Do I Want To Know?
A news story in the Daily Prophet is mysteriously close to home for George Weasley and family. One-shot, next gen.
For Tristan, who helped me write it.
"There's a local story in the paper," said George as the last strains of the closing music for 'A Question of Quidditch' faded away.
Angelina drew her wand and flicked the wireless off. "Oh? The Fawcetts won the Daily Prophet Prize Draw, or Xeno Lovegood blown his house up again?"
"Neither." George spread out the paper more carefully, and began to read it out. "'Residents of the Ottery St Catchpole area were today startled to see an unidentified flying object circling over the village and surrounding fields. Although Mr Xenophilius Lovegood was able to take the above picture, the mysterious object had vanished by the time Ministry investigators arrived on the scene. Fortunately, it had been seen by only two muggles, namely a small boy who thought it was a "Ewe-Eff-Oh", and an old lady. Their memories have been accordingly modified. The Ministry is not treating the matter as a serious breach of the International Statute of Secrecy and a spokeswizard speaking to the Prophet afterwards describing it as probably "a prank." However, they would still welcome any witch or wizard who has further information to come forward.'
The picture," George added, peering forwards, "shows something that looks remarkably like a … wheelbarrow."
Angelina walked over and peered herself. "It looks like our wheelbarrow. With the permanently flat tire and the stripy blue and red handles where Roxy and Fred painted it and each other last summer. And..." she bent right down and squinted, "there's a broomstick handle sticking off the back, and a bunch of fingers along the edge of the barrow..."
Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at each other. Then George rose, folded the paper to have the relevant sheet outwards, and went into the hall.
"Fred! Roxy!"
"Yes Daddy?"
George spun round. He had called up the stairs, but two pictures of innocence had just emerged from the playroom. "Weren't you two in bed?" he queried, feeling slightly out of step.
"We were supposed to be," said Fred with careful honesty.
George opened his mouth, shut it again, and felt he fully realised why his father had so often taken off his glasses and polished them before attempting to deal with any children. Lacking glasses to polish, he attempted to get to the point. "There's a rather local news story in the Prophet."
Two pairs of round, innocent eyes stared up at him.
"Oh, Daddy?" Roxy prompted after a moment.
"A mysterious flying object," George ploughed on. "Which looks awfully like our wheelbarrow."
"Really, Daddy?"
George took a deep breath. "Do I want to know anything more about this?"
Roxy stepped forwards, and slipped the sheet with the photograph carefully off the newspaper. "No, Daddy," she said firmly. "You really don't."
~:~:~