The Wizard: Ascending Beyond Marvel

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Wes's face twitched slightly in surprise, his brows knitting together in faint confusion. He hadn't expected an invitation—especially not from the Weasleys.

"You want me to spend Christmas at your house?" he echoed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Fred and George exchanged a quick glance before breaking into identical wide grins.

"Mum heard about how well-behaved we've been this year," Fred said, his voice brimming with mischief.

"Not a single detention," George added with a mock-solemn nod.

"And she knows you've been teaching us alchemy," Fred continued, eyes twinkling.

"She wants to thank you properly," George finished, his voice warm with sincerity.

Their words hung in the air as they gazed at Wes expectantly, their enthusiasm radiating off them in waves. He had grown accustomed to their rapid back-and-forth way of speaking, but their invitation left him unmoored.

"Christmas..." Wes murmured to himself, barely audible.

He had always been alone. His life had been a solitary pursuit of knowledge, one spell after another, without any real connections. Invitations—warm, genuine ones—were foreign to him. This was uncharted territory.

And yet...

He had always been intrigued by Arthur Weasley's magical modifications, particularly the flying car. The thought of seeing more of his handiwork piqued his curiosity.

"Well," Wes finally said, lifting his gaze to meet theirs. "Why not?"

Fred and George erupted into cheers, jumping up with a synchronized whoop. Their excitement was so infectious that the corners of Wes's mouth twitched upward into the smallest of smiles.

"Do I need to bring anything?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Nope!" they chorused, their grins stretching wider.

"Mum will be over the moon!" Fred added.

Before Wes could say another word, they bolted off, practically bouncing with excitement. He watched them go, their laughter ringing through the halls, and for the first time in a long while, a peculiar warmth settled in his chest.

Despite their reassurances, Wes couldn't imagine showing up empty-handed. He spent days meticulously selecting gifts—each one chosen with care, tailored to the Weasley family's individual tastes. It was an unfamiliar process, but somehow... it felt important.

When the holiday finally arrived, Wes found himself sharing a carriage with the Weasley children and Hermione. The atmosphere was lively, filled with chatter and laughter. He had brought along an assortment of colorful candies, their shimmering wrappers catching the light, much to the delight of the younger ones.

Ginny, the youngest, sat quietly in a corner, sneaking curious glances at Wes when she thought he wasn't looking. Percy, on the other hand, was overly eager, launching into an overly formal conversation that made Wes inwardly sigh.

Percy was trying too hard to appear mature, his words deliberate, his posture stiff. It was clear that beneath the polished exterior lay an undeniable yearning to prove himself.

Hermione, ever the inquisitive one, bombarded Wes with rapid-fire questions, her hunger for knowledge insatiable. Ron, sitting beside her, groaned.

"Honestly, Hermione, even sugar can't shut you up?"

Hermione shot him a withering glare. Ron, panicked, shoved a piece of chocolate into his mouth, muffling any further complaints. The sight of his desperate attempt at peacekeeping sent the rest of the carriage into fits of laughter.

The train finally pulled into Platform 9¾, and before Wes could take in the bustling crowd, he spotted Mrs. Weasley waving enthusiastically, her warm smile unmistakable.

Ginny wasted no time, leaping from the train and straight into her mother's waiting arms. The sheer joy on her face, the way she clung to Mrs. Weasley as if she had been away for years instead of months, was... touching. The affection between them was something so natural, so effortless.

Mrs. Weasley smoothed Ginny's hair, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Oh, my little girl..."

"Wes!" Arthur's booming voice pulled him from the scene. The older man strode forward, his grin wide as he pulled Wes into an unexpected but firm hug.

Wes stiffened.

It wasn't that he disliked it. It was just... unfamiliar. Strange.

Arthur pulled back, his grip still firm on Wes's shoulders. "Fred and George haven't driven you completely mad yet, have they?"

"Not yet," Wes replied dryly.

Arthur laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Good lad! And please—just call me Arthur."

"Arthur," Wes echoed, the name feeling oddly comfortable on his tongue.

The twins puffed up with exaggerated pride at Wes's earlier compliment about their talent in alchemy. They struck identical poses, basking in the attention. Their antics earned a round of laughter from everyone around them.

As the greetings wrapped up, they made their way to the Burrow.

The house was... peculiar.

Wes stared at the towering, mismatched structure, taking in its crooked angles, the barely-held-together charm of it all. It looked like a strong gust of wind might topple it, and yet, there was something undeniably welcoming about it.

Inside, the air was thick with warmth and the scent of home-cooked meals. Coats were shed, boots kicked off, and the Weasley home came alive with the chaotic energy of its many inhabitants.

Ron attempted to rush upstairs, only for Fred and George to intercept him, each trying to wrestle their way ahead. Ginny, small and nimble, darted between them with ease, earning a round of laughter as she declared victory.

Mrs. Weasley busied herself in the kitchen, preparing a feast. Some of the younger ones attempted to help, but their enthusiasm far outweighed their skill. Plates nearly crashed, seasonings spilled, and flour dusted the air like misplaced snow.

Arthur stood off to the side, helplessly rubbing the back of his neck. "Cooking's never been my strong suit."

Wes found himself equally out of place amid the culinary chaos—until he remembered.

With a flick of his wrist, he unlatched his suitcase, and from within, Zandi emerged.

The house elf bowed deeply. "How may I be of service, Master Wes?"

The Weasleys barely batted an eye at Zandi's presence—house elves were nothing unusual. But the suitcase? That was another matter entirely.

Arthur's eyes lit up with undisguised fascination. "Merlin's beard! Is this... is this dragon-hide?"

Fred and George crowded around, running eager fingers over the smooth material.

"Fire dragon skin," Fred confirmed, awestruck. "This must've cost a fortune."

Ron's eyes went round with disbelief. "Blimey... How rich are you?"

Percy adjusted his glasses, whistling. "That's probably worth more than our house."

Wes chuckled, shaking his head. "Most of my funds come from selling artifacts I've recovered from my adventures. And, let me tell you, crafting this was not cheap."

"What's inside?" George asked, voice thick with curiosity.

Wes smirked. "Secret."

The twins groaned dramatically, but before they could pry further, Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out.

"Dinner is ready!"

The small dining table was barely enough for the group, but no one seemed to mind the close quarters. The room buzzed with laughter, playful teasing, and the clatter of cutlery. Despite the absence of Bill and Charlie, the atmosphere remained warm and full.

Mrs. Weasley beamed as she watched her children—and Wes, the newest addition to the chaos—devour her cooking.

"Looks like I'll need to cook twice as much for tomorrow's Christmas feast!" she mused aloud.

Wes, watching the joyful scene unfold, found himself thinking... maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.