Ten Years Later…

I awoke to the sound of dozens of voices, yelling excitedly; there were so many of them mingling together that I couldn't make out any particular conversation. I sat up quickly, bonking my head on the low ceiling of my loft.

"I'm getting way too big for this," I grumbled, crawling down into the living space. Our trailer seemed to get smaller and smaller all the time; I was always thankful when it was time to ship off to Hogwarts, where I had a real bed, living room, and bathroom. I saw that the front window was opening, revealing a huge crowd of people scurrying about outside.

I wonder where we are, I thought, curiously opening the front door and stepping outside into the blinding sun. I winced until my eyes adjusted, examining my new surroundings. It seemed our trailer had found a resting place in some sort of campsite; we were surrounded by tents of all shapes and sizes. Perhaps it was a family reunion of some kind?

I blinked, "Where in the world…"

"Good morning, my love," my mother said. She had set up a little table outside of our house, and draped it with bright, colorful cloths that were almost as flamboyant as her outfit. She'd put up a sign that read, Fortune telling: six sickles.

"Where are we?" I asked her.

"I don't know, sweetheart," she said dreamily. "But I've been making good money so far."

I sighed; I should have known better than to ask her. My mother could care less about our location, as long as she was happy there. Exact geographical location never seemed to be a concern of hers.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder, and a clear, confident voice asked, "Excuse me, but could I interest you in some Ton-Tongue Toffee? Or perhaps some Canary Creams?"

"No, thank you," I said, slowly turning around, hoping that I could at least ask the salesman where I was.

I jumped again when I saw who I was speaking to, but this was a happy, elated jump. I found myself face-to-face with Fred Weasley; the smirk on his face told me that he was satisfied with my reaction. His twin brother George stood next to him, holding up a large briefcase full of products, which appeared to be of a questionable nature, and quite heavy. Both boys were tall, with a freckled face and a head of flaming red hair that looked like it hadn't seen a pair of scissors all summer.

"Fred!" I squealed, throwing my arms around him. He laughed, nearly falling over as he returned the embrace. "I've missed you so much!"

"Aww, shucks Lola," he said, rubbing my back. "I missed you, too."

"Oh, it's nice to see you, too," George said, closing the case and setting it on the ground. "Me? Why, thank you so much for asking! I'm doing swell-"

I rolled my eyes as I let go of Fred, "Come here, you," I snarled, grabbing George by the front of his shirt and pulling him into a hug. The three of us laughed as George lifted me into the air for a few moments, spinning me around a couple of times.

"Bloody hell, wherever you've been, you've sure gotten fat," he said, placing me back on the ground gently.

"And you've acquired an even more unique sense of fashion," Fred added, pointing to my PJs, which consisted of boxer shorts and ratty old t-shirt. "Very grunge, I like it."

I snickered, "Yeah, I've been going for that just-rolled-out-of-bed look. It's very popular in France right now."

"Is that where you've been all summer?" George asked.

"We were there for a while," I sighed. "And we spent some time in Germany and Mexico, too."

"You've been getting around," Fred teased, pinching my cheek. "Did you get us anything?"

"Maybe," I said, my voice muffled by his hand. "Where are we right now, anyway?"

"You're joking, right?" they said together, raising their eyebrows.

"Let's pretend for a second that I'm not," I said. "If that were the case, what would your answer be?"

They both laughed, but George was the one who answered my question, "We're at the Quidditch World Cup, of course."

I nodded, not particularly excited about it, "Ah, I see. That would explain all the tents, I suppose…"

"We've unloaded almost half of our stock," George said, patting the large case with pride. "We're also going to rake in a nice profit with a few bets we've made."

"You're gambling?" I questioned, not that I was particularly surprised…

"Of course," Fred said, as if this question trumped my last, as far as stupidity goes. "What good are sports if you can't bet on them?"

I sighed, unable to come up with a good response. I was never a big sports fan; I only went to the school Quidditch games because Fred, George, and some of our other friends were on the team.

"You'll help us go over our figures when the game is over, of course," Fred said. It wasn't a request, or a command; it was a statement of fact.

"Of course," I said. Of the three of us, I was the best with numbers. The twins always joked that when they finally opened their joke shop, I would be in the back room crunching numbers. They'd probably talk me into it, somehow…

"What are you doing, Ms. Harper?" George asked, leaning around to speak to my mother.

"I'm telling fortunes," she said, without that dreamy, airy tone her voice usually had. She was convinced the Weasley twins were a physical manifestation of my thirteen-curse, because they always seemed to get me into trouble. I'm not sure if she disliked them, but she was always extremely cautious when they were around.

"Cool," Fred said, marching up to the table. "Mind telling me my fortune?"

"For seven sickles," she said, pointing to the sign.

Fred reached into his pocket, biting down on his lip with concentration. Finally, he pulled out his hand, unfolding his fist in front of his face. He counted his money thoughtfully, "How about… four sickles, some every-flavor beans, and some pocket lent?"

"I'll cover the rest," George offered, fishing some coins out of his own pocket.

"I'm going to go inside and change," I said, smiling like a maniac. It was always hard not to smile when I was with Fred and George. Unless I was the victim of their latest prank, but even then, it was difficult to stay mad at them for too long.

When I re-emerged from the trailer, I was wearing a pair of tight-fitted jeans and a short, poncho-style dress I'd gotten at a little shop in Mexico. I'd tugged my messy, pepper-colored hair into a sloppy bun, and stuck my wand behind my ear. As always, my feet were bare.

When I glanced over, I found that my mother was already done reading Fred's fortune, and had moved on to George. She held his lanky, pale hand in hers, and her eyes were closed in concentration.

Fred stepped over to me and whispered, "No offence, but I think you're mum's a little cuckoo, Lola."

I chuckled, "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"No, I mean it," he said. "Some of the things she says…"

I looked up at him – the twins were both a good head taller than me – finding his expression uncharacteristically grave and his face even paler than normal.

I gulped, "What did she tell you?"

"Oh, it isn't important," said Fred, trying to laugh it off.

My mother's eyes snapped opened, so quickly that all three of us jumped. She leaned forward, looking George square in the eye as she said, very seriously, "You should wash behind your ears."

"My ears?" George gulped. His cheeks were starting to turn red. The hand my mother wasn't holding onto slowly made its way up to the side of his face, caressing his lobe.

"Yes," my mother said. "Your ears, my pet. Someday, you may not be able to!"

"Um… thanks, Ms. Harper," George said, pulling his hand away. "That was very… insightful. I'll keep your advice in mind."

"Alright, let's go," Fred said, clapping his hands together. Whatever my mother said to him must have been very disturbing; normally he was always in favor of sticking around and messing with her head a bit. "We need to get back to the tent before the game starts. Lola, would you be a doll and grab the briefcase?"

"Do I have a choice?" I groaned, though I knew what the answer would be before I even dared to utter the question.

"Nope," the twins said together.

"If you want to sit in our family's reserved seating, you'll have to carry your weight," George said, flicking my nose playfully.

"You're just glad you don't have to lug this bloody thing around anymore," I said, grabbing onto the handle. When I lifted it, I found that it wasn't quite as heavy as I had imagined, but it was still quite the load.

He laughed, "You can say that again! My back is killing me."

"I'll see you later, mum," I said, waving at my mother, who was stuffing her long, thin pipe with flavored tobacco.

"Don't wander too far, my love," she said. She always said that when I left. Even when I was boarding the train for Hogwarts, she would tell me not to wander off too far. Sometimes I wondered if she even noticed I was gone while I was at school, or when I was spending time with the Weasley's during the summer (which, much to my displeasure, I had missed out on that year).

"Wow, you're really good at that, Lola," Fred said, draping his arm across my shoulder.

"Maybe we should have you carry all of our stuff from now on," George agreed, mimicking his brother's gesture.

"Not happening," I grunted. "It's harder to carry this thing if you're leaning on me, you know."

"Oh, sorry," they said, removing their arms together.

It took a lot of weaving through the large crowd, but eventually we reached the Weasley family tent. I knew which one it was right away; Arthur and Bill Weasley were both sitting outside, chatting together in the hot summer sun.

"Hey, Daddy!" Fred called childishly as he and George ran ahead, while I continued to struggle.

"Look at what we found!" George said, pointing at me. He hopped up and down excitedly. "Can we keep her, please?"

"We promise to feed her and wash her and love her forever," Fred pouted.

Mr. Weasley looked up, smiling broadly when he saw me, "I donno…"

"Please, Mr. Weasley?" I begged, mustering up one of the best fake whimpers I'd ever heard. "I'm house trained and everything."

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt," he decided. "It's good to see you again, Lola."

I grinned, "It's good to see you again as well, sir."

"I see Fred and George already have you doing their dirty work," Bill said, nodding towards the case I was still lugging around.

"Yeah," I shrugged, finally dropping the dreadful thing. I had a bit of a childhood crush on Bill Weasley; seeing him now - with his long red hair and pierced ear – made the little girl inside me squeal with delight.

"Pft," Fred scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "You know you like it."

"What have you been up to, Lola?" Bill asked, pushing a few stray strands of hair out of his face. "Have you been having a good summer?"

I nodded, "Mum and I have been bumming around the continent, mostly. We spent a lot of time in France."

"Ah, qui sonne comme un moment très agreeable," said Bill, his accent just as good as any I had heard in France. "Avez-vous visité tous les musées?"

"Um… sure," I said, laughing nervously. "If you say so."

He laughed, "You're a hoot and a half, Lola."

"Yeah," George said flatly. "She's a riot."

Fred nodded, "A real good time at parties, too."

"You guys are just jealous because everyone likes me more than you," I said, waving them off.

"… Alright, we'll go with that interpretation," said Fred.

Mr. Weasley chuckled, holding open the door – which was little more than a flap of cloth – open for us. "Come on in; everyone's getting painted up for the game."

"Thank you, kind sir," I said, bowing before I stepped into the tent.