We, written for Charlotte Lane's challenged on HPFC.
It was a joyful feeling for George, reopening the doors of the shop which him and his brother had worked so very hard to establish. It was exhilarating to see the children (as small as a gnome to the size if Hagrid) screeching threw the store in wonder and joy. Their faces made his own light up with joy as they asked numerous questions to spread their understanding on the gadgets and gizmos which stood on the shelves. They're parent's wallets were empty within the twenty or thirty minutes of which they spend in the store. Some were even broke by ten minutes!
The walls were lined each day with new inventions and poisons, which were still all hand made. Along with the new things, old merchandize of which have been around for the past five years are still being sold and quickly produced. .
Invisible hats have seem to become a 'rage.' Diagon Alley is filled with headless bodies, all rooming the streets not taking a scare to their friends and coworkers without anything above their shoulders. And man, were they getting Weasley's Wizard Wheezes attention.
The shelves where these hats sat were surrounded by young wizards every second until close to sneak their hands around the most popular item in their store, which is right now on sale for only 12 sickles and 26 knuts.
Yet, each and everyday at his shop, George's gut told him that something was wrong. As if the store was... empty.
As if while the children were overjoyed by the numerous supplies of wonder, something... Something wasn't right...
It was like every flavored jelly beans of only one flavor, or like getting that same Dumbledore Chocolate Frog Card again and again. When it starts raining on that day you had plans or is sunny that day you just wanna stay inside and relax. It was that frustration that you feel when you can't seem to get it all.
And why George was feeling that had struck him one day on his way to the very cause of the pain; Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
"Now, Good Morning Mr. Weasly. May I call you Mr. Weasly?" Spoke a rather tired Rita Skeeter, who had been interviewing him for the Daily Prophet on his success at the shop,which they were heading to.
"Please, call me George," George said in a relaxed voice as they strode past Quality Quitich Supplies.
"I prefer Mr Weasly," Rita said, her pen furiously scribbling down whatever it's inked heart desired.
"Alright. Well, shall we start with the questioning?" George asked, already annoyed with this interview and the woman beside him.
Rita adjusted the small pink hat which sat slightly off on her head. "Now, what we think about the sudden success on the Invisible Hats?"
"Doing what we do..." George had said to Rita Skitter.
"Um... Mr. Weasly... I believe you have misspoken..." Rita stated, the pen of which had been free righting beside her still.
"What did we say? You asked us what we thought of the sudden success on the Invisible Hats and we were ready to response with, and I quote, 'Doing what we do, end quote, and yet you seem disapproved by our answer!"
Rita had a puzzled look on her now wrinkled face as she said. "Mr. Weasly, are you possessed? Is there a creature seeping into your inner soul and forcing you to speak as you were one?"
It was then the George stopped in his tracks right in front of Gringgots Wizarding Bank. He looked to his side, where he had not seen the brother that had always been there for him... The twin who helped him get his hearing back after the lose of an ear by screaming out George's love for Angelina from the kitchen and timing to see how long it had taken for George to hear find (and rudely threaten) the speaker. The twin that helped him create the shop he is now a proud owner of. The twin that could make anyone smile at any moment on their own command (and sometimes even without realizing it).
The twin that, even in the toughest and most aggravating times, was always there, no matter what.
And now... Now he was gone... Dead... killed by some stupid wall... And I couldn't stop him...
"Mr. Weasly...?" A now extremely dumbfounded Rita muttered, scratching her head in confusion.
George shook his head, as if arguing with himself. His mind felt as if it had exploded, all the things an demotions that he had tried so hard to keep locked behind a door have created themselves a key and unlocked. Now, he had to fly around to get them all away.
You couldn't have stopped him, he thought to himself. It wasn't your fault.
George took and step forward... Which was then followed by another step... And yet another... Until he was walking, tailed by a Rita Skeeter, who was shadowed by that aggravating scribbling pen on that stupid pad that on any ordinary day, George would be thrilled to create a paper kite out of and see how far it would fly.
As if nothing had happened, George started from where he had left. His voice was proudly heard by a majority of people nearby. "Doing what I do..."