The Burrow was unusually quiet—a rare and fleeting occurrence in the Weasley household. Mrs. Weasley sat at the kitchen table, savoring her morning cup of tea. She relished these rare moments of calm before the chaos of waking up the entire house. The Quidditch World Cup awaited, and all seven of her children were home, along with a handful of friends.
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were, of course, among the visitors. Mrs. Weasley had been thrilled when Ron formed such close bonds with the pair, considering them almost like her own children. But there was a third guest at the Burrow, one who already felt like family in a deeper way.
Brooklyn Mclair had been a fixture in the Weasleys' lives since her second year at Hogwarts. She was Fred and George's inseparable best friend, and though Mrs. Weasley sometimes questioned the twins' antics, she had a soft spot for Brooklyn. Tall and striking, with a mane of golden curls and bright green eyes, Brooklyn's looks caught attention, but it was her quick wit and charm that made her unforgettable. A Gryffindor Chaser, prefect, and budding strategist, she had an uncanny ability to keep the twins grounded while simultaneously fueling their mischief.
Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but hope that one of her sons might someday marry Brooklyn and make her a true part of the family. She had already endured more than her fair share of heartache—her father's imprisonment in Azkaban for the murder of her mother had left Brooklyn to live with her siblings at her strict, pure-blood grandparents' home. Brooklyn herself had opted to move in with the Weasleys during holidays, finding warmth and love here that her grandparents couldn't provide. She often talked of her plans to take custody of her siblings once she turned 17 and finished school.
A creak on the staircase pulled Mrs. Weasley from her musings. She listened closely, identifying the quiet, nimble steps descending from the second floor. Not Bill or Charlie, she mused. Not Percy, either; his steps are always precise and clipped. Too light to be Ron or Harry. Too steady to be the twins. And too quick for Ginny or Hermione. That left one possibility.
Moments later, Brooklyn appeared in the doorway, her golden curls bouncing as she offered a cheery "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley!"
"Good morning, love," Mrs. Weasley replied warmly, watching as the girl moved to fix herself a cup of tea. Brooklyn was a natural fit here. She was tall—nearly six feet—and built like a true athlete, her muscular frame softened by curves that gave her a striking presence. Despite her ability to blend into the chaos of the Burrow, Brooklyn radiated an undeniable aura of capability and grace.
"Shall I start breakfast?" Brooklyn asked, interrupting Mrs. Weasley's quiet assessment.
"Oh no, dear, I can manage that in no time. But if you wouldn't mind waking the others, I'd be grateful. We've a schedule to keep."
Brooklyn nodded, already moving toward the stairs with an easy smile. The sun streamed through the kitchen window as she made her way up, casting the house in a golden glow. She approached the second-floor landing and hesitated at Charlie's door. She pushed it open gently, noting the Quidditch posters and dragon sketches decorating the walls.
"Charlie," she said softly, shaking his shoulder. "Your mum says to wake up."
Charlie groaned and burrowed deeper into the covers. Brooklyn smirked but let him be—he wasn't her target for morning mischief.
She slipped into Bill's room next, where clutter covered nearly every surface. She carefully stepped over discarded robes and an abandoned broomstick before reaching the bed. "Bill, your mum said if you don't get up, she'll cut your hair."
That worked. Bill bolted upright, clutching his long hair. "She wouldn't!"
Brooklyn shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But you'll miss breakfast and the match if you don't hurry."
"Fair enough. Now get out, you menace," Bill grumbled, but there was a grin on his face as Brooklyn laughed her way out.
Skipping Percy entirely—he was the twins' problem—Brooklyn made her way to her shared room with Ginny. Hermione was already sitting up on her cot, reading. Ginny, on the other hand, was sprawled across her bed, snoring lightly.
"Hermione, can you wake Ron and Harry?" Brooklyn asked. Hermione nodded, marking her place in her book as Ginny jolted awake, shrieking, "It's World Cup day!"
Brooklyn laughed and made her way to the twins' room. She barely opened the door before being yanked inside, nose to nose with Fred. His mischievous grin told her everything.
"What'd you do?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.
"Profit!" George called from across the room.
Brooklyn crossed her arms. "A bet, then. World Cup related, I assume?"
The twins exchanged confused looks. "How did you know?" they asked in unison, their identical expressions of surprise almost comical.
Brooklyn rolled her eyes, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Think, you two. It's the Quidditch World Cup today, and you've both been itching for a way to make money. Obviously, it's either a bet or blackmail." Her tone was dry, but her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile.
Fred blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Blimey, Brookie, you're good."
"Just observant," she replied with a sigh, brushing off the nickname with a practiced air. "Anyway, your mum's made breakfast, and Hermione's waking up Ron and Harry as we speak. If you don't hurry, there won't be anything left."
The twins scrambled for their knapsacks, their hurried movements eliciting a chuckle from Brooklyn. As she turned to leave, she paused in the doorway, glancing back with a mischievous glint in her green eyes. "Oh, by the way, can you wake Percy for me?"
Fred and George froze mid-motion, exchanging wicked grins that spoke volumes.
Brooklyn didn't wait for a response, heading downstairs with a lightness in her step. Moments later, muffled shouts and the unmistakable sound of laughter echoed from upstairs. She grinned, shaking her head. The chaos was comforting. This was the family she'd always dreamed of.
The group gathered not long after, Mrs. Weasley seeing them off with strict instructions to stay together. Charlie and Percy had gone ahead earlier, leaving the younger ones to walk to the portkey site. Mr. Weasley led the way, Ginny and Hermione close behind him, while Ron and Harry animatedly discussed the star players.
At the back of the group, the twins and Brooklyn lagged slightly, heads bent close in conspiratorial whispers. Brooklyn held a notebook in one hand, its pages filled with scribbled notes, Quidditch diagrams, and calculations.
"Right," she began, tapping the page with her quill, "Ireland's chasers are unbeatable, but their seeker's no match for Krum. The most likely outcome? Krum catches the Snitch, but Ireland still wins on points. It's simple math."
Fred's eyes lit up with excitement. "So, if we bet Bagman on this…"
Brooklyn grinned, finishing the thought. "He'll take it. No way he's done the calculations. He'll think it's a long shot."
The twins exchanged a triumphant high-five, Fred pulling Brooklyn into a spontaneous hug. "Brookie, you're brilliant!"
"Of course I am," Brooklyn quipped, her laughter mingling with theirs as they trudged along the path.
When they arrived at the hill, a familiar figure awaited them.
"Amos!" Mr. Weasley called, striding forward to greet his friend with a hearty handshake.
"Arthur! Good to see you," Amos Diggory replied warmly before glancing at the gaggle of teenagers. Adjusting his glasses, he added in astonishment, "Good lord, are all these yours?"
Arthur laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "No, no. Just the redheads—and Brooklyn here," he said, motioning toward her. "The other two are friends of my son Ron."
Brooklyn flushed slightly at being included in such a familial way, an affectionate elbow from Fred only deepening her embarrassment.
Amos turned his attention to Harry, his face lighting up. "Harry? Harry Potter? My son beat you in Quidditch last year! Told him that'll be a story for his grandkids!"
Harry shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as Cedric dropped gracefully out of a nearby tree.
"Dad, stop," Cedric said with a slight frown. "It wasn't a fair match. Harry fell off his broom."
Brooklyn and the twins exchanged dark looks, their pride still smarting from Gryffindor's loss. Cedric offered a polite smile in Brooklyn's direction, but she didn't notice, too busy glaring at a distant tree. Fred, however, did notice—and his expression soured considerably.
As the group gathered around the battered old boot serving as their portkey, Brooklyn found herself wedged between George and Cedric. Cedric offered her another warm smile, which went unnoticed as she elbowed George, who was poking her with his free hand.
When the portkey activated, the world spun violently, and the group was hurled through space. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric landed gracefully, but the teenagers collapsed in a tangled heap. Brooklyn groaned as she realized she'd landed nose-to-nose with George.
Both of them turned bright red, scrambling to their feet with hurried apologies. Fred snickered loudly, earning a glare from Brooklyn.
When the group finally looked up, they were greeted by a sprawling green field teeming with wizards and witches. The air buzzed with excitement, fireworks bursting overhead as the scent of roasted food wafted through the air.
The Quidditch World Cup was finally underway.