A/N: Ravenclaw, Prefect, Short, "Overcoming the odds"; "freak snowstorm". W/C: 1595
The war had long since ended and many of the families that had lost loved ones in battle now found that they'd gained more people than they'd had before. Of course, no one could replace a loved one, but it was a little easier to remember them when one had a new family there too. For Mrs Weasley, that new family included five new children, as most of her surviving children married. Then it expanded further and included twelve grandchildren. Eventually, that number grew even further as a Malfoy boy was taken in, and of course a certain Lupin that was always more family than friend.
Needless to say, Christmas time at Mrs Weasley's house was an unforgettable experience. Between Mr Weasley's attempts to charm some muggle item and Charlie's efforts to smuggle in a dragon, there was already plenty to worry about, and that wasn't including any of the dozens of guests that would arrive every year, ready to love, live, and remember together.
However, as Mrs Weasley grew older, so did the grandchildren and eventually great grandchildren, until it was far too much for the Burrow to handle. The odds of getting everybody together on the right day at the right time were just too slim. That being said, they did still visit. Mrs Weasley made a point of knitting sweaters for each Weasley relative and smiled at the letters she got back talking of how warm they were.
"These could keep us warm through a snowstorm," Ron wrote one year.
When he saw Harry at work, he told him the same thing and Ginny, who was meeting Fleur for tea one day, told her as well. Then Hermione, who had heard from Ron, told Percy. George always seemed to know what was going on and Charlie never did, so no one was too worried about them. Somehow, without ever really planning anything, they all knew what to do.
Arriving in their smaller family units, each of the Weasley children brought each of their spouses and children and grandchildren. Each person wore a familiar sweater, stitched with their initial, and each person over seventeen came prepared with their wand, ready to help with dinner. Hermione also came with various dishes already made.
George was the last to enter the house.
As everyone sat around the dining table, in the living room, and on the staircase, laughing with Mr and Mrs Weasley about the surprise visit they'd all managed to pull off, George stayed outside and thought of his twin. He watched as snowflakes drifted past him, and remembered that no two are exactly alike. He and Fred had thought that was funny when they were so alike themselves, but now George thought it was more bittersweet than anything.
As laughter, Fred's favorite sound, bubbled out of the Burrow, George carefully removed his wand and smiled up at the sky.
"This one's for you, Freddie," he smiled.
He waved his wand and watched as a new smattering of snowflakes poured from the end. Then he shook them free and they poured from the sky instead, quickly dousing George's red hair in a cascade of white powder. He grinned before reaching into an old brown bag at his feet. He'd kept it for just such an occasion as this, and was eager to try it out. The odds of the contents still working were… slim. But he was going to try.
First, he retrieved what looked like an ice cube tray. He threw this into the air and watched as one of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes most uncomfortable products burst, dropping the local temperature several degrees. Then, he found a magic whoopie cushion. Casting a quick engorgement spell and a quieting spell, he made it grow much larger than its regular size and set it off, watching as gusts of wintry air blew the falling snow into torrents. It could only really be described as a blizzard. Finally, he reached into the bag and retrieved the last of one of his favorite fireworks: a dragon.
Memories flooded him and in the midst of an icy storm, George's tears seemed very hot. He vividly remembered flying out of Hogwarts with Fred, setting as many fireworks and dragons off as they could find, and heading into their new life. It was a life full of jokes and laughter, and it was the best sort of life he could imagine. He'd had no idea just how short that life would be.
At some point, after what had seemed like a long time, although all these years on seemed like just a heartbeat, Fred and George had realized that they'd missed one of their famous flaming dragons. In the rush of escaping Hogwarts and then the war that took place just a few years later, there wasn't much time to consider setting it off. George remembered the way Fred had held the firework with a meaningful gleam in his eye.
"Georgie," he'd said in one of his rare moments of seriousness. "You gotta save this one until the right time, okay?"
George, of course, had been confused, and tried to talk his brother out of whatever odd mood he'd found himself in. But Fred had been insistent.
"Save this one," he'd said again.
Somehow, all these years later, George thought a freak storm that kept everyone inside and together, at least for for one last family Christmas, would be exactly the sort of thing Freddie would've wanted. As he set the firework down on the snow, and took a steadying breath, he thought of Fred II. His son was going to love this, and he smiled. He thought of how bloody awesome this was going to be. And then he set it off.
Grinning like a schoolboy again, he made sure the dragon took flight before running inside and innocently taking his seat beside Angelina. It wasn't until the windows were covered that someone noticed the freak storm, and George did his best to stifle his laughter.
"I'd love to see all of us manage out the floo now," he whispered to Angelina. She smirked at him, long since having decided to be his partner-in-crime.
"Well," she said, raising her voice. "I suppose we'll all have to stay here."
At first, Mrs Weasley was just surprised: "Well I never... the odds of this happening now..." Then she smiled. "How warm are your sweaters?" she asked, a teasing tone lightening her voice. "Warm enough for... a snowball fight?"
The room was quiet for a moment as surprise registered with everyone gathered. Mrs Weasley was certainly a playful woman, but no one expected such a show of it on such a momentous occasion as family Christmas. Those were usually reserved for solemn expressions of love, and singing carols off-key.
George couldn't help himself.
He was the first to laugh and he was beaming at his mother when she turned around. He hadn't meant to give himself up so easily, but it was more than worth it.
"You don't want to do that, mum," he snickered, enjoying himself tremendously. "I don't even know what spell I used but they're all old. It could cause all sorts of problems. Blisters, boils, mutations, it's all up in the air at this point."
"Plus there's a dragon," Fred II said, peering out of a window where the snow had been brushed away by the tip of the great beast's firecracker wing. Charlie failed magnificently in looking casual as he darted to the window and quickly joined Fred II in looking outside.
"Right, plus there's a dragon," George confirmed.
"You did this?" Mrs Weasley replied, stunned. The image of her standing there amongst generations of family members, her greying red hair sticking up in every direction, and her Christmas dress dusted in flour and various other holiday cooking stains, was a cherished one. Particularly when she utterly lost her composure. "Fr- George!"
The room was silent again. Fred II looked particularly awkward, having finally gotten old enough to understand why this was such a heavy mistake. Then George laughed. Watching her son giggle at her, Mrs Weasley gave in and laughed too.
"Fred would love this," George snickered. "A freak snowstorm keeps us all locked at home for Christmas, and decades on you still can't tell us apart."
As it turned out, that wasn't the last Weasley Christmas, and it wasn't the last time George found some way to set off some Fred-worthy antics for the holidays. Everyone was more than a little surprised that George had so happily taken on this role, as he'd spent a long time grieving. Mrs Weasley supposed that it was better to remember with family, than to allow the darkness to swallow them up, and Harry suspected that George needed the entertainment just as much as the rest of them did. Nobody had thought it likely that George would ever recover from Fred's death, his own personal storm in a way, and finding joy in pranking again was more than they could've asked for.
In fact, all the Weasleys found something they didn't expect in that first magic blizzard. Mr and Mrs Weasley hadn't expected to enjoy the company of their whole family together for too much longer, but were renewed by the sight of giggling grandchildren, smiling children, and more Christmas sweaters in the same room than anyone really thought possible. Against the odds, it was a snowstorm that kept Christmas in the Burrow, and that was, in Fred and George's mind, the best way to use a prank spell.