HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

second year ➤ the burrow

HIS CHOSEN GIRL
chapter twenty four-the burrow
[Harry's P.O.V]
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"Ok. Cmon in," George whispers, opening the door and leading us into the Weasley's house. "Shhh."

Figures, Ron walks straight over to the kitchen table inspecting a plate full of rolls. "Do you think it'll be alright if we have some of this?" Ron asks.

"Yeah," Fred replies as he takes two, one for himself and one for his twin. "Mum will never know."

I marvel the house, taking interest in every quirky thing I see. The sink faucet runs on it's own and the dishes scrub themselves. I make my way out of the kitchen and approach a clock. On the clock, instead of hands, is a picture of each of the Weasley's and instead of numbers are words such as dentist, home, school, lost, prison etc. Three of the "hands" attached to the pictures begin to move. I watch as Fred, George, and Ron's face moves around the clock until arriving on the word home. I smile at the genius device Mr and Mrs. Weasley use to track the locations of their kids. After all, not even Mrs. Weasley is bound to know the whereabouts of all her kids, especially when two of them are Fred and George. I walk in to the living room where a rocking chair rocks back and fourth on its own, on it being a set of knitting needles in the process of knitting a very colorful jumper.

The house is quite cramped, with loads of knickknacks and furniture and as I examine the house in sheer amazement, I decide that this may be my second favorite building on earth.

"It's not much," Ron says with a mouthful of food. "But it's home."

"It's brilliant," I turn to face him, responding truthfully.

Ron smiles and nods in agreement.

I then hear a loud thumping coming down the stairs. "Where have you been?" Mrs. Weasley shrieks furiously.

I turn to face the boys, fearing for them, as they slowly lower the rolls from their mouths and hide them behind their backs.

Mrs. Weasley gasps and I turn back around to see the happiest of looks on her face, contrary to just a moment ago where if looks could kill the three boys surely would be dead.

"Harry," she beams. "How wonderful to see you."

She faces the boys again and switches in an instant. "Bed empty! No note! Car gone! You could've died, you could've been seen!"

The three boys hang their heads down in shame and Mrs Weasley walks over to me, pinching my cheeks. "Of course, I don't blame you Harry, dear."

As sweet as her gesture was it only makes me feel guiltier about the current circumstances.

Ron gulps proving that he was properly sorted into Gryffindor for a reason as he dares to speak back to his mother. "They were starving him, mum. There were bars on his window."