While Percy held their attention, waving his arms about and huffing like a petulant garden gnome, Ron left the table and walked directly to the bookshelf in the living room. He brought back a discolored chessboard a moment later and busied himself by arranging the pieces while his mother watched in astonishment.

She blinked continually, breath escaping her clenched teeth in a long gust of waspish buzzing. "Rrrrronald!" Molly erupted. "My patience with you is drawing to a close. You are not seriously setting up a game of Wizard's Chess... in front of me..."

"But Bill promised me a game during his next visit," he whined.

"I don't care if your brother promised you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a bite out of the bloody moon. Complete — your — lines."

"All right, all right."

Molly took to the kitchen, as she normally did when she was frustrated, and looked for something to peel. She landed on an unripe zucchini that was resting in the windowsill. "Wizard's Chess... Think you'll be tested at Hogwarts on your ability to move pieces across a board, do you?" she continued, peeling vigorously. "You will be required to turn in scrolls. And if you think you can outsmart them, think twice. First years aren't allowed to use a Quick-Quotes Quill."

Fred sidled up to his mother, looking intrigued, as George fed a leaf of Ron's crumpled parchment to the Venus plant.

"Awful, isn't he? Such a disappointment. Now, this quill — could, say, a second year student use one?" Fred inquired, not-at-all selfishly.

"Yes, but they're dead expensive," said Bill.

"Sorry, Charlie!" Fred declared, reaching into their mom's apron for the coin pouch. "You'll have to wait one more year, I'm afraid. Quick-Quotes Quill, here I come."

The green wooden spoon soared over to smack at Fred's hand. He dropped the pouch with a yowl.

"George, your penmanship has always been satisfactory. Ron's, on the other hand, is atrocious."

"Be that as it may," he replied, nursing his fingers. "I'm still Fred."

"Yes, you are. Sorry, Fred. I won't get it wrong so often when you visit for Christmas. Then you can wear your jumpers. And George," Mrs. Weasley said, pointing at him with the vegetable peeler. "Stop feeding that thing! It'll grow as tall as this house."

"Then we can cook it," said Mr. Weasley with enthusiasm.

Fred rushed the table to cover the plant's nonexistent ears. "Shh... it's okay, girl. Don't listen to the very bad man."

Molly laughed until her attention shifted. Then she unexpectedly circled around the kitchen table and approached her husband with a determined air.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, you know. Ministry this, Ministry that."

"I see," she said faintly, crowding him. "Then you wouldn't mind explaining to me why the pictures on this newspaper are standing completely still?"

"Huh?"

Molly swiped it from his hands, her tone severe. "Bringing a Muggle newspaper into this house! And hiding it behind the cover of the Daily Prophet, to boot! Have you no shame?" She handed him back the rest of the wizarding newspaper. "Stop visiting the shops!"

"It makes us look like Muggles," he said, cringing. "Isn't it better if no one suspects us of anything?"

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself! No wonder Fred and George have been on the verge of mutiny since birth."

Mr. Weasley looked to his children who were all shielding their amused expressions. Percy was the only one to meet his gaze with a glottal grunt. He turned back to his wife.

"We were out of fruit."

"EAT AN APPLE!"

Molly aimed her wand at the fruit bowl on the table. George lifted the Venus plant out of the way as the bowl careened across the room and landed in Arthur's lap. He reached for the reddest apple, looking miserable.

"Does anyone know if you can die from eating too many apples?" he uttered lamentably.

"They're free," said Mrs. Weasley, as she stormed back to the kitchen. "That paper is not."

"There was an article on this year's Muggle automobile. I swear there's a new model every time I open the paper."

"Every time?" she replied, swiveling back. The spoon rattled in place. Arthur was wise to bite into the apple and hand the paper to Charlie, who handed it to Bill, who in turn handed it to Ron. "How many of these have you been buying?"

"It intrigues me," Arthur attempted, his mouth full. "The Prophet is just the same old rubbish, day in-day out."

"They did mention Percy once, don't forget," said George.

"And he's complete rubbish!" said Fred.

"There was a sighting of the Gallant Sorcerer," Ron read, before Molly tore the page free from him as well.

"Another sighting?" Percy asked incredulously. "Circulation must be down."

"What a load of tosh," said Charlie. He noticed Fred trying to feed that particular page to the Venus plant and took over. "Here, allow me."

"Do you think it means anything? He must be real," Ron pleaded. "He's got to be."

"Not quite," said Percy with a laugh.

"But he's in the Dark Force Defense League," Ron continued excitedly. "Isn't he, Dad?"

"Oh, I'm aware. Those comics were just the thing when I was a lad."

"Charlie, you said I could have your collection when you turned eighteen... but you'll be at school, won't you?'

"I'll fish them out before I leave. They're in dreadful condition, though. Scabbers chewed through a number of them fourth year."

"Fine by me." Ron stepped away from the table, eyes focused on something across the room, readying himself for battle against an unseen foe. "The Gallant Sorcerer — brave leader of the Dark Force Defense League — combating evil and defending Muggles across the whole of Wizendom."

He rushed to the front door where a bedraggled broomstick was leaning against the umbrella stand. Ron seized it by the handle and stuffed it down the neck of his shirt collar, dirty bristles poking the back of his ears. He returned to the living room and tried to fish it back out theatrically when the twins began to smile.

"Up!" they hollered in perfect unison.

Molly squeaked as her ten-year-old suddenly flipped end over end, his back bouncing repeatedly against the trembling ceiling joists. Feathers and dust fluttered down with each recoil, swooping up the stairs to join with the sand. Fred and George were practically neighing with unbridled laughter.

"Friendly bit of advice..."

"...never assume —"

The green spoon sprang into action, swinging wildly at Fred while Mrs. Weasley slapped George's shoulders with a half-peeled zucchini. Mr. Weasley finally had a reason to leave the easy chair as he, Charlie, and Bill helped Ron back down to the rug. The boy wobbled in place and returned to his parchment, a little wiser than before.

"You two, go do something productive. Like getting my favorite apron back from the ghoul in the attic," Molly said breathlessly, dropping her broken zucchini. "And you... Hold still."

She hit Ron with a silent spell. Instantly, a cloth napkin left the stack on the bureau. It unfolded mid-flight, ensnared the feather quill along the way, and knotted itself around Ron's palm.

"No need to ask twice," Ron mumbled.

"Don't I?" Molly was sounding more irate by the second. "What I wouldn't give for a single afternoon of good behavior from you lot."

"No need to worry about me, Mother," said Percy with certainty. "I'll be on my best behavior today."

Bill took the bait, making all of them sigh.

"Why is that?"

"It's Young Wizard's Day at the Ministry of Magic! Father is taking me to meet Bagnold's replacement for Minister."

"He got approval from our office just last week to purchase a fleet of British motor cars, you know," said Arthur.

"Why would he need permission from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office?" Bill asked.

"They needed a bit of help, you see, from those who have a mastery over... certain things."

"Sounds to me like the Minister wanted to skirt a few laws."

"Well, that might be accurate." Arthur leaned forward, voice animated and eyes aglow. "He's got us adding all sorts of little boosters throughout the vehicle. Nothing scandalous, mind... just an Anti-theft charm. And an Impervius Charm to repel water from the windshield. Oh, and an Auto-Colloportus, for locking the doors whenever the Minister, himself, is a passenger." He took a deep breath, nodding quickly. "I suppose then we'll be placing an enchantment or two on the wheels. Say, a reversing charm and a braking charm. Then there's a general mending charm on the vehicle itself. Shield charms, and so forth. Perhaps a Disillusionment Charm on the license plate to bypass the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy — Code 74b. Oh, and I almost forgot the most important of all. An Undetectable Extension Charm on the interior. Then a fair few navigation charms, speed and the like. Similar to what we added to the Knight Bus awhile back, remember Molly?"

She merely nodded as he pressed on, wearing her most wooden expression.

"The cars, themselves, are fascinating in their own right. Real old-fashioned, you know. Dark Green. Fudge seems to prefer the color green. Wears a green bowler hat at all times. Even makes his drivers wear matching velvet suits. In emerald, of all colors. Strange, though — he told us the cars were all named Morris. Quite peculiar, don't you think?"

Molly shook her head and smiled. "So sorry, dear. What was that you were saying?"

"Muggle's naming their cars? Strange practice, eh?"

"Er — yes, indeed. Very strange," she broke, blinking hard. "So, you're taking him to meet Cornelius Fudge?"

Percy strode confidently into the kitchen, where he gazed into the mirror again. "We've had the request in for weeks. I should get to know the lay of the land." He licked his teeth and smiled, just as Fred and George began to linger awfully close. "And it's never too early to make a good impression on the Minister for Magic. I've had my eyes... on the job openings... for..." He faced the twins. They were squinting at him and prodding at his hair. "What the devil are you doing? Back away. Stop! Unhand me!"

"Can't help but notice, Percy... Did you cut your own hair?" George asked, practically green with glee. "Fred would've happily done it for you."

"Can't be much different than trimming the lawn," said Fred reasonably. "Same tools, in fact."

The boys could see in the reflection of the enchanted mirror that the wooden spoon was starting to hover. They spun round, palms out and arms held high. The showdown lasted but a few seconds before the spoon nodded and they went their separate ways.