Chapter 31: A Weasley Summer
The sun hung high over the Burrow, casting golden light over the sprawling fields where the Weasley children, Harry, and Daphne had set up for an afternoon game of Quidditch. The summer had settled into an easy rhythm—days filled with laughter, games, and the warmth of a family that had unconditionally welcomed both Harry and Daphne.
Molly Weasley had made it clear from the start: Harry and Daphne were as good as her own while they stayed under her roof. That meant full plates at every meal, firm scoldings when needed, and a kind of care that neither of them had experienced before. Daphne, who had spent years guarding herself against displays of affection, was slowly learning to accept Molly's motherly fussing, even if it flustered her. And Harry—well, for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere.
Letters from Hermione came regularly, filled with updates about her summer and relentless reminders for Harry and Daphne to stay out of trouble. She was due to meet them in Diagon Alley soon, and Harry was already bracing for the inevitable lectures.
But today was a day for flying.
Fred and George had set up an impromptu match in the field behind the house. With six players, they settled on three-on-three: Harry, Daphne, and Ron against the twins and Ginny. The goalposts were makeshift—just a few tall sticks charmed to hover in place—but the excitement in the air was real.
As soon as they kicked off, it was obvious to everyone watching that Harry and Daphne played on a level of their own.
Daphne flew like she was born to be in the air. She was second only to Harry in sheer skill, but where he had honed his talent through Quidditch, she had trained for precision and speed, her maneuvers sharp and controlled. The way they moved together was almost eerie—anticipating each other's plays before they even happened, darting through the sky in seamless coordination.
At one point, Harry looped low to intercept a pass from George, only for Daphne to cut across his path at the last second, catching the Quaffle mid-air and rolling into a perfect dive to score past Ginny.
"How do you two do that?" Ron huffed, looking between them suspiciously.
"No idea," Harry admitted, though he had a feeling their bond played a role in it.
Daphne just smirked. "Natural talent."
The twins weren't going to let them show off without a fight. Fred sent a Bludger hurtling toward Daphne, but she rolled out of the way effortlessly, passing the Quaffle back to Harry, who executed a dizzying corkscrew to dodge George's defense.
"Alright, you two are ridiculous," Ginny called out, shaking her head.
By the time the game ended—Harry's team narrowly claiming victory—everyone was sweaty, winded, and grinning.
Molly's voice rang out from the house. "Lunch is ready!"
As they landed and made their way inside, the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore approached from the garden path. In his hands, he carried several official-looking parchments, and his eyes twinkled knowingly.
"It seems I've arrived just in time," he said pleasantly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
The Weasley kitchen bustled with warmth and laughter as everyone gathered around the long wooden table. The smell of freshly baked bread, roasted chicken, and rich gravy filled the air, making even the most distracted among them focus on their plates. Molly Weasley had outdone herself, as always, ensuring that no one would leave the table anything less than completely full.
Dumbledore, having been thoroughly convinced by Molly that he would not be allowed to leave without at least a full meal, sat comfortably between Charlie and Bill. The older Weasley siblings had returned home for the afternoon, making the house even livelier than usual.
Ron reached for a second helping of mashed potatoes, narrowly avoiding Fred's attempt to swipe his roll. Ginny, seated near Harry, was unusually quiet but content as she ate, occasionally glancing at him. George, meanwhile, leaned across the table toward Daphne, an inquisitive look in his eyes.
"So, what do you reckon, Greengrass?" he asked casually, scooping some more chicken onto his plate. "Now that you're stuck with us, you planning to give up the whole 'icy Slytherin' thing, or is that permanent?"
Daphne arched an eyebrow, spearing a bite of vegetables with slow deliberation. "I'll have you know I was never icy," she said, her voice carrying just a hint of amusement.
"Didn't you tell us that you hexed Montague in the common room for breathing too loudly," Ron pointed out.
"He was breathing loudly," she replied matter-of-factly, earning a laugh from Bill.
"I like her," Charlie said with a grin. "She's got fire."
"Just don't let her and Harry team up on the Quidditch pitch," Fred muttered. "The two of them together are borderline unfair. Its too bad that your not in Gryffindor we would be unstoppable with you two on the team."
"Oh, come on, mate," Ron said through a mouthful of food. "It's not like we're gonna complain if Gryffindor crushes Slytherin this year."
That earned a snort from Bill, who looked over at Daphne. "You really are that good, then?"
Daphne gave a small shrug. "I hold my own," she said, though her confidence was unmistakable.
Harry, seated beside her, smirked slightly. "She's being modest. We played earlier, and she was practically reading my mind mid-flight."
Molly, having been listening quietly with a warm smile, patted Daphne's arm. "Well, I'm just glad you two are here. And as long as you're under my roof, you'll be treated as one of my own."
Dumbledore, having listened to the conversation with quiet amusement, finally cleared his throat and produced several neatly rolled parchments from his robes, placing them on the table.
"These," he announced, "are your school supply lists for the coming year. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but I do recommend getting your books sooner rather than later—Diagon Alley tends to become quite chaotic as September approaches."
Ron groaned. "We just got out of school, and now we're already talking about going back?"
"Oh, come off it," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You get to fly again, don't you?"
At that, Ron brightened a little, though he tried not to look too eager.
Dumbledore then pulled out another set of documents, this time sliding them toward Harry and Daphne.
"And these," he said, his tone more serious, "are formal arrangements declaring you both as charges of Hogwarts. As neither of you currently have a legal guardian responsible for your well-being, this will ensure that you both have a place at school and accommodations during breaks if necessary."
The table quieted slightly at that. It was one thing for everyone to know what had happened, but to see it laid out in official parchment made it all the more real.
Harry looked at the papers, swallowing down the odd lump in his throat. He had known this was coming, but seeing it in writing—that he was, officially, free from the Dursleys—sent a wave of conflicting emotions through him. Daphne, too, examined the parchment carefully before nodding her thanks to the headmaster.
"Rest assured," Dumbledore added with a small smile, "Hogwarts will always be your home."
Molly beamed at that, nodding approvingly. "Well said, Headmaster."
Lunch carried on with lighter conversation, talk of upcoming school plans, Fred and George devising new pranks for the term, and Ginny eagerly talking about finally starting Hogwarts herself.
As plates were cleared and Dumbledore finally stood to take his leave, Daphne rose as well.
"Headmaster," she said, quieter than usual. "May I have a word? In private."
Dumbledore studied her for a moment, then nodded, gesturing for her to follow him out into the garden.
They stood beneath the shade of an old oak tree, the afternoon breeze stirring the grass around them.
Daphne didn't hesitate. "I'd like to be resorted."
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, watching her. "I see," he murmured. "And why is that?"
Daphne inhaled deeply, glancing toward the Burrow, where laughter still rang from the open windows. "Slytherin was never really my choice," she admitted. "I was sorted there because of my bloodline, my fathers expectations. But I reject nearly everything they stood for. And after everything that's happened, I know I can't stay."
Dumbledore observed her carefully, his piercing blue eyes twinkling with understanding. "The Sorting Hat's decisions are not immutable," he mused. "It considers who you are at the time—but people change. You have changed."
She nodded firmly. "I want to be in a house that reflects who I really am. Somewhere I can stand beside the people I care about without feeling like I'm constantly being pulled in two directions."
Dumbledore smiled. "Very well. At the start of term, after the first-years have been sorted, I will call you forward for a re-sorting. You will find your true place then."
Relief flooded Daphne's expression, and she inclined her head. "Thank you, Headmaster."
Dumbledore nodded and made his way toward the front of the house, leaving Daphne standing beneath the tree, the weight of uncertainty finally beginning to lift.
Back inside, Harry was leaning against the doorframe when she stepped through, an envelope in his hand.
"You got a letter," he said, holding it out. "It's from Astoria."
Daphne's breath caught. She took the letter carefully, running her fingers over the familiar handwriting. For a moment, she hesitated, as if afraid of what she might find inside.
Harry didn't say anything, but his steady presence beside her was enough.
Slowly, she broke the seal, allowing herself—just for a moment—to hope.
Daphne stood in the doorway, the letter gripped tightly in her hands. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping past Harry and moving toward the sitting room, where the light from the window cast a warm glow over the well-worn furniture. She sank onto the couch, her fingers carefully breaking the wax seal.
Harry sat down next to her, silent but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence. He wouldn't pry, but he wasn't leaving either. She was grateful for that.
Taking a deep breath, Daphne unfolded the parchment and began to read.
Dear Daphne,
I don't even know how to begin this letter. I miss you. I miss you more than I can even put into words. The house feels so empty without you here, and I hate it.
I'm proud of you, Daph. I know that might sound strange after everything that happened, but I am. You stood up for yourself—for what you believe in. I always knew you were strong, but seeing Father's reaction… I don't think I ever realized just how much you were holding back. I wish I had your courage.
Things at home are… tense. Mother has barely spoken since that night, and when she does, it's always in hushed tones when Father isn't around. I don't think she agrees with what he did, but you know how she is. She won't fight him.
And Father—Merlin, Daphne, he's furious. I've never seen him like this before. He didn't say much after you left, just stormed off to his study. But later that night, Lucius Malfoy came over. They were in the drawing room for hours.
I couldn't hear everything, but I caught bits and pieces when I snuck out of my room. They were talking about you. About Harry. About how things needed to be "corrected." But before I could hear more, Mother caught me in the hall and sent me back to my room. She was… frightened, Daph. Really frightened. And that scares me.
I don't know what they're planning, but I know it's not good. Please, be careful. I don't trust Lucius, and I don't trust Father when he's around him.
No matter what happens, I love you. You're my sister. You always will be.
Write back when you can. Please.
—Astoria
Daphne clenched the parchment in her hands, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Lucius Malfoy.
She had expected her father to react badly—furious, even—but this? Lucius being involved changed everything. He was dangerous in ways even her father wasn't.
She felt Harry shift beside her, his gaze fixed on her face.
"What did she say?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady.
Daphne exhaled slowly, forcing herself to unclench her fingers from the letter. "She says she's proud of me," she murmured, a small, bittersweet smile flickering across her lips before fading. "She misses me. But things at home…" Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard before continuing. "Lucius Malfoy was at our house that night. He and my father were planning something. She couldn't hear what, but she said my mother looked terrified."
Harry's expression darkened. "That can't be good."
"No," she said, her voice sharper than intended. "It's not."
A heavy silence settled between them as the weight of the words sank in. Lucius Malfoy wasn't the type to act without purpose. He was calculating, always positioning himself where he could gain the most advantage. If he was involved, it wasn't just about her anymore.
It was about Harry, too.
Harry exhaled sharply and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We need to be ready," he said.
Daphne nodded, her jaw set. "We will be."
She stared down at the letter again, her fingers running absently over the ink. Astoria had risked writing this. If her father found out…
"I need to write back," she murmured.
Harry gave her a small nod. "
As the rest of the Burrow settled into quiet, Daphne sat at the small wooden desk in Rons room, quill in hand, her fingers hesitating over the parchment. She had spent the past hour thinking about what to write, but no words seemed right. How could she fit everything she felt into a single letter?
Astoria,
I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.
I don't know how things are at home, but I know you must feel alone. You're not. I am still your sister, no matter what they say, no matter what happens. That will never change.
Please, Astoria, be careful. I need you to be safe.
I love you.
Daphne
She stared at the last line before signing her name. Not Daph—the affectionate name Astoria had always called her. Just Daphne.
She folded the letter carefully, tucking it inside an envelope.
Harry, sitting on the other bed, looked up from where he had been absentmindedly flipping through Quidditch Through the Ages. "How are you going to send it? If your father sees an owl from you—"
"He won't," she said, slipping the envelope into her robes. "I'm taking it myself."
Harry's expression darkened. "Daphne—"
"It's fine. They don't have wards—at least, not yet. No one will see me. I'll be in and out before anyone knows I was there."
Harry didn't look happy about it, but after a long pause, he just sighed. "Just… come back fast."
She gave him a small smirk. "Worried about me, Potter?"
"Yeah, actually," he admitted. "And I think you like that."
Daphne rolled her eyes but said nothing as she moved to the window. Without another word, she shifted into her raven form and took off into the night.
The cool night air carried her swiftly over the countryside, her black feathers blending seamlessly with the dark sky. The manor loomed ahead, a stark and silent reminder of everything she had lost.
She knew every inch of the estate—where the floors creaked, which doors were always locked, and, most importantly, where Astoria's room was.
Daphne glided toward the familiar window, her sharp eyes picking out her sister's sleeping form. The window was slightly open. Perfect. She landed softly on the sill, the envelope still clutched in her beak.
Astoria lay curled under her blankets, her breathing slow and even. Daphne hesitated for a long moment, just watching her.
She placed the letter gently on the wooden desk near the window.
Then, just before taking off, she turned her head back and cawed—softly, but just loud enough.
Astoria stirred, eyes fluttering open.
For a brief moment, the two sisters locked eyes.
And then Daphne was gone, vanishing into the night before Astoria could say a word.
When Daphne landed behind the Burrow, she shifted back and found Harry waiting for her out by the garden, arms crossed.
"You were gone longer than I liked," he muttered.
"Everything went fine," she assured him, brushing past him toward the house.
Harry followed. "Did she see you?"
Daphne hesitated, then nodded. "Just for a second."
Harry studied her face. "You okay?"
She didn't answer right away. "I don't know."
They walked in silence for a moment before Harry spoke again. "We should start training more when we get back to Hogwarts. Spells, dueling, Animagus transformations… we need to be ready for whatever's coming."
Daphne smirked slightly. "We, Potter?"
He gave her a look. "Your fights are my fights. I thought that was clear by now."
Daphne held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding, a smile forming on her lips. "Of course I do, doesn't mean I have to stop teasing you. Besides you look cute when you get protective."
"Uh… okay, Good," Harry said simply.
As they stepped inside, the warm scent of dinner filled the house. The Weasleys were gathered around the table, Molly moving between them, filling plates.
"Ah, there you two are!" Arthur greeted them as they sat down.
As the meal went on, the conversation was lively—Ron and the twins bickering about Quidditch, Ginny excitedly talking about starting Hogwarts. Then, as plates were emptied, Molly cleared her throat.
"Tomorrow, we're all going to Diagon Alley to get your school things," she announced.
Ron groaned. "Do we have to go so early?"
"Yes, we do," Molly replied firmly. "And I expect you all to be on your best behavior." Her eyes flickered toward the twins, who merely grinned.
Harry and Daphne exchanged a glance. Tomorrow would be their first time in the wizarding world since everything had changed.