Chapter 8:
Molly collapsed into a chair. Ron and Hermione had gone home, even after all her attempts to delay their leaving. She felt alone, more alone than she had felt in a long time. She wished she could still have her children with her.
She sat and thought, remembering some of the happiest times in her life.
Fred and George were seven years old that day. April the First, April-Fools Day. Molly was whistling at the stove, while cooking the full English breakfast. Even at that age, Fred and George had the appetites of grown men. Molly was happily cracking eggs into a frying pan, four other pans containing sausages, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms gently sizzling away, when Percy stormed downstairs in an obvious rage.
Eight years of age, approaching nine, Percy was still the most serious of the children, and his horn-rimmed glasses seemed far to big for his thin face. He was furious, it was clear, and Molly stepped back from her cooking, not before making sure nothing would burn for the twin's birthday breakfast, of course.
"What's wrong, Percy dear?"
He looked so angry she could imagine steam coming from his ears. "Fred and George! They put a gnome in my bed!" he shouted, his voice shaking with uncontrollable rage. "Imagine the shock I got when I woke up with one of them jumping on my stomach?"
Molly sighed; Percy was right, it couldn't have been anyone other than Fred and George.
"Just calm down, love," she soothed. "It's not the end of the world. In two years you'll be at Hogwarts without the twins. It will all be fine then, won't it?"
He breathed deeply. "Yes, you're right," he said, but at the sight of the twins in question bounding down the stairs, their fiery red hair falling over their identical blue eyes, he got angry again. "Explain yourselves, both of you!" he said with the tone of a strict headteacher. "Why did you put a gnome in my bed?"
"What do you mean, Perce?" said Fred, his mouth open in faux astonishment.
"Yeah, I think you need more sleep," said George severely. "You're talking rubbish, it's not like you."
Percy began to shake, his face turning rapidly from bright red to purple.
"Don't...say...I'm...talking...rubbish." he snarled through gritted teeth, swelling up like a balloon. As he stormed out of the room, Molly saw out of the corner of her eye the twins grin and give each other a high five.
"Boys," she said, keeping her voice calm, although she had an urge to laugh. "You know you must stop tormenting Percy, you'll drive him mad."
George gazed up at his mother with a look of innocence. "Oh, but it's so..."
"...hilarious." Fred finished. With that the twins snorted in unison and sank into a fit of laughter.
"Happy Birthday, anyway," Molly said. "I cooked you an extra special breakfast!"
"Birthday?" Fred said, looking puzzled.
"It's not our birthday, Mum," George continued. "Are you feeling okay?" He reached his hand forward and held it against his mother's forehead with an expression of worry.
Molly felt her heart drop to her stomach. How could she possibly get her twins' birthday wrong? She was about to stammer her apologies when the twins grinned and said:
"April Fools!"
Molly sighed in exasperation. You two! You'll be the death of me, I swear."
"Oh, but Mum, life would be so boring without us," George wheezed, laughing uncontrollably.
"And that, Mother, was by far our best yet!" laughed Fred.
"Well, since it's your birthday, I'll forget it." She looked at the faces of her twin sons and her heart softened. "Happy Birthday." She hugged then both and thanked the heavens for blessing her with Fred and George.
Molly could feel her eyes welling up at the thought of the twins at seven. They even had their sense of humour then; their mischief was as clever and light hearted as it would always be. Well, it would always of been, if Fred hadn't been murdered.
The thought of how much the Battle had changed the twins and, indeed the whole family, made Molly break down once more. Fred had gone, and he wasn't coming back. George had lost his twin, his best friend. Nothing could change that, and Molly knew deep down that George would never get over it.
George followed Eideard through the woods for what seemed like hours. They were travelling yet further north and George was no shivering with the cold; meanwhile, Eideard seemed completely unaffected by the weather- in fact he was whistling and swinging his arms, completely at ease.
Eventually George noticed the trees were thinning out, and it wasn't long after he noticed this that they reached a clearing. George's breath was took away by the sight: the trees around the clearing were adorned with lights that emitted a soft, glowing aura; there were about ten small buildings lining the clearing, all made of beautifully intertwined strips of willow. The trees were capped with snow, but unlike the wild of the woods, the snow was magically glittering from the light of a small number of slowly flying, white orbs that pulsed eerily from a bright to a dim white light. Fireflies floated lazily around his head like tiny specks of dust.
George had never been so stunned by beauty such as this. His mouth hung open and he didn't even notice a woman approach him.
"Eideard tells me your name is George," she said in a strange, soft voice. "That isn't a name from around here. I'm Alva, and if I were you I'd tell me your intentions now, if you want to live."
George felt nervous around this woman- she had a powerful presence that he had never experienced before. "I... I came here to find out something that is really important to me... I heard the legend of Aislinn Lìos, and I came to ask about it..."
The witches face softened. "You've lost someone." It wasn't a question.
George nodded. "My twin. Please, tell me you can help me."
The witch sighed. "I'm sorry, George, I really am. The legend is just that- a legend. I wish I could help you, but I can't."
The split in George's heart cracked deeper. He had lost his only hope. He turned away, tears silently trickling down his face. He could see the mouths of the tribes-people moving, but he heard no words. He ran out of the clearing into the depths of the wild; he ran and ran until he had no strength left and collapsed onto his knees.
"I'm sorry, Fred. I've failed you," he whispered into the night.
"You'll never fail me," said an almost inaudible voice through the wind."
"No, Fred, stop it!" he cried, desperately clamping his hands over his ears, blocking the voice he neither wanted to hear or lose. "I am sorry, I am, I am!"
"I'm sorry too, George."
A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me a bit longer than I anticipated to update. I went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows yesterday, who else thinks its absolutely amazing? If anyone hasn't seen it, I recommend it. I'm planning on going to see it again soon...
Please review, if not to comment on the story but to comment on the film, if you've seen it. Who else loved Fred and George in the film? George's losing ear scene was amazing... is it wrong that I almost cried?
And DOBBY? Oh my, I found it very difficult not to cry. RIP Hedwig, Dobby and Mad-Eye. I will miss you all.
