Magic? || Years 1-5

A Letter?: Year 2/Summer

Ron's room was a mixture of neon orange chaos and clutter.

And Amisty loved every inch of it.

Poster after poster were plastered all over the walls, all with the same seven people holding broomsticks and waving.

"Your Quidditch team?" Harry asked curiously.

"The Chudley Cannons. Ninth in the league," He replied, gesturing to his orange bedspread, which had two C's and a cannonball marking it.

The team logo, no doubt about it.

She took a few moments to take in the surroundings. It was compact but cozy, and definitely messy.

Her gaze was caught by Scabbers who was sleeping in a patch of sunlight, his grey fur all ruffled. Ron looked at them expectantly, fidgeting his fingers.

"It's a bit small. Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on pipes and groaning..." He looked down at the ground awkwardly.

"Everything is amazing," Amisty replied, smiling.

"This is the best house I've ever been in," Harry continued brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

-=+=-

Every day was bustling and noisy.

And full of magic.

Meals were wonderful, homemade food piling up high as mountains on the crowded kitchen table. The twins constantly had booming making its way through the crack at the bottom of their closed door.

The ghoul in the attic loved pounding pips and yelling whenever he felt the house was quiet. Which it never was, at least to her standards.

Though, Amisty was loving every second in the Burrow.

It was a sunny morning, about a week since she had arrived, when her letter from Hogwarts came.

She had woken when the boys were still sleeping soundly, so to her best attempts she tried to keep quiet as she crept around the room to the door, stretching as she went.

The familiar smell of food wafted up from the kitchen, making her movements faster. That also meant, unfortunately, that they were louder as well.

The boys woke up with blinking eyes and ruffled hair.

"Oh, sorry!" She waved slightly, giving them a small smile.

"What time is it?" Ron yawned, slowly getting up from his bed.

Amisty glanced at the clock hanging up on the wall.

"About eight o'clock," She replied, deciding to wait as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes and got to their feet.

"Alright, let's go downstairs," Ron stretched before leading the way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

As they walked into view, Ginny's porridge bowl fell to the ground with a thump.

She dropped to the ground, picking it up hastily and blushing like no tomorrow. Amisty bit her lip to fight down her smile.

They all took their seats at the table, tucking into the food Mrs. Weasley had prepared.

"Letters from school," Mr Weasley handed them three yellowish envelopes with their names written in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you two are here -- doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," He turned to Fred and George, who had just come down the stairs.