A/N: This is my first try at writing fanfic, and constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Also, somewhat obviously, I don't own anything but the plot; if I did, you can damn well bet that I would not be writing fanfiction at all. Cheers.

Chapter 1

The house on the top of the hill looked like something conjured from a bad dream. Staring at it, George Weasley wasn't even properly certain that it could be called a house; made of dark stone, it was fully as large as Hogwarts and much more forbidding. Beside him, Fred was bent over wheezing, also staring at the monstrosity.

"Well," he remarked, almost casually. "At least it suits the landscape."

Fred snorted and didn't look at him, but after a moment, he straitened and nodded almost imperceptibly, and they set off again. From behind them, howls echoed.

"Fuck."

George couldn't have agreed more, and immediately began to pick up his pace. "Race you?"

"You're on."

If he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn that they had lost those damn dogs, and although he would rather die than admit it, George was terrified. At first, there had been an entire pack of them, but once they had crossed over that little stream and into this odd piece of country full of rolling (big) hills and patches of trees that neither had ever seen before, only two had managed to pick up the trail. Unfortunately, the two that were left were fully as large as grims, and much better hunters.

Fred and George, who had become rather expert at avoiding large dogs over the past few years, had been trying for hours to lose the monsters, but all they had managed was to stay one (short) step away from them. George knew that neither of them could keep up this gruelling pace for much longer, and knew that Fred had had the same thought, because they flattened into a dead run for the house at the same time as he did.

"Oh, for…" They were almost at the doors when they heard the frustrated scream. "Cut it out, you mangy morons!"

And behind them, the howls and wet, snuffling breaths that had seemed to follow them ever since that damned stream abruptly quit. Slowing to a stop, Fred looked at George with a raised eyebrow, and George shrugged. He didn't know either. Still trying to catch their breath, they turned back to watch the small hooded figure with a lantern come in from…well, from somewhere.

"Get your asses over here!"

And, interestingly enough, a whimper came from the darkness before two massive hounds came slinking into the circle of light, tails tucked between their legs. One whined.

"Don't give me that. I heard the master telling you off the last time this happened. Do these look like pointy-headed butt-munchers to you?"

This time the other whined.

"No!" the girl almost screamed. "You got a perfectly good deer this morning! And if you don't apologize this instant, I'll tell him myself!"

George froze as the dogs immediately turned towards him and his twin. Evidently deciding to split things up evenly, one stepped in front of each of them, and they whined in unison. Then, while the twins were still frozen, Fred's hand got nudged and licked while George's face got patted with one surprisingly soft paw and then licked once, from chin to forehead. Then, still as one, the two massive hounds turned and slunk back into the night.

"I'm so sorry," the girl said, turning towards them. She couldn't have been more than fifteen years old. "They're not supposed to attack visitors…"

"It's okay," Fred assured her. "We got lost and didn't mean to trespass. Besides, it was kind of fun."

And by "fun", George knew that he meant that he wanted to collapse and never get up again.

The girl looked at them dubiously. "At least let me offer you a place to stay the night, since it was probably our fault that you got as lost as you did."

Both of them looked at the forbidding walls apprehensively. They had learnt a long time ago not to accept gifts from strangers, especially not strangers that lived in dark forbidding stone buildings, but they were hungry, thirsty and exhausted. The odds of them surviving the night alone in that state weren't very good. After a moment, they shrugged.

'Thank you," George said quietly.

Behind them, the doors, which were almost twice as tall as they were, began to open silently. Smiling slightly, the girl led them in before stopping abruptly. It was probably a sign of how exhausted they were that the twins didn't notice the man standing in the middle of the hall until she spoke to him.

"Oy. You're home."

"Looks like," the man said calmly. "Guests?'

The girl sighed. "Yeah. Your damned dogs were…"

And here was where George lost all track of the conversation, because the man had finally turned around.

"Harry?" He asked mind reeling numbly at the sight of the man that the bulk of the wizarding world had thought to be a mass murderer. Beside him, Fred tensed to flee.

"Big brother," the girl said hesitantly. "Should I send them away?"

And the man shook his head, waving a hand as if it was of no consequence. "No," he said, to the twins' unending disbelief. "Let them stay the night."

Exhausted and still reeling, the twins allowed themselves to be lead to their beds and fell into them, not even bothering to look at their surroundings.

"Do you think that this is just a bad dream?" George asked Fred sleepily, just about to drop off.

"Don't think that our luck has been that good lately, honestly."

When they woke again, it was to find Harry sitting on an armchair not far away, reading a out of a book with a green cover. From where he was, George couldn't see the title, or even if there was one. Trying very hard not to be obvious about it, he studied the man in front of him.

If it hadn't been for the scar, neither twin would have recognized the man. In the ten years since the boy had disappeared from under the noses of both the Ministry and Dumbledore, he had grown up. His face was more angular, the hair longer, and even his eyes seemed different, although that could have been the lack of glasses. His clothes too had changed: he may still have been wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt, but at least they fit.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep now, you know," Harry said, and George almost leapt out of his skin at the sound of the calm, quiet voice.

"What do are you going to do with us?" Fred asked, much more subdued than normal. George could sympathize.

"I was hoping," the man across from them said, with a faint hint of irony, "That you would help me decide what to do with you."

What ever they had been expecting, it hadn't been that, and it was a moment before George could speak without fear of bursting into cynical laughter.

"You're asking?" he finally managed, while Fred was still staring on in what looked to be slightly hysterical shock. He counted it as a victory that neither of them burst into insane laughter at the thought of their opinion having anything to with it.

Harry raised an eyebrow, slightly. "I like my home," he said as if that explained everything. "Alone and solitary in the country. When one takes that fact into account, your presence becomes somewhat of an issue.

"As I see it, I can do one of two or three things. I could let you go on your way, on the assumption that my whereabouts wouldn't leak out to, say, Dumbledore. Of course this would probably require an oath or two on your part, but it is manageable. I could assume that you two are incapable of managing to keep the secret, and keep you here indefinitely, which is also doable. Not particularly pleasant, but doable…"

"And what if we don't like either of those options?" Fred asked, his own eyebrow raised.

"Then when you leave, you might have to worry that I might let it slip that I know where to find a pair of conjoined twins."

Then, as if he hadn't just casually managed to blow the top off of their most carefully guarded secret, he got up and turned to leave. "You are welcome to stay until you decide. If you need anything, just call for Nodder, and we'll see what we can do. And incidentally…"

They waited with baited breath.

"I haven't been Harry Potter in years. The name's Evinson. James Evinson."

Then, before they could do anything but catch the reference, he was gone.

"My head hurts," Fred moaned after a moment.

George didn't bother to respond, because by the time he rolled over to face his brother, he was fast asleep.

The next time that they woke again, they were alone.