack member drinks. What if I’m a little…”
Bill nodded in reluctant agreement and took a large gulp—then almost spat it out. “Eugh, that’s horrible! How do they eat that? George, you knew!”
“Of course I knew. I went through caregiving training,” George said with a shrug. “But I wasn’t going through it alone.”
“Wait—Ginny, you knew?”
“Of course I did,” Ginny said with a sly smile, “but you spilled it all over my shoe!”
Percy carefully measured the powdered formula, his hands steady and precise. Though he couldn’t speak, every motion was deliberate—he’d taken caregiving courses specifically so his beta status wouldn’t stop him from being the best pack member possible. He knew that real strength was in care as much as leadership.
Charlie, unable to hear the instructions, watched Percy closely, his sharp eyes catching every detail. He’d learned to read body language well, a skill that served him well as a caregiver. Harry sat blindfolded beside them, fingers trembling as he gripped the fabric, shadows of fear flickering behind his closed eyes.
“You’re doing great, Harry,” Charlie whispered gently, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re right here.”
Percy finished the first bottle and set it down carefully. Then, together, they prepared the second. While Percy worked on the second bottle’s formula, Charlie leaned close to Harry.
“Want to try holding the first bottle?” Charlie asked softly, guiding Harry’s hand to the cool surface.
Harry hesitated, then nodded. The blindfold made everything uncertain, but Charlie’s calm presence was a steady anchor.

When Percy handed Harry the first bottle, Charlie began quietly miming the feeding motions, his hands slow and gentle, so Harry could follow along.
Harry’s breathing steadied. “I’m scared of the dark,” he admitted quietly.
Charlie squeezed his shoulder. “That’s okay. You’re not alone. We’ve got you.”
Percy nodded silently in agreement, his eyes warm.
After Harry took a few sips, Charlie carefully took the bottle back and picked up the second one Percy had made. Now it was Percy’s turn to soothe Harry, guiding the bottle to his lips with careful hands.

Harry felt the weight of their care surround him, and for the first time in a while, the dark didn’t feel so scary.

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands twice to gather everyone’s attention, her eyes twinkling. “All right, my dears! One last game before we start winding things down.”
There were a few groans and scattered yawns—some of the younger ones already half-curled up in their pillow nests—but the promise of one more round perked them up.
“This one,” she said with a smile, “is called Go Fetch. And no, I don’t mean throwing a stick. You’ll be working in your teams to find a series of hidden items I’ve placed around the house. These are important things for your ‘pet’—treats, toys, a blanket, maybe even a squeaky bone or two.”
A few giggles rippled through the room.
“Now—here’s the twist,” she added, eyes twinkling. “You won’t all be able to talk. Or see. Or hear. Like before, you’ll need to communicate using other senses. Just like a real pet and caregiver must learn to understand one another.”
She walked over to a small basket of props and began handing them out. “Each team will choose a ‘pet’—someone who has to retrieve the objects. The rest of you will guide them using only body language and gestures. The pet may not speak. Some of you may have your hearing muffled or sight blocked, depending on your roles.”
She looked over at Team One. “Fred, Hermione, Ron—you’ll start in the kitchen. Your clues are under the teacup. Team Two—Percy, Charlie, Harry—you’ll be in the sitting room. Yours are tucked under the cushion by the fireplace. Team Three—Ginny, George, Bill—yours are in the hallway drawer.”

“Fuckk” Ginny quietly whinged I thought we’d get different groups
“Definitely not a little.” Fred muttered
She paused, then added, “And pets? You’ll need to retrieve three items and bring them back to your caregiver safely, without speaking a word.”
Fred immediately began miming dog ears. “Do I get a leash?”
“No,” Molly said flatly. “But you do get bonus points for grace and obedience.”
“Brilliant,” he muttered.
Harry looked a little anxious but Charlie gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, already falling easily into that calm, steady presence that made him such a good caregiver.
Mrs. Weasley raised her wand and the clock chimed gently behind her.
“Ready… set… fetch!”

The group gathered in the cozy den off the sitting room, plush rugs already scattered with props—squeaky toys, chew ropes, and colorful fabric trails. Fred flopped dramatically onto the floor, stretching out like a lounging lion.
“So, who’s the lucky mutt?” he asked, glancing between Hermione and Ron.
Ron shrugged. “Not it.”
Hermione gave Fred a look. “You're the one who volunteered.”
Fred smirked. “Only because I thought it meant wearing ears and being fed biscuits.”
“You just want an excuse to crawl around and cause chaos,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
Fred gave her a very toothy grin. “You wound me. I’m deeply professional in my animal roleplay.”
“Oh yes,” Hermione said dryly, arms folded. “I still haven’t forgotten your ‘polyjuice catastrophe’ commentary in third year.” Ron perked up and opened his mouth to mention Hermiones own previous feline problem before closing it just as fast at her look and shivering at her glare. “You were a cat for one hour and now you think you know all my instincts.’”
Fred waggled his eyebrows. “Whiskers change a man.”
Hermione exhaled a laugh despite herself. “I’m not commanding you, though.”
Fred cocked his head. “What, scared of the power?”
“No, it just feels... wrong. I don’t want to treat you like a dog.”
Fred gave a soft bark of laughter. “You say that now. Wait till I go bounding after the first clue and knock over Ron.”
Hermione’s expression softened. “Alright, but we’re doing this my way. Calm, clever, and with as little chaos as possible.”
Fred’s grin widened as he crouched on all fours. “Sure, sure. Calm. Clever. Minimal chaos. Just point me at the squeaky and let nature take its course.”
Ron was already backing toward the hallway. “I am not cleaning up after him.”

In the sunroom, where warm light filtered through gauzy curtains and scattered cushions littered the floor, the three siblings surveyed the props laid out before them—collars, toys, a rolled-up scroll of vague clue instructions, and a single red squeaky bone in the center like some enchanted relic.
Bill crossed his arms. “So, who’s going to be the pet?”
Ginny immediately raised an eyebrow. “Well, not you.”
Bill blinked. “Why not?”
“Because you're the oldest, the tallest, and an alpha. No one wants a pet who looks like he should be leading a war council.”
George nodded solemnly. “Plus, if you get on all fours, you’ll throw your back out.”
Bill gave a dramatic gasp of offense, but didn’t argue.
Ginny turned to George, a sly glint in her eyes. “That leaves you.”
George looked at the floor, then up at her. “Why do I feel like I’ve just walked into a trap?”
“Because you did,” Ginny said cheerfully, reaching for the collar. “Come on, you’re literally trained in caregiving. Time for a turn on the other end of the leash.”
“I don't recall this being part of my coursework,” George muttered.
Bill chuckled. “Consider it advanced empathy training.”
George stared at the collar and then the toy. “Just so we’re clear—if I win, I’m never letting either of you live this down.”
“Deal,” Ginny said, already slipping the collar gently into place. “Now be a good boy and heel.”
Bill groaned. “Merlin help us all.”

Harry knelt at the edge of the rug, fiddling with the soft collar Mrs. Weasley had handed him. Percy was already deep in the instructions, brow furrowed in concentration, and Charlie was crouched nearby, inspecting one of the hidden clue cards with a playful glint in his eye.
“Alright,” Percy said, his voice calm and focused. “One pet, two handlers, three toys, four clues. We need to bring back all the items using only non-verbal commands.”
Charlie leaned back on his heels. “So who’s taking the collar?”
“I can be the pet,” Harry said quickly. “Really. I don’t mind.”
Charlie looked over, surprised. “You sure? Thought you’d want to lead again.”
Harry flushed faintly. “After last time? When I led you and Bill into a literal cupboard and you both got stuck for fifteen minutes?”
Charlie laughed. “We called it a tactical pause.”
“I called it a disaster,” Harry muttered. “No, I’m happy to just… follow this time.”
Charlie softened. “Good. Then let me lead, yeah? You can rest.”
Harry nodded, something in his chest easing. He liked this—being allowed to let go. To not plan or direct. Just watching Charlie’s steady hands and Percy’s precise, methodical movements gave him something to anchor to. It felt… safe.
Percy nodded with a quiet kind of relief, already beginning to organize the clue cards and map out the play area with near military precision. Of course he would be the planner—he excelled at structure. He tapped the edge of the instruction sheet. “I’ll spot clues, decode riddles. I’ll back you up.”
Without looking up, he handed Harry a small squeaky toy. “You’ll be brilliant.”
“Just don’t expect me to bark,” Harry mumbled, cheeks pink as he curled onto the cushion.
Charlie smirked. “Only if you want to, pet.”
Harry rolled his eyes—but when Percy rang the bell and pointed toward the first target, he crawled off without hesitation nor minding it at all.

The hallway had gone oddly quiet—too quiet, considering three teams were currently crawling, sneaking, and signaling their way through the Weasley home in search of crinkly toys and chewable treasures.
Then:
Squeak.
Fred froze.
On all fours, he crept forward slowly, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the source—a bright green rubber bone, slightly chewed on one end, sitting innocently in the middle of the corridor rug. He was just about to pounce when—
Squeak.
George, also on all fours, turned the corner from the opposite direction.
Their eyes locked across the battlefield rug, both of them crouched, pupils wide, knees hovering just above the floor like feral house cats. A beat passed. Then they began slowly circling the bone, their shoulders twitching in perfect mirror.
Neither spoke. Neither blinked.
Fred narrowed his eyes. George raised a brow.
They both lunged an inch.
“George.”
The voice cut through the tension like a spell.
Ginny stood at the end of the hall, arms crossed, eyebrow arched. She wasn’t even looking at Fred. Just George. Calm. Commanding.
“Take it.”
George didn’t even hesitate. He reached forward, snatched the toy, and sat back obediently, blinking up at her with it in his hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Fred’s jaw dropped. “Oi—wait—”
Ginny gave him a pointed smirk. “You hesitated.”
Fred pointed wildly at George. “You’re the pet!”
George looked at the bone. Then at Fred. Then at Ginny.
“…Apparently,” he said, sounding vaguely horrified.
Ginny just gave his hair a fond ruffle. “Good boy.”
Fred was still sputtering when Percy rounded the corner, blindfolded, holding two rolled-up socks and mumbling, “I don’t think this is the blanket clue, but it’s textile adjacent…”

Without hesitation, George obeyed instantly, snatching the toy up in his mouth and trotting over like the perfect little guardian. Fred huffed, narrowing his eyes. Who’s the pet now, huh?
Then, Fred blinked—and froze.
“Wait... where did Hermione and Ron go?”
He glanced frantically around. His handlers—their voices, their guiding hands—had vanished. He was alone, a lone pet in the wild.
Fred’s grin slipped, replaced by mock horror.
“Oi! Handlers! Come back! I’m not just a dog out here, y’know!”
He tried to call out but remembered—no voice allowed.
He pawed at the floor in frustration, then mimed a dramatic fainting spell.
From across the room, Molly’s voice carried: “Fred! You’re losing points for being unattended! Get back to your handlers!”
Fred groaned inwardly but gave a theatrical salute toward where Hermione and Ron had disappeared.
“Lost the pack,” he mouthed silently, shaking his head, but a mischievous sparkle returned to his eyes. “Game on.”

Charlie crouched low, his voice calm and steady despite the quiet urgency in the game. “Alright, Harry, follow me slowly. We’ve got this.”
Harry, collar snug but comfortable, padded quietly on all fours behind him, eyes wide but trusting. Charlie’s hand hovered near Harry’s shoulder, ready to guide with a gentle touch if needed. The soft glow of the room helped ease the shadows, but Harry still clung to Charlie’s calm like a lifeline.
Percy moved beside them, scanning the hidden corners with sharp eyes. “Found something,” he whispered, pointing to one of the toys they were supposed to pick up tucked under a low cushion.
Charlie nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nice one, Percy.”
Percy carefully lifted the clue that came with the toy, eyes shining with quiet pride. Harry let out a soft little sound—half a sigh, half a smile—and crawled closer, his trust blooming.
Charlie reached down and gave Harry a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “See? You’re doing great.”
Percy’s gaze softened. “That’s how it’s done.”

Fred crouched low behind a stack of cushions, eyes flicking toward George’s group across the room. George was all business, listening intently to Ginny’s commands as they circled the play area like true pack members. Fred’s lips curled into a mischievous grin.
“If I’m gonna lose this, I’m gonna make it worth it,” he muttered silently, spotting a folded clue card sticking out from under a rug near George.
He darted forward on all fours, careful to stay low and quiet. Heart pounding with excitement, Fred reached out a hand and snagged the card just as George turned his head.
“Hey you can’t steal it!” George’s voice was low but sharp. Fred froze for a second, then grinned wider, realising that George would get penalised for talking he smirked clutching the clue.

Hermione tugged Ron gently by the sleeve, glancing back at where Fred was loudly in some sort of stand off goofing off with the others. “Come on, Ron. We don’t have to stick with Fred. He’s not exactly the best pet .”
Ron crossed his arms, still scowling from the earlier bottle disaster. “Yeah, no kidding. I’m not putting up with any more powder explosions or silly games. I’m done with that.”
Hermione gave a small, triumphant smile. “Exactly. Let’s find somewhere quiet and actually think this through.”
Ron nodded reluctantly but followed her. “You always do have a plan, don’t you?”
She smirked. “Someone’s got to be the brains around here.”
They slipped away from the noisy crowd and found themselves in a quiet corner of the garden, surrounded by soft grass and low shrubs.
Ron plopped down, kicking off his shoes. “So, what’s the plan, Hermione?”
She pulled out the instructions and started outlining the steps with clear focus. “We keep it simple. No distractions. I’ll be the leader, and you—”
“Will support you.” Said Ron with ho hesitation.
“Now if we just get all the clues and some of the toys I reckon we can win” Hermione knew this was her hill to die on fueld by determination.
Ron just nodded furled by Fred giving him the most powdery bottle ever and support for his best friend “okay what’s the clue?”

Hermione carefully unfolded the clue card, her eyes scanning the neat handwriting:
“Guardians small, with pointed hats,
Hiding where the green grass chats.
They stand in rows, both tall and few—
Find the ones who watch over you.”
Ron squinted, then smirked. “Gnomes. It’s got to be the garden gnomes.”
Hermione nodded, folding the clue away. “Exactly. Let’s head to the garden—and keep an eye out for those little sentinels.”

Hermione held up the clue card, reading aloud with a frown:
“Soft as clouds, but dark as night,
Sprinkle this to find the light.”
Ron crossed his arms, scowling. “Powder? We don’t need any of that mess again. Remember what happened last time?”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “That was Fred’s fault. This clue is important, Ron. We have to use whatever this is to find the next step.”
Ron shook his head stubbornly. “I say we don’t need it. We can figure it out without making another mess.”
Hermione stepped forward, determined. “No, Ron. We have to follow the clues exactly. Here—”
Before she could finish, Ron lunged for the small container they’d found nearby, and Hermione grabbed it at the same time. Their hands collided, knocking the lid loose.
A cloud of black powder exploded into the air, settling over the remnants of Fred’s earlier white powder, turning everything into a strange gray dust.
Ron sneezed loudly. “Great. Now it’s even worse.”
Hermione coughed, wiping her eyes. “Wait… this isn’t powder at all.” She bent down, scooping some up with her fingers and letting it fall slowly. “It’s just dirt. We got the clue wrong.”
Ron smirked sheepishly. “Told you we didn’t need the powder.”
Hermione sighed, trying not to laugh through the mess. “Well, at least it’s natural.”

Fred pushed off the fence and sauntered over, voice dripping with amusement. “Well, well, look at you two, all serious and bickering. Don’t you worry, I might just help myself to one of your precious clues. Wouldn’t want you to get ahead.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Fred, don’t even think about it.”
“Oh, but I am thinking about it,” Fred said, twirling an imaginary mustache. “Maybe I’ll sneak in, grab a clue, and see how you all handle a little chaos.”
“That’s enough, Fred!” George snapped, stepping forward, voice low but fierce. “You’re not going to sabotage us just because you’re bored.”
Fred’s grin only widened. “Bored? Me? Never. But it would be fun to watch you squirm.”
Bill stepped between them, raising his hands. “Fred, don’t push it. We don’t have time for your games.”
“Games?” Fred scoffed, voice rising. “This is a game, Bill. Or at least it was until you lot started acting all serious.”
Ginny’s jaw clenched. “We’re trying to win, Fred. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of causing trouble.”
Fred’s eyes flashed. “Or maybe I like winning my way — by making sure you don’t.”
Ginny folded her arms, watching him carefully. “Honestly, Fred, maybe your group deserted you because you were being—annoying,” she said, voice cool but firm.
George nodded in agreement. “Yeah, mate. You kinda pushed everyone away with all the chaos.”
Fred’s grin twisted into a sneer. “Oh, so I’m the problem? Maybe you lot were too soft.”
Bill stepped forward, trying to calm things down. “Fred, it’s not about soft or tough. We all want to win, but we need to work as a team.”
Fred’s eyes flicked toward the house, and he saw Hermione and Ron nearby, clearly listening. He called out, loud enough for them to hear, “And maybe your little escape act—leaving me alone—isn’t exactly teamwork either.”
Hermione bristled, stepping forward. “We didn’t leave you for no reason, Fred. You were making a mess.”
Ron, still annoyed, added, “Yeah, that powder explosion? Not exactly helping.”
Fred laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Mess? I was winning. You lot couldn’t keep up, so you ran off.”

As Percy, Charlie, and Harry quietly made their way through the maze-like garden, they passed by the other groups. Voices rose sharply—Fred and Hermione sparring over spilled powder, Ginny and George locked in a tug-of-war with a squeaky toy, and Bill trying to calm things down.Before they all started arguing with each other.
Harry flinched at the raised voices, his hands tightening on the collar around his neck. The sharpness of the arguing prickled an old ache—memories of nights spent in silence shattered by harsh yelling. His breathing quickened, panic flickering in his eyes.
Charlie noticed immediately and slid closer, placing a steady hand on Harry’s shoulder. His voice was soft, low, a calm anchor amid the storm. “Hey, Harry, you’re safe here. Just breathe with me, alright? We’ll get through this together.”
Percy stepped in beside them, nodding with quiet reassurance. “Focus on my voice if you need to. Ignore the noise.”
Harry blinked up at them, the panic ebbing slowly as Charlie guided him to take slow, deep breaths. Percy’s steady presence and Charlie’s gentle words built a bubble of calm around Harry, shielding him from the chaos.
“Let’s keep moving,” Charlie said softly. “One step at a time.”
Together, the three continued on, the noise fading into the background as they moved closer to their next clue.

From the shade of the kitchen window, Molly sipped her tea with a thoughtful hum while Arthur adjusted his notepad, squinting through his glasses at the garden scene unraveling before them.
"Is that… round five of that same argument?" Arthur asked mildly, jotting something down.
“Round six,” Molly corrected with a sigh. “Fred’s bringing up the powder again. And now Ron’s red in the face.”
Arthur chuckled. “Do we dock points for dramatic flair or add them?”
Molly gave him a pointed look. “You dock if it slows down progress. They’ve been circling the same clue for ten minutes.”
He glanced to the left, where Percy was crouched beside a bush, holding up a clue card while Harry padded back with a toy in his mouth, Charlie gesturing encouragement and miming a cheer.
“Now look at those three,” Arthur said, voice warm. “Quiet. Focused. Efficient.”
“They’re the tortoise,” Molly murmured, pleased. “Slow, steady, and absolutely going to win this race.”
Arthur made another tick on the sheet. “And all while the hares shout themselves hoarse.”
Molly sipped again, smiling. “Just wait till Percy cracks that riddle. Then we’ll see who’s laughing.”
They both winced as a fresh yell rang out from the gnome patch.
“Docking two,” Arthur muttered.
“Three,” Molly corrected sweetly

They crouched in the overgrown patch near the back hedge, the final clue card smudged with dirt and damp from Harry’s pawing. Charlie held it carefully while Harry nudged his knee, waiting.
“Four legs at dawn, two at noon, three by night,” Charlie read aloud, scratching his chin. “We’ve heard this before, right?”
“It’s that old riddle,” Harry murmured. “Man, or something.”
But Percy was already kneeling beside them, brow furrowed, lips moving silently. He traced the words on the card with one finger, then flipped it over—his eyes lit up.
“There’s more,” he whispered, pointing to faint embossing on the back. “It’s layered. A riddle on a riddle.”
Charlie raised a brow. “Alright, professor. What’s it say?”
Percy didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he held up one hand for silence, then placed the card flat against the grass. He aligned the crease with the shadow of the sundial nearby—Harry’s blindfold had been lifted for the break, but he stayed close, fingers brushing the grass, listening carefully.
Percy inhaled, then spoke clearly. “It’s not about time. It’s about roles. The riddle’s telling us who leads when.”
Charlie blinked. “What, like… the ‘legs’ are metaphorical?”
Percy nodded. “Yes. Four legs—Harry crawling as the pet. Two—us walking and guiding. Three—when we all come together, one guiding, one watching, one following. Stability.”
There was a beat of silence.
“That’s… weirdly beautiful,” Harry said softly.
Charlie grinned. “And also means the last clue’s under the tripod.” He pointed to a wooden camera stand nearby, barely noticed before. “Nice work, Perce.”
Percy looked modestly pleased as he retrieved the final toy from beneath it. “Just good at patterns,” he said simply.
But Harry leaned his head against Percy’s shoulder for a second. “No. You’re good at being steady.”
Charlie ruffled Percy’s hair. “Come on then, tortoise—let’s win this.”

After a few rounds of arguments they decided to separate as groups or rather storm off in the general directions of their original groups.
Ron stormed ahead down the garden path, muttering, “I told you the clue wasn’t about powder—bloody dirt in my hair for nothing.”
“You also said the gnome hole was a ‘strategic shortcut,’” Hermione snapped, brushing clumps of dried mud off her jeans. “We got stuck for fifteen minutes in a gooseberry bush.”
Fred trailed behind them, scowling, arms crossed and completely powder-dusted from the earlier mishap. “Maybe if either of you had stuck with me like you were meant to—oh wait, that’s right. You both legged it the second it got hard.”
Ron whirled. “We legged it? You were trying to eat the clue!”
“It looked edible!” Fred barked, but there was a tired edge to his voice.
They turned the corner—right into Ginny, George, and Bill resetting their own clue station near the orchard trees.

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Ginny said coolly, arms folded. “Did you finish imploding, or are we interrupting?”
Fred’s jaw tightened. “Least my team doesn’t boss me around like I’m their pet project.”
“You are the pet, Fred,” George quipped, tossing a squeaky toy from hand to hand. “That was literally your job.”
“And you didn’t even do it,” Ginny added. “Your team ditched you because you were unbearable.”
Fred flinched.
“Alright,” Bill’s voice cut in, sharp and low, rubbing his temples. “Enough. Everyone’s grumpy. Everyone’s tired. Fred—don’t take it out on them just because your team fell apart. And you two—” he looked at Ginny and George, “don’t pour salt just because it’s fun.”
Ginny opened her mouth, but he raised a hand.
“I’m not the one who went rogue!” Fred shouted, stepping forward. “Maybe if my team hadn’t ditched me, I wouldn’t’ve had to scavenge for clues like a bloody raccoon!”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “We ditched you because you wouldn’t stop trying to sabotage us!”
“Oh, come off it—sabotage is a strong word. I call it strategic disruption!”
George snorted. “You call everything that.”
Hermione now looking at Ron sassed “Maybe if someone had read the clue properly—”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Fred exploded, hands flying. “Maybe if someone hadn’t decided to be a one-witch show—”
“ENOUGH!” Bill barked.
The silence that fell was immediate.
Bill stood tall in the middle of the garden path, eyes dark, chest heaving just once. Then his jaw clenched, and he visibly rolled his shoulders down, breathing hard through his nose.
“…Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to shout. Not around pups.”
No one spoke for a beat.

He ran a hand down his face. “I’m too old and too alpha to referee another garden meltdown,” he muttered, stepping past them toward a shaded log. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting over there. Quietly. Questioning all of my life choices.”
George raised his brows as the tension slipped a little. “Yikes. Bill’s in pre-rut.”
Ginny sighed. “Or just in the middle of a breakdown.”
Fred, still powdered and tense, huffed but didn’t speak again.
Off to the side, Ron looked over at Hermione. “…I liked it better when we were just fighting each other.”
Fred kicked a clump of grass, still powdered and glaring. “Brilliant. Even the responsible one’s quitting now.”
Ron and Hermione had already wandered a few paces away again, still bickering under their breath.
Ginny sighed. “It’s like babysitting a sack of cats.”

The afternoon sun had dipped low enough to cast golden streaks across the garden, and Harry was beginning to feel the weight of the collar and the crawl on his knees. He had no idea how pets did it Still, he pressed forward as Percy held up the final clue card with a triumphant little flick of his fingers.
Charlie squinted over Percy’s shoulder. “Okay… ‘Where sun once shone and now retreats, the final squeak lies at your feet.’”
“Shadow,” Percy signed with a tap to his own feet, then pointed to the gnarled oak near the back of the garden. Its shade stretched long now, a dark pool across the grass.
Harry perked up, tail (well, scarf) twitching behind him as Charlie gestured gently toward the tree. “Go on, pup,” he said with a smile. “You’ve got this.”
Harry crawled, heart fluttering—not with nerves this time, but anticipation. He felt safe here. Guided. He reached the tree and pawed gently around the roots.
A faint squeak.
Then another.
His fingers closed around a small stuffed wolf toy, half buried in leaves. He pulled it free and looked back, grinning.
Charlie whooped. Percy actually clapped—once—and then quickly tucked his hands behind his back, like he hadn’t just done that.
Harry jogged back on hands and knees, holding up the toy like a prize.
“We found it!” he said, beaming.
Percy gave him a rare, sincere thumbs up. Charlie ruffled his hair, voice warm. “Told you. You make a great pet.”
Harry didn’t even mind the blush on his cheeks. Not this time.

The trio made their way back across the lawn, Harry cradling the squeaky wolf toy like a trophy, Percy walking with purposeful strides, and Charlie just behind, hands in his pockets, grin easy.
The garden had grown quieter. The shouting from earlier had faded into sulky muttering somewhere near the gnome mound, and a few of the other teams sat scattered across the grass, powder-streaked and exhausted.

Molly looked up from her clipboard as they approached. Arthur adjusted his glasses and smiled warmly.

“All done?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow at the toy in Harry’s arms.
Harry nodded. “Last clue. Last item.”
Percy handed over the now-complete clue sheet, perfectly filled in, in his neat handwriting. Charlie added a gentle, “He even fetched the last one himself.”
Molly gave an approving hum as she flicked through the sheet. “Non-verbal cues… all tasks completed… zero raised voices… no garden destruction…”
Arthur leaned over to whisper, “Slow and steady, Molly.”
“Exactly,” she said, ticking a box with finality. “Tortoise and hare.”
Charlie glanced at the others still bickering near the hedge. “Plenty of hares out today.”

Percy gave a small, satisfied nod. He didn’t need a medal. Just the quiet understanding that they had done it right.
“Looks like we have a winning team,” Molly said with a proud smile. “Well done, boys.”
Harry blinked. “Wait—seriously? We won?”
“You won,” Arthur confirmed, chuckling.
Harry sat down heavily in the grass, stunned. Charlie plopped beside him with a gentle thump, and Percy—uncharacteristically—allowed himself to look quietly pleased.
They didn’t cheer. They didn’t boast. They just smiled at one another, content in their calm little victory.

“Can we, um…” Harry started, voice small.
Charlie turned to him immediately. “What’s up?”
Percy had already turned too, giving Harry a steady look, not pushing—just watching, listening, present. Harry took a breath, bolstered by their attention.
“Can we maybe… go in the nest?”
Charlie’s expression softened completely, and he gave a small nod. “Yeah, of course we can.”
Percy tilted his head, then offered a reassuring smile. “I’ll grab the blanket.”
Harry let out a quiet breath of relief.

Within moments, the three of them were curled up together—Harry lying on his side between them, wrapped loosely in the blanket Percy had brought back, Charlie’s hand resting lightly over his forearm, thumb moving in slow circles.
“I like it here,” Harry murmured.
“We know,” Charlie said quietly.
“And you’re allowed,” Percy added, voice low and sure. “You don’t need to do anything else.”
Harry blinked slowly, the sounds of the louder groups far behind them now. In this small circle, it was quiet. Safe.

The garden was quieter now, the fight having fizzled into sulking. Fred was tossing a stick from hand to hand, Ron was kicking at a clump of dirt, and Hermione was pacing in tight circles with powder still dusting her trousers. On the other side of the gnome patch, Ginny and George sat on the overturned wheelbarrow, not speaking, arms crossed in perfect mirror.
Bill stood slightly apart, hands on hips, brow furrowed like he was still processing everything—or trying very hard not to process anything at all.
The back door creaked open. Molly stepped out first, Arthur right behind her.
“Well then,” Molly said brightly but firmly, “you’ll all be relieved to know the final game has ended.”
“Wait, already?” Ron asked, straightening. “We weren’t even back yet!”
“Exactly,” Arthur said mildly. “Team Three returned a full fifteen minutes ago. Calm, coordinated, and with all items retrieved.”
Fred let out a low whistle. “Let me guess—Percy, Charlie, and Harry?”
Arthur nodded. “Indeed. Thoughtful, strategic, and not a single powder explosion between them.”
Ginny gave a dry snort. “Good for them.”
Molly clapped her hands. “Now, I suggest you all take a moment to breathe. You’ve had your scraps, but that’s what these games are for. Learning. Laughing. Making up.”
She gave them all a firm, fond look before retreating inside with a mutter about lemonade.

Arthur lingered.
Bill had turned away slightly, pretending to adjust his rolled sleeves. Arthur stepped beside him.
“She’s right, you know,” Arthur said quietly. “No one came here expecting perfection.”
Bill gave a short exhale through his nose. “I just… I shouldn’t have yelled. Not near Harry. Not when I know what that’s like for him.”his chest tight so tight he struggled around something lodged in his throat.

Arthur stepped up beside him, quiet but present. The garden’s noise faded into background hum.
“I growled at him,” Bill said, voice low.
Arthur glanced at him. “This morning?”
Bill nodded. “We were talking about classes and I just—reacted. Forgot he was just a pup.Forgot he was Harry.” He let out a sharp breath. “He flinched. I made Harry flinch.He…was shaking.”
Arthur was quiet for a moment, the weight of Bill’s words settling in.
“I didn’t mean to,” Bill went on, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance. “I just… wasn’t thinking. I hate that I did that.”
Arthur laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “And I know you hate it because you care. That’s what makes the difference.”
Bill’s jaw tightened.
“You’re a good alpha, Bill,” Arthur said gently. “Not because you never lose your temper—but because you see the impact. And you do better.”
Bill nodded slowly, throat tight.
“Besides,” Arthur added with a soft smile, “Harry asked to curl up in the nest in the nest you helped make with your scent. With Charlie and Percy, yes—but he wouldn’t have done that if he felt unsafe. He knows you care.”
That finally cracked something in Bill’s expression. A hint of relief. A bit of warmth returning to his eyes.
From across the garden, Fred shouted, “Oi! Do we get points off for emotional growth or just powder damage?”
Arthur chuckled. “Go on, alpha. Your pack’s waiting.”
From across the garden, Fred called out, “So… truce then? Or are we fighting over gnome territory again?”
Ginny rolled her eyes, but hopped down from the wheelbarrow.
George clapped Ron on the back with a grin. “Let’s call it a draw. Powder incidents on both sides.”
Slowly, reluctantly, the two groups edged together.
Bill gave Arthur a look of thanks and turned toward them, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Alright. Who wants to help me find the real last clue?”

Harry lay dozing in the nest, breathing slow and even, his face peaceful in the dim light.
Percy glanced over at Charlie, a hint of concern in his voice. “He’s not an alpha.”
Charlie met Percy’s gaze, nodding quietly. “I know.”
“Everyone expects him to be an alpha,” Percy added quietly.
Charlie rubbed Harry’s back gently. “I know.”

Percy hesitated, then asked, “What is… ?” Harry opened his eyes snuggling into Percy
and with a sly grin, he said, “Not a dom, that’s for sure.”
Percy smiled softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be.”
Charlie chuckled quietly, his hand still steady on Harry’s back. “Yeah, sometimes the strongest ones aren’t the leaders. They’re the ones who keep the pack together.”
Harry’s grin grew wider as he nestled closer. “Good. Because following suits me just fine.”

The long wooden table was warmly lit by flickering candles, casting a cozy glow over the gathered group. Plates clinked softly as everyone settled into their seats, the earlier tensions all but forgotten.
Ginny passed a dish of roasted vegetables to Fred, who shot her a grateful smile. Bill, relaxed for the first time all day, leaned back and chuckled quietly at something Percy had just said. Hermione and Ron exchanged a quiet, contented glance across the table, their earlier bickering now just a distant memory. Charlie sat beside Harry, who looked more at ease than anyone had seen him in days, a soft smile playing on his lips. Charlie helping him wipe his mouth free of sauce. Percy poured himself a glass of water, glancing around the table and feeling a swell of pride at how far they’d all come. Molly and Arthur stood at the head of the table, sharing a look of satisfaction. “I think we might just have the best team ever,” Molly said softly.
Arthur nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Tortoise and hare, through and through.”
Laughter bubbled up as the group dug into their meal, the warm hum of friendship and forgiveness filling the room like the scent of the evening’s feast.