Fanfiction: Deathly Hallows Spoilers
One, two, three, four, five…Five total. One, two three, four five, six…Six. Six of those…
Hermione bent over the rack of clothes, her fingers brushing the hangers as she counted the number of medium trousers that had come in the latest shipment. Six of the mediums as well. She marked a check on the pink slip of paper and moved onto the larges. One, two three-
“Hey, Herm?”
Hermione winced at the nickname but did not bother to look up. “Yes?” she asked. …five, six, seven-
“There’s a bloke here who’s asking for you.” Ann leaned against the wall, watching Hermione. “Says he knows you.”
…eight, nine. “A bloke?” Hermione asked, frowning. She put a check next to the small nine typed on the slip and looked up. “What sort of bloke?”
Ann shrugged. “I dunno. He’s a bit odd. Dressed in some sort of cloak, like they wear in those Lord of the Rings movies, you know? Red hair, freckles. Bit cute, if you ask me.”
Hermione gave a small sigh. “That bloke,” she said, more to herself than anything else. How had he known where to come?
“Oh, so you do know him?” Ann asked, her eyes brightening. “Has he got a girlfriend, do you know?”
“I dunno, ask him.” Hermione fumbled with the large trousers, her face beginning to flush. “And tell him to come back here, I suppose.”
Ann pushed herself off the wall. “Right. Well, I’ll be at the front. If you or he need anything.”
“Thanks,” Hermione muttered. Four larges. She made a note on the slip of paper. No extra-larges. Signing her name neatly, she set the slip aside and began to rip the plastic wrapping off of the clothes.
“Oi, there you are!”
Hermione dared a look up to see Ron entering the back room, dressed in maroon robes that clashed terribly with his hair. Why his mother believed the color looked good on him…it did bring out his eyes nicely, though, Hermione thought, her mouth turning up slightly. The smile, however disappeared as Ron spoke again.
“Where have you been, Hermione? Harry said he hasn’t seen you for a month, and I know I haven’t seen you since Easter…are you mad at us or something?” Ron sounded hurt, but Hermione did not look up at him. She ripped the plastic off of the trousers, gathering a bunch in her hand. When she touched the metal rack, the static from the wrapping shocked her finger, and she pulled away quickly.
Keeping hold of the plastic, she began to stuff it into a bag as she answered. “I’ve been working, Ron. Earning some money so I can get my own place. I’ve sent you owls; I’ve told you that.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t mention you were working in a Muggle shop. I had to find that out from Ginny. Why’re you here, Hermione? You could be anywhere! You’re the cleverest witch our age, and you’re working in a Muggle shop unpacking boxes!”
Hermione shrugged, tying the bag shut. “It’s good money,” she said simply. “Mum comes here for clothes every now and then, and they offered me a job when I came in with her at the end of the year. The pounds to galleons conversion rate is quite good at the moment; it would have been silly to say no.”
“Why not Diagon Alley?” Ron asked. “George is trying to find someone to help him with the shop, you could do that. He’s offering pretty good pay, too. Why can’t you do that? Or Gringotts, I hear they’re hiring.”
Tossing the bag to the side, Hermione picked up the box cutter and ran it along the edge of the next box. “I don’t fancy working with goblins,” she said. “Besides, I promised Mum and Dad I’d stay with them for a bit.”
Ron made an impatient noise. “Stay with them for a bit? Hermione, Harry defeated You-Know-Who-”
“There’s no sense in not saying his name anymore, Ron,” Hermione said lightly as she pulled an armful of shirts from the box and put them on the rack.
“Yes, well Harry defeated him in June! It’s April now, and Harry and I haven’t had a decent chat with you since Christmas! Even then you wouldn’t stay for long because you’d ‘promised your parents.’ Hermione, you aren’t a Muggle!”
“No, I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I have to ignore my parents!” Hermione put down the pile of shirts and glared up at Ron. “Do you realize that the last time I really spent time with my parents, really spoke with them I was seventeen? And even then there was hardly a moment I wasn’t worrying we’d be attacked during Christmas dinner! And before that, I spent the summer at Grimmauld Place, and I left Christmas with my parents because your dad got attacked. The summer before that I was at the Quidditch World Cup, and I didn’t go home for Christmas in our fourth year either because of the Yule Ball!”
Ron backed into the wall, looking a bit frightened. He glanced at Hermione’s hand, as if looking for her wand, and almost seemed startled not to see it.
“The point is, Ron…” Hermione took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I need a bit of time with my family. I promised Mum and Dad I would, and I really can’t go back on it.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she balled her hands into fists. “I modified their memories, Ron,” she whispered. “I changed who they were. I left them, not knowing if I’d ever be back, if I’d ever see them again; knowing that if I didn’t…if I didn’t make it, that they wouldn’t even remember I had existed…”
Ron put his hand up to pat her shoulder awkwardly. “I know, Hermione,” he said. “But…you can’t be a Muggle, see? ‘Cause you’re bloody good witch, and it’s a complete waste of brain space for you to work in this silly shop for the rest of your life.”
Hermione laughed weakly. “I wasn’t planning on working her forever,” she said, pulling away. “Just until I figure out what I want to do. I’ve already applied for three positions at the Ministry, as well as a reporter’s position at the Daily Prophet-”
“The Daily Prophet?” Ron asked, shocked. “But that place is awful! They always print lies-”
“Yes, and I think it’s about time someone goes and prints the truth, don’t you?” Hermione asked. “Now, I have work to be doing, unless there’s more you have to say?”
Ron scuffed his foot on the ground. “Er…yeah. Actually, I came here to ask…well, see, Harry and I are getting a flat…”
“What happened to Grimmauld Place?” Hermione asked. She picked up the pink slip for the shirts and began checking them off. One, two, three…
Ron laughed. “Well, Harry says it’s a bit too creepy for his taste. Can’t say I blame him. He said if he has a family he might invest in having it cleaned professionally. See if he can do anything about the spiders and Mrs. Black’s portrait.”
“Right. So in the meantime you’ll be getting a flat.” Smalls, three. Mediums, five. Large…
“Well, yeah. Somewhere near Diagon Alley, I think. Or just off it, George says it’s cheaper if you live on the side streets. Anyway, Harry said we should ask if you’ll move in with us as well. If you want, I mean. Ginny keeps insisting she’s coming, too, once she’s graduated from Hogwarts, but I dunno if Mum’ll let her.” He was silent for a moment as she counted the larges and put a small check down. “What do you think?”
Hermione put the paper aside to finish later and smiled at him. “I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “I’d planned on leaving my parents’ soon, though I might stay here for a bit. The old Muggle ladies are sweet, and no one asks me what it was like camping with Harry Potter.”
Ron scowled, and Hermione hid a grin. “Right,” he said. “Well. Excellent. I’ll let Harry know.” He turned to go, but paused for a moment.
“Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“D’you get a lunch break here?” Ron’s ears were turning red, and Hermione couldn’t hold back her grin this time. “I mean, I was thinking we could go over to the Leaky Cauldron, have some butterbeer…if you want to, I mean.”
Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t get lunch.”
Ron looked outraged. “No lunch! What sort of barbaric place are these Muggles running? That shouldn’t be allowed! No lunch-”
“Ron,” Hermione interrupted loudly. “Ron, I only get lunch if I’m here for six hours. I’m only here for four hours today. I get off in an hour, if you want to meet me then.”
Ron’s ears had hardly had a chance to return to their normal shade, when at these words they became bright red once more. “Oh. Alright. Well then. I guess I’ll see you then?”
“Yes, you will.” Hermione smiled at him and picked up the slip again, her fingers already feeling for the hangers. “I’ll meet you there.”
Nearly running into the stack of boxes, Ron hurried from the store, his ears bright red but his face spread in a huge grin. Hermione resumed her counting, a smile on her lips as well.
“So, does he have a girl?” Ann resumed her position against the wall. Hermione noticed a rather impish grin on the young woman’s face this time as she glanced up in between shirt sizes.
“Yes,” Hermione replied, her smile hidden. “Yes, he does.”
Ann gave a small snort, but said nothing in reply as she returned to her position at the front of the store and Hermione resumed counting.
One, two, three, four…Four smalls. One, two three…
Title: Peace, Calm, Tranquility
Type: Missing Moment, DH
Characters: Fred, George, various Weasleys
Summary: The twins come to terms with Fred's death.
Author's notes: My own thoughts on Fred's death were very scattered and didn't even make sense in my own head, and as I pictured the scene in my head, I thought that George's thoughts would be similar. There are quotes taken from all seven books in this fic.
Alone. So utterly alone. Empty, helpless, incompletely alone. Standing in an empty, dark cavern, the sound of the silence bearing down on him as he walked, a child in the void, the silence louder than his faltering footsteps, which echoed horribly into the emptiness.
“…can’t be gone, feel his pulse, you can’t have checked it right…”
“…wouldn’t have actually done it, they couldn’t have killed Fred, not our Fred…”
“…didn’t even realize it was happening…”
“…died laughing…”
The waves of the ocean crashed against the walls of the cave, the water washing up against his feet and soothing the pain that he hadn’t even realized was there. His hands moved up and down his body as he felt the cuts and bruises that covered every inch of his skin. The darkness of the cave seemed to crush in on him as the continuing sound of the waves echoed through his mind.
*
“Fred, you’re next.”
“I’m not Fred, I’m George. Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”
“Sorry, George, dear.”
“Only joking, I am Fred.”
*
Empty. Like a hunger pain, but one that could not be cured with a shot of firewhisky and a loaf of bread. Something in him growled for comfort, but nothing would comfort him, not the weak smiles of his siblings, nor the pained sobs of his mother. Nothing, nothing would comfort him but for the boy next to him to jump up and laugh at them for believing his silly joke. But it wasn’t a silly joke, for the boy was not moving, he was not even smiling. He always smiled, except in Potions exams…
“…have to get the others to St. Mungo’s…”
“…Harry’s gone, can’t find him…”
"...leave Fred here, we just can’t!”
“…George…”
There was a light somewhere nearby. He turned to follow it, and the sounds of the crashing waves grew quieter. The water was warmer here, almost pleasant. But the raw, gnawing feeling of emptiness continued in him even as he followed the light that was to make him lose all sense of reality…
*
“Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…”
“It is not a laughing matter.”
“Oh, get out of the way, Percy. Harry’s in a hurry.”
“Yeah, he’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with is fanged servant.”
*
Couldn’t go on like this, couldn’t continue. How to breathe, even, how to exist without the other half, without the half that knew all the answers and gave all the laughs? Without the other half, what was he an incomplete set, a Bludger without a Beater, a Keeper without hoops. How to live, how to move on from this moment, to stand even was too painful, to leave this body, this face that was so familiar it was as if he was looking in a mirror.
“…got to go, can’t stay…”
“…George, have to leave…”
“…isn’t safe, they’ll be here any minute…”
“…do with the body…”
The light grew stronger, and the water grew warmer, til it was almost too hot to stand. But the light fascinated him, like the light of a wand that could never be put out, a Lumos that had no Nox. He’d have to speak to George about that, how to make a light stay that bright…except George wouldn’t understand this light…George couldn’t know this light…not yet…
*
"What’s that supposed to be?”
“This, Harry, is the secret of our success.”
“It’s a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided last night your need’s greater than ours.”
“Anyway, we know it by heart. We bequeath it to you. We don’t need it anymore.”
*
Standing up, picking up his feet, leaving the body there for just a moment. He’d be back, be back to stare into the empty face and wonder why, why it had been them, why they had been touched. But now was not the moment for that; now was the moment to fight, to find an answer in revenge for his brother, partner, best friend’s unfair death. He stood and followed his family from the bodies, toward the Death Eaters, toward battle, not caring if he lived or died, if he followed the living or the dead.
“…that Harry?”
“…no, no, not Harry…”
“…can’t be true, can’t be real, can’t have died…”
“…no hope…”
An echo. He stopped for a moment, the silence overwhelming. A whisper, a call? But who? The light faded in his eyes for a moment, and the sound of the water was too distant to hear. Who had called? He stayed still for a moment, wondering, hoping, dreading, but hearing nothing, continued on his way.
*
“-that’s blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that-”
“-we’ve tried being polite; it’s time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn’t like the Ministry of Magi knowing what he did-”
“I’m telling you, if you put that in writing, it’s blackmail!”
“Yeah, and you won’t be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?”
*
Defeat Voldemort. Defend Harry. Fight. Revenge. Blood pounding in the brain, words running through the head, Fred, Fred gone. People running, scattering, curses, killing. Screaming, someone was screaming. Death Eaters, giants, spiders everywhere, humans running in all directions. Wand out, ready to fight. Friends at his side, shooting spells at anything that glared at him, anyone who turned a wand in his direction.
“…out of my way!”
“…move, Ginny, move!”
“…AVADA…”
“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!”
There were voices in the distance, murmurs in the back, but they disappeared quickly, choosing a different way, not wanting his way. The light grew stronger still, and the water seemed to whisper to him, go on, move on, keep moving. Too late to go back; too late to change course. The whisper from above had long vanished, and so he continued to walk, his feet bare on the bottom of the cave, following the light that had no end.
*
“George, I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself.”
“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?”
“Definitely.”
*
Not knowing what to do, running, running, running. Shouting at others, his mind back with Fred, needing to fight for him, wanting to fight with him. Curses shouted, blocked, avoided. Confusion everywhere, chaos. Battle ending, people running. A voice in the distance, a familiar voice shouting to them.
“…don’t want anyone to try to help…”
“…can he say that, course we’ll help…”
“…not want us to get hurt, but it’s too late…”
“…he survive it again?”
A ripple in the water this time, a ripple from far above. But no time to stop, no time to wonder who it was. The silence, the warmth, they called him, as if his name was in them somehow. This place was where he had always been destined to visit, to pass through. This place had waited for centuries for this moment, and there was no time to stop and wait. Not now, not here.
*
“…meanwhile, we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a - whoops-a-daisy!”
“You made me do that! You wait, when I’m seventeen-”
“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald.”
*
Harry, Harry not dead. Harry alive and running, running toward Voldemort, toward certain death. Or certain life. Talking, yelling, confusion. Hissing at him, mocking him. Curses shouted, lights and bangs. Spells colliding, eyes watching. Then…dead, dead at last. You-Know-Who, The Dark Lord, Voldemort, Tom Riddle, dead in all certainty, dead like a human, dead like Fred. Fred, who still lay in the Great Hall, his eyes unseeing, mouth open in a grin for a joke unfinished. Fred, who would never know the end of it all, who would walk beyond and never return. Fred, his brother whom he had loved and would miss, but would learn to live without, survive without, be without. Fred.
“…over, finally over…”
“…rest, go home, have some tea…”
“…Lupin and Tonks, can’t believe it…”
“…Fred, too. And George, poor George…”
White taking over as he left the cave behind, the warm water flowing over his body as the silence wrapped around him like one of Mum’s warm blankets.
“Hello, Minister! Did I mention I’m resigning?”
“You’re joking, Perce! You are joking, Percy….I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-”
Peace, calm, tranquility, and everlasting satisfaction as a smile crossed his face for one last time.
Hermione bent over the rack of clothes, her fingers brushing the hangers as she counted the number of medium trousers that had come in the latest shipment. Six of the mediums as well. She marked a check on the pink slip of paper and moved onto the larges. One, two three-
“Hey, Herm?”
Hermione winced at the nickname but did not bother to look up. “Yes?” she asked. …five, six, seven-
“There’s a bloke here who’s asking for you.” Ann leaned against the wall, watching Hermione. “Says he knows you.”
…eight, nine. “A bloke?” Hermione asked, frowning. She put a check next to the small nine typed on the slip and looked up. “What sort of bloke?”
Ann shrugged. “I dunno. He’s a bit odd. Dressed in some sort of cloak, like they wear in those Lord of the Rings movies, you know? Red hair, freckles. Bit cute, if you ask me.”
Hermione gave a small sigh. “That bloke,” she said, more to herself than anything else. How had he known where to come?
“Oh, so you do know him?” Ann asked, her eyes brightening. “Has he got a girlfriend, do you know?”
“I dunno, ask him.” Hermione fumbled with the large trousers, her face beginning to flush. “And tell him to come back here, I suppose.”
Ann pushed herself off the wall. “Right. Well, I’ll be at the front. If you or he need anything.”
“Thanks,” Hermione muttered. Four larges. She made a note on the slip of paper. No extra-larges. Signing her name neatly, she set the slip aside and began to rip the plastic wrapping off of the clothes.
“Oi, there you are!”
Hermione dared a look up to see Ron entering the back room, dressed in maroon robes that clashed terribly with his hair. Why his mother believed the color looked good on him…it did bring out his eyes nicely, though, Hermione thought, her mouth turning up slightly. The smile, however disappeared as Ron spoke again.
“Where have you been, Hermione? Harry said he hasn’t seen you for a month, and I know I haven’t seen you since Easter…are you mad at us or something?” Ron sounded hurt, but Hermione did not look up at him. She ripped the plastic off of the trousers, gathering a bunch in her hand. When she touched the metal rack, the static from the wrapping shocked her finger, and she pulled away quickly.
Keeping hold of the plastic, she began to stuff it into a bag as she answered. “I’ve been working, Ron. Earning some money so I can get my own place. I’ve sent you owls; I’ve told you that.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t mention you were working in a Muggle shop. I had to find that out from Ginny. Why’re you here, Hermione? You could be anywhere! You’re the cleverest witch our age, and you’re working in a Muggle shop unpacking boxes!”
Hermione shrugged, tying the bag shut. “It’s good money,” she said simply. “Mum comes here for clothes every now and then, and they offered me a job when I came in with her at the end of the year. The pounds to galleons conversion rate is quite good at the moment; it would have been silly to say no.”
“Why not Diagon Alley?” Ron asked. “George is trying to find someone to help him with the shop, you could do that. He’s offering pretty good pay, too. Why can’t you do that? Or Gringotts, I hear they’re hiring.”
Tossing the bag to the side, Hermione picked up the box cutter and ran it along the edge of the next box. “I don’t fancy working with goblins,” she said. “Besides, I promised Mum and Dad I’d stay with them for a bit.”
Ron made an impatient noise. “Stay with them for a bit? Hermione, Harry defeated You-Know-Who-”
“There’s no sense in not saying his name anymore, Ron,” Hermione said lightly as she pulled an armful of shirts from the box and put them on the rack.
“Yes, well Harry defeated him in June! It’s April now, and Harry and I haven’t had a decent chat with you since Christmas! Even then you wouldn’t stay for long because you’d ‘promised your parents.’ Hermione, you aren’t a Muggle!”
“No, I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I have to ignore my parents!” Hermione put down the pile of shirts and glared up at Ron. “Do you realize that the last time I really spent time with my parents, really spoke with them I was seventeen? And even then there was hardly a moment I wasn’t worrying we’d be attacked during Christmas dinner! And before that, I spent the summer at Grimmauld Place, and I left Christmas with my parents because your dad got attacked. The summer before that I was at the Quidditch World Cup, and I didn’t go home for Christmas in our fourth year either because of the Yule Ball!”
Ron backed into the wall, looking a bit frightened. He glanced at Hermione’s hand, as if looking for her wand, and almost seemed startled not to see it.
“The point is, Ron…” Hermione took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I need a bit of time with my family. I promised Mum and Dad I would, and I really can’t go back on it.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she balled her hands into fists. “I modified their memories, Ron,” she whispered. “I changed who they were. I left them, not knowing if I’d ever be back, if I’d ever see them again; knowing that if I didn’t…if I didn’t make it, that they wouldn’t even remember I had existed…”
Ron put his hand up to pat her shoulder awkwardly. “I know, Hermione,” he said. “But…you can’t be a Muggle, see? ‘Cause you’re bloody good witch, and it’s a complete waste of brain space for you to work in this silly shop for the rest of your life.”
Hermione laughed weakly. “I wasn’t planning on working her forever,” she said, pulling away. “Just until I figure out what I want to do. I’ve already applied for three positions at the Ministry, as well as a reporter’s position at the Daily Prophet-”
“The Daily Prophet?” Ron asked, shocked. “But that place is awful! They always print lies-”
“Yes, and I think it’s about time someone goes and prints the truth, don’t you?” Hermione asked. “Now, I have work to be doing, unless there’s more you have to say?”
Ron scuffed his foot on the ground. “Er…yeah. Actually, I came here to ask…well, see, Harry and I are getting a flat…”
“What happened to Grimmauld Place?” Hermione asked. She picked up the pink slip for the shirts and began checking them off. One, two, three…
Ron laughed. “Well, Harry says it’s a bit too creepy for his taste. Can’t say I blame him. He said if he has a family he might invest in having it cleaned professionally. See if he can do anything about the spiders and Mrs. Black’s portrait.”
“Right. So in the meantime you’ll be getting a flat.” Smalls, three. Mediums, five. Large…
“Well, yeah. Somewhere near Diagon Alley, I think. Or just off it, George says it’s cheaper if you live on the side streets. Anyway, Harry said we should ask if you’ll move in with us as well. If you want, I mean. Ginny keeps insisting she’s coming, too, once she’s graduated from Hogwarts, but I dunno if Mum’ll let her.” He was silent for a moment as she counted the larges and put a small check down. “What do you think?”
Hermione put the paper aside to finish later and smiled at him. “I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “I’d planned on leaving my parents’ soon, though I might stay here for a bit. The old Muggle ladies are sweet, and no one asks me what it was like camping with Harry Potter.”
Ron scowled, and Hermione hid a grin. “Right,” he said. “Well. Excellent. I’ll let Harry know.” He turned to go, but paused for a moment.
“Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“D’you get a lunch break here?” Ron’s ears were turning red, and Hermione couldn’t hold back her grin this time. “I mean, I was thinking we could go over to the Leaky Cauldron, have some butterbeer…if you want to, I mean.”
Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t get lunch.”
Ron looked outraged. “No lunch! What sort of barbaric place are these Muggles running? That shouldn’t be allowed! No lunch-”
“Ron,” Hermione interrupted loudly. “Ron, I only get lunch if I’m here for six hours. I’m only here for four hours today. I get off in an hour, if you want to meet me then.”
Ron’s ears had hardly had a chance to return to their normal shade, when at these words they became bright red once more. “Oh. Alright. Well then. I guess I’ll see you then?”
“Yes, you will.” Hermione smiled at him and picked up the slip again, her fingers already feeling for the hangers. “I’ll meet you there.”
Nearly running into the stack of boxes, Ron hurried from the store, his ears bright red but his face spread in a huge grin. Hermione resumed her counting, a smile on her lips as well.
“So, does he have a girl?” Ann resumed her position against the wall. Hermione noticed a rather impish grin on the young woman’s face this time as she glanced up in between shirt sizes.
“Yes,” Hermione replied, her smile hidden. “Yes, he does.”
Ann gave a small snort, but said nothing in reply as she returned to her position at the front of the store and Hermione resumed counting.
One, two, three, four…Four smalls. One, two three…
Title: Peace, Calm, Tranquility
Type: Missing Moment, DH
Characters: Fred, George, various Weasleys
Summary: The twins come to terms with Fred's death.
Author's notes: My own thoughts on Fred's death were very scattered and didn't even make sense in my own head, and as I pictured the scene in my head, I thought that George's thoughts would be similar. There are quotes taken from all seven books in this fic.
Alone. So utterly alone. Empty, helpless, incompletely alone. Standing in an empty, dark cavern, the sound of the silence bearing down on him as he walked, a child in the void, the silence louder than his faltering footsteps, which echoed horribly into the emptiness.
“…can’t be gone, feel his pulse, you can’t have checked it right…”
“…wouldn’t have actually done it, they couldn’t have killed Fred, not our Fred…”
“…didn’t even realize it was happening…”
“…died laughing…”
The waves of the ocean crashed against the walls of the cave, the water washing up against his feet and soothing the pain that he hadn’t even realized was there. His hands moved up and down his body as he felt the cuts and bruises that covered every inch of his skin. The darkness of the cave seemed to crush in on him as the continuing sound of the waves echoed through his mind.
*
“Fred, you’re next.”
“I’m not Fred, I’m George. Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”
“Sorry, George, dear.”
“Only joking, I am Fred.”
*
Empty. Like a hunger pain, but one that could not be cured with a shot of firewhisky and a loaf of bread. Something in him growled for comfort, but nothing would comfort him, not the weak smiles of his siblings, nor the pained sobs of his mother. Nothing, nothing would comfort him but for the boy next to him to jump up and laugh at them for believing his silly joke. But it wasn’t a silly joke, for the boy was not moving, he was not even smiling. He always smiled, except in Potions exams…
“…have to get the others to St. Mungo’s…”
“…Harry’s gone, can’t find him…”
"...leave Fred here, we just can’t!”
“…George…”
There was a light somewhere nearby. He turned to follow it, and the sounds of the crashing waves grew quieter. The water was warmer here, almost pleasant. But the raw, gnawing feeling of emptiness continued in him even as he followed the light that was to make him lose all sense of reality…
*
“Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…”
“It is not a laughing matter.”
“Oh, get out of the way, Percy. Harry’s in a hurry.”
“Yeah, he’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with is fanged servant.”
*
Couldn’t go on like this, couldn’t continue. How to breathe, even, how to exist without the other half, without the half that knew all the answers and gave all the laughs? Without the other half, what was he an incomplete set, a Bludger without a Beater, a Keeper without hoops. How to live, how to move on from this moment, to stand even was too painful, to leave this body, this face that was so familiar it was as if he was looking in a mirror.
“…got to go, can’t stay…”
“…George, have to leave…”
“…isn’t safe, they’ll be here any minute…”
“…do with the body…”
The light grew stronger, and the water grew warmer, til it was almost too hot to stand. But the light fascinated him, like the light of a wand that could never be put out, a Lumos that had no Nox. He’d have to speak to George about that, how to make a light stay that bright…except George wouldn’t understand this light…George couldn’t know this light…not yet…
*
"What’s that supposed to be?”
“This, Harry, is the secret of our success.”
“It’s a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided last night your need’s greater than ours.”
“Anyway, we know it by heart. We bequeath it to you. We don’t need it anymore.”
*
Standing up, picking up his feet, leaving the body there for just a moment. He’d be back, be back to stare into the empty face and wonder why, why it had been them, why they had been touched. But now was not the moment for that; now was the moment to fight, to find an answer in revenge for his brother, partner, best friend’s unfair death. He stood and followed his family from the bodies, toward the Death Eaters, toward battle, not caring if he lived or died, if he followed the living or the dead.
“…that Harry?”
“…no, no, not Harry…”
“…can’t be true, can’t be real, can’t have died…”
“…no hope…”
An echo. He stopped for a moment, the silence overwhelming. A whisper, a call? But who? The light faded in his eyes for a moment, and the sound of the water was too distant to hear. Who had called? He stayed still for a moment, wondering, hoping, dreading, but hearing nothing, continued on his way.
*
“-that’s blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that-”
“-we’ve tried being polite; it’s time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn’t like the Ministry of Magi knowing what he did-”
“I’m telling you, if you put that in writing, it’s blackmail!”
“Yeah, and you won’t be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?”
*
Defeat Voldemort. Defend Harry. Fight. Revenge. Blood pounding in the brain, words running through the head, Fred, Fred gone. People running, scattering, curses, killing. Screaming, someone was screaming. Death Eaters, giants, spiders everywhere, humans running in all directions. Wand out, ready to fight. Friends at his side, shooting spells at anything that glared at him, anyone who turned a wand in his direction.
“…out of my way!”
“…move, Ginny, move!”
“…AVADA…”
“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!”
There were voices in the distance, murmurs in the back, but they disappeared quickly, choosing a different way, not wanting his way. The light grew stronger still, and the water seemed to whisper to him, go on, move on, keep moving. Too late to go back; too late to change course. The whisper from above had long vanished, and so he continued to walk, his feet bare on the bottom of the cave, following the light that had no end.
*
“George, I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself.”
“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?”
“Definitely.”
*
Not knowing what to do, running, running, running. Shouting at others, his mind back with Fred, needing to fight for him, wanting to fight with him. Curses shouted, blocked, avoided. Confusion everywhere, chaos. Battle ending, people running. A voice in the distance, a familiar voice shouting to them.
“…don’t want anyone to try to help…”
“…can he say that, course we’ll help…”
“…not want us to get hurt, but it’s too late…”
“…he survive it again?”
A ripple in the water this time, a ripple from far above. But no time to stop, no time to wonder who it was. The silence, the warmth, they called him, as if his name was in them somehow. This place was where he had always been destined to visit, to pass through. This place had waited for centuries for this moment, and there was no time to stop and wait. Not now, not here.
*
“…meanwhile, we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the correct use of a - whoops-a-daisy!”
“You made me do that! You wait, when I’m seventeen-”
“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald.”
*
Harry, Harry not dead. Harry alive and running, running toward Voldemort, toward certain death. Or certain life. Talking, yelling, confusion. Hissing at him, mocking him. Curses shouted, lights and bangs. Spells colliding, eyes watching. Then…dead, dead at last. You-Know-Who, The Dark Lord, Voldemort, Tom Riddle, dead in all certainty, dead like a human, dead like Fred. Fred, who still lay in the Great Hall, his eyes unseeing, mouth open in a grin for a joke unfinished. Fred, who would never know the end of it all, who would walk beyond and never return. Fred, his brother whom he had loved and would miss, but would learn to live without, survive without, be without. Fred.
“…over, finally over…”
“…rest, go home, have some tea…”
“…Lupin and Tonks, can’t believe it…”
“…Fred, too. And George, poor George…”
White taking over as he left the cave behind, the warm water flowing over his body as the silence wrapped around him like one of Mum’s warm blankets.
“Hello, Minister! Did I mention I’m resigning?”
“You’re joking, Perce! You are joking, Percy….I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-”
Peace, calm, tranquility, and everlasting satisfaction as a smile crossed his face for one last time.