They had just finished their Sunday meal. Harry leaned back from the table, stretching his arms. Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Heather, Ginny, and Whitney cleared the table of all the dishes. Fred and Teddy had gone outside, arguing as usual about whose Quidditch team was the best.

"Dad, listen. I was thinking about it, and, well, I think that I'll retire from the dragon work."

Mr. Weasley, who had been taking a hearty swig of fire whiskey, showered all of the Weasleys around him with it. "But, Charlie. This is what you've always wanted, right?"

Charlie merely shrugged. His father peered into the depths of his glass, and upon seeing that it was almost empty, he Summoned the bottle of fire whiskey and poured another glass for himself.

Ginny came and sat next to Harry, a hand on her back. "You all right?" Harry asked, putting an arm around her shoulders for comfort and a hand to her swollen stomach.

"Just a little tired, but, nothing unusual." She leaned her head against his shoulder for support.

Ron looked slightly concerned at his strong sister's weakness and eyed his also pregnant wife with a little fear.

"Come on, now, let's all get out of the kitchen! Come now!" Mrs. Weasley ushered them all into the sitting room, where the walls had been recently plastered with pictures that the grandchildren had drawn. The men took the harder chairs and allowed the three pregnant women to sit on the sofa, along with Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to be apprehended with something. She kept looking at the clock in the corner of the room, the original nine hands having been multiplied into more than twenty now, it had become too hard to discern the names and faces of the hands even when Harry pressed his face to the glass and squinted with all of his might.

Just then, Teddy and Fred walked into the living room, practically shouting each other down.

"No, the Chudley Cannons are better!" Fred insisted, hitting the back of her legs absentmindedly with her prize Chudley Cannons autographed Beater's bat. "Their Beaters are great, not to mention they have the best Keeper in the world, Oliver Wood."

Teddy shook his head violently as they sat down. "No. The Bulgarians are completely and utterly the best!" He said matter of factly. "Everyone knows that it's the Seeker that is really the key player, and Krum is the fastest, most brilliant Seeker in the league!"

Harry shook his head and looked at Ron, who was suppressing a snort of laughter with his fist.

"Krum? Ha! That guy's old news, there are way faster and younger Seekers that could beat Krum to the snitch in a heartbeat! If I were you, I'd be hoping that the guy didn't die while trying to out fly all of the younger guys. I don't care what you say, but next week, the Chudley Cannons are going to beat your team, and you're going to come crying to me, begging me not to keep the bet."

George suddenly became interested. "Bet? Why are you betting on a Quidditch game?"

Teddy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, George, the Bulgarians-"

George interrupted him. "No, why are you betting on a Quidditch game? Fred's only seven and you're just about to turn nine!" Teddy puffed out his chest proudly. "Fred, Teddy, you're calling off the bet. Now."

"But Daddy!" Fred protested.

"No but Daddies from you, madam. You're calling off the bet. I don't like my daughter gambling in front of my face, or behind my back for that matter." He looked a little flustered for a moment. "I don't like you gambling, period!"

"But Daddy! You and Uncle Freddy used to bet on everything when you were little! Why can't I?" Harry could tell that she had stuck a nerve on the ever patient George.

"What my brother and I did when we were younger isn't what we're talking about. We've had this discussion before-" Whitney rolled her eyes as Fred cut in.

"But it does! How come you could do it and I can't? It's not fair that you got to!"

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Mrs. Weasley ushered Whitney, Mr. Weasley, Teddy, and toddler James into the kitchen. Ginny, Heather, and Hermione, all pregnant together, followed in suit, their varying sized bellies preceding them to the kitchen.

A tear was forming in George's eye. Harry knew that he was seeing the same thing he had seen in Fred since the moment she had been born: Her dear Uncle Fred's spirit. He could tell from the look on George's face that he wanted nothing better than to let her gamble to her heart's content as long as it meant that he had his brother back. But Harry knew that George knew that letting her do so would only cause even more problems in the long run.

"Fred. Look, I love you, but, sweetheart, you have to understand that what I did in the past was wrong for me to do it. I didn't know it then, or if I did, I chose to ignore it," he added quickly. "But, the point is that I know these things won't be good for either of us. Someday in the far off future, when you have you're older, you'll thank me for this."

He looked lovingly at his daughter, who had angry tears building up behind her blue eyes. She stood and walked away from her father, up the rickety stairs and slammed the door shut to the room that she hid herself in.

Ron stood and put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're only doing your best mate."

George shook his hand off. "But is my best enough?" He walked to the wall where there were several family portraits and stared at a picture of his brother. "What would you have done, Fred?"

Harry went to his side. "I think he would have done the same thing, even if he thought it would be funny to see them fulfill the bets in the end." Harry looked up at the pictures as well, noticing how many pictures of Fred were on the wall. "How many pictures does Dad take, George?"

"What d'you mean?" He asked, looking puzzled.

Harry pointed to various photos with Fred in them. "Well, look! See, he's in all of these pictures!" George peered closely at the pictures, his face turning an ash gray. "George?" He didn't respond, but instead, backed away from the wall shaking his head in horror.

"It can't be!" He muttered.

Ron went to his side. "George, what can't be?" He just repeated himself. Harry and Ron, in horror, took him to a chair, sitting him down, where he continued to stare at the wall.

"George?" Harry said again, shaking him from his stupor.

"Harry. Look at the pictures."

"What?"

"Please, look at them!" Harry complied, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing. Ron joined him at the wall, peering at the pictures as well. Harry looked from picture to picture, spotting several that had been taken the year before. He smiled as mini Harry and Ginny were giggling at baby James in their picture.

In the adjacent photograph, he saw another miniature Harry and Ginny waving at him, only this time, accompanied by the rest of the Weasley family. Ron was standing directly next to Harry, arms around the other's shoulders. Ginny and Hermione were playing with bouncing baby James. Mrs. Weasley was fussing about Bill's hair, while Charlie and Percy laughed and Fleur stood by his side, defending him. Victoire was yelling something at Teddy. Apparently he had done something to her hair, which had turned lavender. Mr. Weasley and Whitney were doing some sort of weird tango, along with George and Heather. And there was Fred. She was seemingly alone, sad, and looking like some sort of outcast. She was looking about her for some reason. The Harry outside of the frame exchanged a bewildered look with Ron, who had been looking at the same picture with him, then looked back to the photograph just in time. Suddenly, a figure appeared out of nowhere, unnoticed by any of the other occupants of the picture. He went to Fred and embraced her tightly.

Harry turned to Ron just in time to see him turn the same shade of gray that George had. He looked from one Weasley to the other, then back at the picture to see Fred and Fred doing the same strange dance that the other Weasleys were doing.

Harry looked from the picture to the one directly above it. It was taken about six years before. Teddy was on Harry's shoulders, his hair bright blue. Ron and Hermione were looking lovingly at each other. Harry remembered that that was the year that they had just gotten married. Mrs. Weasley was busying herself with Charlie, who had been looking rather beaten up that day due to a recent encounter with dragons. Percy and Bill were discussing something, the entire time Bill with his arm around Fleur who was holding tight to toddler Victoire's hand. Heather and George were holding Whitney and Fred, both tiny for one year olds. Fred was in the picture again, only, hanging over his brother's shoulder and tickling Fred on the chin.

"He's in there. But, how can that be?" Harry asked, turning away from the photos. "Can people walk from photo to photo?"

Ron swallowed. "No. They can't."

There was a sudden thud from upstairs. The three of them hurried up to see what was going on. They didn't even make it to the first landing when they saw the door to Fred and George's old room knocked off of its hinges. They rushed into the room and found Fred lying on the floor, her Beater's bat in hand and a miniature bludger whizzing about the room. But she wasn't alone. A pure white dust clouded figure looked up from her side. Fred stood and held out his dusty arms to embrace his brother, but the instant that George found the strength to move, a gust of wind blew him away.