I can’t recall how it’s treated in the books, however it is my ardent hope that as everyone grows older, Molly starts to treat Harry more like her other sons. Can you imagine how included he would feel, for once not someone who gets singled out in either a negative or positive way? That’s all that every happens to Harry. He’s either demonized (first by the Dursleys and then by the Death Eaters/Voldemort) and gets all their ire, or he’s lauded as the Boy Who Lived and given an insane amount of leeway. But Molly would eventually see how alienating that would feel, and begin to readjust how she behaves towards him. Just one of the family. Just another wizard with a regular life. And then eventually he and Ginny would get married, and he’d hug Molly and whisper to her how happy he is to finally be a real part of the Weasley family and she’d just whisper back “Oh Harry, you’ve been my son for years.” Whoops now I’m going to write some fic.
Molly Weasley had had quite enough of this morning, thank you very much. The ghoul’s racket upstairs had reached unforgivable proportions, Arthur had deconstructed an entire “microwave oven” on their living room floor and was staring dejectedly at it as it failed to reveal its secrets, and the kitchen… the kitchen was an absolute wreck. Arnold the pygmy puff had somehow found its way into the flour and had decorated the floor with a light dusting. Errol laid on the cutting board amidst diced carrots and potatoes, emitting a sound that could only be referred to as “dire.” The pantry door refused to close, even when cajoled. Lastly, the entire morning’s worth of dishes were piled precariously in the sink, probably only held in place by a sticking charm.
And whose responsibility was it to wash those towering dishes? The children’s. And who had put them there and walked away? The children. And where were those children now? Oh, that’s right, they were out playing Quidditch, as if they hadn’t a care in the world!
She stalked over to the door and flung it wide open. “IF YOU LOT THINK YOU’LL BE GETTING AWAY WITH NOT ATTENDING TO THESE CHORES YOU’VE GOT A RUDE AWAKENING. GET OFF THOSE BROOMS AND INSIDE - NOW!”
Everyone descended and tossed their gear into the broom shed, bemoaning the task ahead. Harry brought up the rear of the line and watched the Weasleys disseminate throughout the kitchen, each picking up a task without even asking one another what to do. Standing in the doorway, Harry shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with himself, but wanting to help.
Molly noticed immediately, and wasted no time.
"Harry, you’ll see the rest of these rapscallions marched through here without even knocking the dirt from their shoes. Be a dear and grab the dustpan from the pantry; you’ll need it to sweep up that mess and all the flour."
He let out a deep breath of relief, feeling comfortable with something as familiar as manual labor. And after he swept everything up and knocked it into the bin, Ron called out “Oi! Now help me over here with these stupid bowls - can’t get the charm right to make ‘em let go of one another…”
Molly smiled. He fit right in.
It’s been at least 5 years since I’ve written any HP fic, but I STILL GOT IT (if “it” is cheesy little one-offs).