Disclaimer: I do not, never have and never will own Harry Potter, no matter what I wish.
A/N: I hate to beg, but reviews are welcome, since I any bit of constructive criticism helps. That being said, I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 3
The next time that they woke again, they were alone.
"Well," Fred said, looking at their surroundings. "I don't think that we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."
"And I think," George retorted absently as he sat up to look around, "That we're spending entirely too much time in the muggle world. Your jokes are terrible."
"Why, brother!" Obviously Fred was feeling better, which was what George had truly wanted to know. "I'm wounded! Hurt, shocked and offended! You almost sounded like Percy!"
"As long as it wasn't Ron," George returned, and they both shuddered theatrically, despite the fact that no one else was around. It had been a long-held opinion between the two of them that if they couldn't act something up, it was because they were dead. They had yet to be proven wrong.
At the moment, neither of them could help but stare at their surroundings. It seemed to be some sort of lounge area, with a beaten-up couch and armchair not far from the pull-out couch that they were still laying on, all on some sort of indoor balcony that over-looked a large common area. All around were dusty bookshelves literally stacked with old-looking books and oddities that neither of them had ever seen. In the air, motes of dust danced in the golden light.
At the foot of the bed, they found a pile of clothes each (jeans, boxers, t-shirt and socks) and a piece of paper with directions to the nearest bathroom, and they took these, bickering good-naturedly all the while.
The walk was an eye-opener. The twins had been absolutely certain before that point that they would never see a place more convoluted than Hogwarts, but this "house" certainly took the cake. Odd-sized corridors, large open spaces, tiny cramped towers an halls that didn't lead where they were supposed to…all filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves that were stacked with each and every kind of knick-knack imaginable. Even with directions, they still got lost four times on their way to the nearest set of bathrooms.
As soon as they were finished their baths and were adequately dressed, they were confronted by the pushiest house-elf that either had ever seen. It was immediately apparent how he had gotten the name "Nodder"; he listened quietly to everything they said, nodding all the while. Then he immediately ignored it, and before long, he had called for "Master Jamie". "Master Jamie" listened carefully to the elf's quiet babbling, poked George in the ribs once, and sent for a healer.
The Healer, who was nothing like the two-knut healers that the twins had been frequenting for the past few years, as they found out two minutes after his rather prompt arrival, and he wasted no time in awing them with his sharp tongue. For the first time in years, the two meekly sat on the edge of their seats and answered the man's questions, feeling more than a bit like first years. Then, the old man had touched their foreheads, and when the twins woke again, they were feeling better than they had in years.
After that, they just gave up on trying to figure out what was going on. It seemed easier that way, especially as they seemed to have completely free reign of both the grounds and the house. If they showed up in the kitchens, there was food. In the bathroom, hot water and clean clothes. And no one was ever inconsiderate to actually make their beds once they had left them early in the morning. Even Jamie was completely different than expected, although the twins had figured that they should have at least expected that much.
When they had known him, the boy had been sharp, intelligent, and more than a little moody. Now, if they hadn't seen his scar first hand, they would never have suspected the connection, or even any connection at all. This man, "Jamie"(and wasn't it just the oddest thing to find themselves calling him that now), was still every bit as smart as they remembered, but it seemed that the intervening years had beat all the hot-headedness out of him, and managed to make him a lot easier to get on with. George didn't need to hear Fred say it to know that his twin was having more fun here than he'd had in five years, and to be quite honest, he agreed. He didn't know how the hell "Jamie" had managed to find this place, but it was like a dream come true.
Well, it was like their dream come true, anyways.
Here, nobody was after their hides for some wrong, real or imagined (and most of them actually had the benefit of being real), and not only did they have free reign of the house and yards, but company that they didn't mind sharing it with either. Even Nodder, despite being the pushiest house elf that either could ever remember meeting, was surprisingly good company, being frighteningly intelligent, and with none of the oddness that had characterized Dobby. Cassie, to whom they had been introduced as soon as they were awake long enough to see her, was evidently Jamie's adopted sister, and evidently very lonely, as she spent almost every waking hour in their presence. Somehow, despite the fact that she was only sixteen, the girl had managed to come up with what seemed to be more common sense than Hermione had ever dredged up, and had an interesting, if cutting sense of humour as well. That and the fact that she helped with the dogs, horses and whatever other animals were in the stables or yards seriously impressed even Fred, to the point where he was actually willing to admit it, something that didn't actually happen all that frequently anymore.
Then again, it might also have something to do with the fact that she could tell them apart, which was something that not even their mother had ever managed on a regular basis. The first time that it had happened, actually, they had passed it off as blind luck. They did the same the second time as well. It wasn't until the third consistent "guess" that they decided that she might actually know, and to be quite honest it had been frightening. At least it had been until she had grinned and pointed a finger at her brother in explanation. Somehow, neither of the twins had any difficulty believing that he had any trouble at all telling which was which, since he could do it even while he was still at Hogwarts.
That didn't stop them from going outside to sulk for the rest of the day.
"We need to talk," George said bluntly, as they slipped into the small room that was currently serving as Jamie's reading room.
Jamie merely flipped a page and raised an eyebrow, all the while managing not to look at them. "You've made a decision then?" he asked, seemingly boredly.
Both George and Fred flinched, knowing perfectly well that they'd done no such thing. If they were going to be completely honest, and they weren't, they'd have to admit that they were enjoying their time away from the world far too much to want to decide on that one. Unfortunately, they also had responsibilities, and one of the few things that they had learned over the past few years was that Dumbledore did not appreciate tardiness when it came to reports, no matter how good the reason was.
Still, they had no idea how to broach the subject with Jamie, seeing as how Dumbledore had been the one advocating putting him in Azkaban all those years ago.
"You want to send a letter to the order of the Flaming Chicken, don't you?"
God damn it. Why couldn't the man have been born a moron? It would have made life so much easier.
"Well…yeah," Fred mumbled.
"Go ahead."
They stared at him blankly, honestly not having expected that reaction, out of all possible scenarios.
"What?" George finally managed.
Jamie snorted. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending that you don't remember the conversation that we had when you first came here. Is that all you wanted to ask?"
"Actually…"
Fred smacked him upside the head to shut them up, and that had been that. At least until the owl that they had sent off had come back, literally reeling in the air.
"It almost makes one wonder what part of 'We're fine, don't come and find us' is really so hard to understand," Fred remarked, almost casually.
James Evinson did not look pleased.
