Something felt off.

Mrs. Weasley stuck her head into the room, looking frantic and harassed. "Alright, everyone, we're eating in five minutes! Oh, the rolls are burning and the stuffing---and go find Bill and Fleur!" she snapped, before hurrying out of the room.

George and Ginny, who had been playing Exploding Snap, threw down their cards on the table (BANG! "Oops. Ah, well, we can just repaint that...") and started toward the door. George turned back at the threshold. "Hey, you comin', Fred?"

"Huh?" He snapped out of his daze. "Oh...yeah."

Fred got up and followed his brother and sister slowly out of the room. On the way downstairs, George paused to bang loudly on the broom closet door.

"OI! You two stop snogging, it's time for Thanksgiving dinner!"

There was a slight squeal from Fleur as the twins set back off downstairs. George turned back to Fred and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, mate? You seem...funny. By which I mean uncharacteristic cheerless."

"...Yeah," Fred said, reaching the bottom floor just as Ginny and Tonks were hugging at the door and wishing each other a "Happy Thanksgiving." He frowned. "George, does something seem...off, today?"

"Like what?"

"Dinner in two minutes! Anyone who's not sitting at the table is going hungry! And where is your father?!"

"He and Remus are out de-gnoming the garden!" Charlie called, just as he was coming in. He stuck his head back out. "Dad, Mum says it's time to eat!"

"Hey, Mum, where do we sit?"

"You and George sit across from Ginny, the usual---no, Tonks, please, I can get it myself---"

CRASH!

"Oh! Sorry, Molly---"

"I'll get it, Mum---Reparo---"

Charlie pointed his wand; the dish flew back into Mrs. Weasley's hands, but the casserole was a mess all over the floor. "It's alright," Mrs. Weasley sighed, as Tonks got to work magicking up the mess. "I made another..."

George grinned at the chaos of the kitchen as he took his seat beside Fred, who was still looking strangely pensive. George frowned and gave him a playful punch in the arm. "Hey, lighten up, mate."

"Would somebody please go and tell everybody that it is time for dinner NOW?!" Mrs. Weasley screamed. "ARTHUR!"

"I'll be in in a moment, dearest!"

Ginny rose from her place. "I'll go get Harry---"

"Here I am," he said, entering the kitchen.

"What about Ron and Hermione, where are they?" Charlie asked, setting out plates.

"Probably upstairs, having hot, angry bondage sex," George said absentmindedly, taking a sip of his drink.

Harry, who also happened to be drinking, suddenly spat butterbeer over half the plates that Charlie had just put down. "They are not!" he choked. "I was just with them two minutes ago!"

"Ooh, kinky."

"You're a very disturbed individual, you know that?"

"Oh, you sound just like Mum."

Harry shook his head. Then he frowned. "Fred? Are you feeling alright?"

"He's gone mental."

"Well, I'm sorry, but doesn't something just feel---wrong today?"

George thought for a moment. "Is it the fact that I just applied the word 'kinky' to our little brother's sex life?"

"No! Well, yes, but other than that?"

"...Is it that you're supposed to be dead by this point?"

"Am I?" Fred frowned. What year was this? "Harry?"

"Yes?" He turned away from Ginny, with whom he had just been conversing.

"Have you at last brought about the final and ultimate defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named yet and freed the Wizarding world from years of tyranny and oppression?"

He blinked. "What? No. Not yet, anyway."

"Okay, then it can't be that, then," Fred muttered, turning back to George. "What could it..."

"Outside, playing with gnomes, while I'm inside working my fingers to the BONE?!"

"Agh! Molly, love, please---"

Mrs. Weasley dragged Mr. Weasley into the kitchen by the ear, Remus following timidly behind them. Mrs. Weasley threw her husband roughly into his chair and turned, hands on her hips, to scream "EVERYBODY WHO'S NOT DOWN HERE IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS IS GOING HUNGRY UNTIL CHRISTMAS!"

"We're here, we're here!" Ron cried, running into the kitchen with Hermione racing behind.

"Hey, you two. Have fun upstairs?" George asked, wriggling his eyes in a suggestive sort of way.

Ron frowned as he slid into the seat between Hermione and Harry. "Um...sure?"

George and Ginny sniggered. Fred, for once, was passing up an opportunity to laugh at Ron's expense; he was still staring off into space and trying to think. What was it that was bothering him so much?!

Bill and Fleur came in, both with clothes and hair disheveled; she took her place while he went to go help his mother and Charlie set out the food. Remus and Tonks took their seats to Mad-Eye's left ("Why we bother to invite him when he won't eat any of my cooking is beyond me..." Mrs. Weasley muttered, sotto voce). Was somebody important missing? Fred wondered. No...well, except Percy, but again, nobody important. Damn it, this had been bothering him all day, what was it?!

"Alright! Everybody sit down, and dinner is served."

As Charlie and Bill took their places Mrs. Weasley came into the room, levitating a platter with a mammoth turkey before her. "Mmm," Mr. Weasley said, licking his lips. "Looks delicious, Molly."

"Yeah, and I'm starving," Ron said, just as his stomach gave a loud and obvious lurch.

"Alright, everybody tuck in, then!" George cried gleefully, and immediately everybody started to grab at the rolls, stuffing, cranberry and meat.

"No, no, no!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, and suddenly about a dozen hands found themselves smacked on the knuckles by the matriarch's wand. "We're going to do this right!" She took her seat beside her husband and straightened out her skirt. "Now, first we all have to go around the table and talk about what we're thankful for."

"I'm thankful we finally get to eat, woman!"

"George, I am your mother and you will not take that tone with me!"

"Well, I'm thankful that nobody important to me has died this year...yet."

"Give it 'til June, mate."

"Well, I am thankful zat I 'ave finally found my soulmate," Fleur said, and she and Bill began to cuddle together and Eskimo-kiss in a truly revolting way. George and Ginny turned away to shove their fingers down their throats.

"I'm thankful for all the wonderful work you've done putting this all together, dear."

"Thank you, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said loftily, smiling for the first time.

"Well," said Hermione, "I'm thankful that---"

"---Ron forgot the safety word halfway through?"

Now it was Ron's turn to spit butterbeer all over the table. "What?!"

"George!"

"Safety word? What's that?" Mad-Eye asked, magical eye zooming around the table, disfigured face frowning in confusion.

"Oh," said Tonks, leaning across Remus to him. "See, it's like when---"

"Uh, Dora? This might not be the best time," Remus muttering, easing her back into a sitting position.

"Alright, enough thankfulness," Mr. Weasley said quickly, hoping to avoid a row. "Let's eat!"

"Here, here!"

The sounds of clinking silverware and requests for aid filled the room as everyone (save Fred) gathered heaping helpings of turkey and the trimmings onto their plates.

"Mmm...oh, Molly, this is delish."

"Thank you, Tonks."

"Oh! Fleur, you have to try Mum's sweet potato casserole," Bill said, feeding her a bit from his plate.

"Mmm. C'est tres bien, Molly!"

"Could somebody please pass the rolls?"

"Here you are, Arthur..."

While the others ate, Fred continued to look down at his empty plate, occasionally glancing up at the rest of the family. He just about had it, he just couldn't...

"Great turkey, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.

"You know, I read somewhere that they didn't really even eat turkey on the first Thanksgiving," Tonks said conversationally, taking a bite of the succulent meat.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I read somewhere that the Pilgrims actually cooked venison---"

Fred looked up, startled. "Pilgrims...?"

"Well, I'm glad I don't have to cook that every year, it's hard enough finding a good turkey big enough for this family---"

"Heh, maybe Harry could just whip out his Patronus, Mum, are those edible?"

"Pilgrims..."

Fred's face was slack, but mind was worked feverishly. Pilgrims. Pilgrims, the first Thanksgiving...Indians...the Mayflower, crossing the Atlantic Ocean---

"THAT'S IT!" Fred screamed. "I'VE GOT IT!"

"Huh?" said George.

"Got what?" Harry blinked from across the table.

"That's what's been bugging me! Pilgrims, Thanksgiving---we don't live in America! Why are we celebrating Thanksgiving when we're BRITISH?"

Fred held his arms out, face flushed with the excited revelation. The others all froze, staring at him in amazement.

Then, with a loud POP!, all the turkey, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes and pie disappeared in a puff of logic.

Everybody remained frozen for a moment. Then Mrs. Weasley spoke.

"Well, thank you, Fred. Thank you very much for ruining yet another holiday for us!"

"But I---I just---"

"Great," said Ginny moodily, throwing down her perfectly clean fork that had, mere moments before, had a great glob of buttery mashed potatoes headed for her mouth. "Now what are we going to eat?"

"Oh, well, don't worry, I'll just go cook something else after slaving over a hot stove for eight hours!" Mrs. Weasley screamed, throwing down the empty pot she had been about to pass to Harry and getting to her feet. "Thank you, Fred, really, for all this extra work!"

"I---"

"Yeah, thanks," George grumbled, crossing his arms.

Bill glared. "We only get that casserole once a year."

"But I---" He looked helplessly from one ticked-off face to another.

"I can't believe this! Every holiday, you have to ruin!" Mrs. Weasley screamed, disappearing into the kitchen. "This is just like last year's Fourth of July barbecue, I swear..."