Title: Beware of Potions
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: Fred and George create a new product in the summer before their 6th year, but when one of them samples it, they find that it has far different effects than they'd hoped for.
Wow the reviews were amazing! I'll try to reply – let me know if this just ends up being annoying. If you'd rather me put them on my profile page or something, let me know :)
Thanks for the info about the movie! I'm excited to go see it! I'll need to find a "theatre-near-me" and go watch. To those of you that are wondering about the potion, the effects, the lack of action… I hope this chapter helps solve a bit of that. More will be cleared up about that pesky potion later on.
TeamGredandForge – I'm glad you like my rendition of Snape! I need to grab a thesaurus! Drat that man and his extensive vocabulary!
lol Lucy – I'm not sure if I should promise that Fred will live through this story… Do you think the rest of the readers would be upset if I killed him off in the next chapter?
Amanda – I was wondering if it would seem believable or not – I'm having a hard time showing how this potion's affecting him. I can't wait until Snape fixes it! In any event, if you have any ideas, let me know! I am very open to suggestion on this topic so I can make it as good as I can!
Chapter Eleven
George was frozen in place in the hallway outside Ron's room. It seemed as if no one really knew what to do after their dad left. Harry stayed as still as possible with his head bowed low, sitting on Ron's bed. Ron stood nearby with Hermione at his side, both of them silently conversing about what had just happened. George's mum sat next to Harry; one of her hands rested on his back while the other hand covered her mouth to help quell her shock, though George wasn't aware yet of what exactly had been said that would affect her so much. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to know what the black-haired teen had said, either.
Bill seemed to think that someone should say or do something to try and comfort their mother. He said something to Charlie that George didn't catch and then walked into Ron's room. Charlie glanced at George and then walked down the stairs. As he watched Bill put a hand on their mum's shoulder, George faintly heard the familiar sounds of the tea kettle being set up. Meanwhile, Mum had looked up at Bill and nodded at whatever he'd just said. With a reassuring, though slightly preoccupied, pat to Harry's back, she stood and followed Bill down to the kitchen.
Percy moved past George to walk into Ron's room and sit on the bed, although he didn't sit right next to Harry like his mum had. Even though George knew Percy was probably just as worried as everyone else, he saw that his brother still sat up properly and tried to maintain some semblance of composure.
The silence of the room suddenly seemed uncomfortable, and Hermione leaned towards Harry and quietly asked, "Are you alright, Harry?"
Harry shook his head slowly as he stared at the floor. The teen looked paler than even Snape, and George wasn't sure if that was even possible. A sudden urge came over him to find out what Harry had said and the second it hit him, his feet leapt from their frozen position and brought him to stand before Harry.
"What did you say?" George asked abruptly.
Harry looked up at him and shook his head as he replied, "I didn't say anything."
"No, before... What did you say before Dad left?" George clarified as a sense of anxiety started to claw at him. He needed to hear that it was something unrelated to them and, in particular, unrelated to Fred.
Harry bit his lip, knowing that George wouldn't like what he'd heard in his dream, or vision, or whatever it had been. He looked down, not able to meet the intense look George was giving him, and repeated, "He – Voldemort – he mentioned that he…" Harry trailed off, not sure if he wanted to paraphrase or use the exact words that he'd heard. George's stare never left his face, and he finished despite himself, "he said he had one of the Weasleys. He wasn't sure what to do with him…"
George didn't move from the position he was in. Harry's words washed over him and slowly started to sink in. The implications they carried made George feel as if he would drown in them, and he could almost imagine the waves sweeping over him as each possibility formed a terrible and unwanted image in his mind.
He sucked in a tense breath and then quickly questioned Harry, needing to know more about what the boy had seen and heard. "Where are they? Did you see who was there? What about Fred? Did you see him?" He would have launched off several other questions if not for the glares he was receiving from the others in the room.
"George," Percy said carefully, "Dad's gone off to –"
"I don't care what Dad's doing, I want to know!" George shouted, strongly enunciating his words to show how frustrated he was with not knowing what was going on.
Before Percy could come up with a response, Harry looked back up and said, "I don't know where they are; it was some old building, but I didn't recognize anything. I know Voldemort was there," He explained, and then his expression darkened before he finished, "and that rat, Wormtail. I didn't see Fred, I'm sorry."
Harry's quiet and unwarranted apology was ignored by George, who was intent on finding out more about what Harry had seen. Once again he faced Harry and asked, his voice getting louder and louder as he went, "What else was there? Did you see anything written down? What else did they talk about?" George rattled the questions off quickly while Harry shook his head nervously and stuttered out a few words. Percy stood up as if to stop George's barrage of questions and when George just spoke right over him, Hermione took a step towards him.
When she was about five inches away from him, she ground out, "I know that you're worried, George, but this isn't going to help anything. Let Dumbledore talk –"
"I just want…" George stopped there. He felt tears prick at his eyes and blinked quickly to try and dispel them. "I want to help. I want… I want him back…" He barely noticed the expressions on their faces change from defensive to somber. He turned around to leave, realizing that he was quickly losing the battle to keep his haywire emotions in check.
Percy reached out a hand to stop him from leaving and the second he touched him, George spun and had to physically refrain from hitting his brother.
"Don't touch me!" George shouted at him, completely aware that the anger was there to try and hide his despair. Not wanting to permanently dent his older brother's face, he lashed out and threw a fist at Ron's bedroom door. He didn't feel any pain as the wood under his knuckles broke apart. Grabbing the door with his other hand and flinging it all the way open, George stepped out hastily and started to head to his and Fred's room, paying no mind at the moment to how hard it was to be in there without his twin.
He'd made it barely two steps up the stairs before Bill's voice cut through his turbulent thoughts. It took everything he had to just stop where he was and to not turn around and rage at his eldest brother.
"George, what…" Bill started to ask, and then he must have seen his brother's hand. "What happened to your hand?"
George clenched the bloodied fist and pulled it in front of him as he replied, "Nothing."
He heard a sigh behind him and then Bill came to stand next to him so that he could actually look at his brother's face. "George, it's okay to be upset. We're not going to hold it against you. You know that, right?"
He didn't know how Bill always managed to de-escalate tense situations. Maybe it was the tone of his voice? George wasn't sure, but though a part of him was thankful, another part of him really did want to rage and destroy something.
"I know," he answered faintly, not ready to admit to what he'd been thinking. "I just… I want to be alone for a bit." George didn't look at Bill as he said it. He felt more than saw his brother nod and then he resumed his escape up to his room.
The second he walked in and shut the door, he knew he'd made the wrong decision. It was too hard to be alone in this room, knowing that his twin wouldn't be walking in right behind him after, at most, a few moments. Wearily, George sat down on his bed and pulled his knees up to his chest, staring across the room at Fred's bed.
With a forlorn sigh, he lowered his head so that it rested on his knees while trying to fool himself into believing that he wasn't crying. It didn't work.
It was so hard to not have Fred with him. He didn't think he could count the number of times that he had grinned in relief as he looked into one of the household mirrors, turned around to see his brother, and then had to contain the anger he felt at falling for the same trick again. George considered it a miracle that he hadn't broken all the mirrors in the house out of frustration already. He had come very close to doing so the first night he'd been back and, as a result, had been avoiding looking in anything reflective. It dawned on him that he probably looked a lot messier than usual, which may be one of the reasons why his mum had come up to him with a comb the previous morning.
George wished more than anything that he knew where his brother was. He knew now who he was with, and that didn't make the separation any easier. If anything, it made it more… permanent. He shuddered at the idea and raked his hands through his hair in anxiety. He didn't want to even think about it in those terms. There had to be a chance that Fred could come back – nothing was impossible, after all, especially with magic.
Despite the effort to think positively and imagine the good things that could happen, his mind conjured up terrible images of what-if situations. What if they found Fred and he was too injured or otherwise affected. What if they found him and it had simply been too late and he had…? George's shoulders shook, unable to even think the end of that question. What if they never found him? What if they never learned what became of the missing Weasley twin? George would live out his life and never be able to stop searching, because without a confirmation that he could see and touch, he would never be able to believe that he was completely alone.
A sharp pang stung the top of his head and he realized that he was pulling his hair out. Part of him didn't care much that he now had a few hairs less while another part wanted to rip the rest of them out. George breathed in the familiar scents of the room and lifted his head up, wiping his face on his sleeves. As he surveyed his surroundings, taking in the piles of clothes and joke product successes and failures, he realized something. He needed to be doing something. George knew for certain that if he sat here forever and worried about Fred, that he would end up in St. Mungo's psychiatric ward for the 'wildly wailing and wiggling weird ones,' as Fred had once dubbed it.
As he glanced around, his eyes came to rest on a small box hidden under Fred's bed. His head tilted curiously and he considered the usefulness of the items inside the box, if only he could get them to work. He hesitated only a moment before leaping off the bed and pulling the small box out.
George didn't check, but he figured that he'd spent several hours working in his room. He had progressed slowly, finding it very difficult to come up with new strategies to try without having Fred there to bounce them off of. Regardless of that fact, he'd thrown himself into the work in a way that would have made Hermione proud, if only it had been school work. He loathed to pause as a sudden knock sounded on his door but stood up to answer it after pushing his work back under Fred's bed.
He expected the visitor to be Bill, or maybe his mum, and was therefore completely surprised when the headmaster himself was stood in front of his room, staring at him over the old man's ever-present half-moon glasses.
Dumbledore smiled at him in a grandfatherly sort of way. "You seem surprised to see me here, my boy."
George nodded dumbly and then regained his senses enough to ask, "Would you, er, like to come in, sir?" It wasn't the best offer he'd ever made, but he went with it and moved to let the older wizard in. Dumbledore nodded pleasantly and walked into the small room, moving to sit on George's bed. The teen breathed a sigh of relief that the headmaster hadn't chosen to sit on Fred's bed; George wasn't sure what he'd do if that had happened.
"Your father came to speak with me earlier, as I'm sure you're aware," Dumbledore said, sounding as if he was merely discussing today's forecast. George nodded in response, wanting to ask about what they'd spoken of but refrained since he didn't trust himself to communicate clearly yet.
"Of the things that we discussed, one in particular caught my attention. I am speaking, of course, of the potion that you and your brother developed," Dumbledore explained, looking at George with an appraising smile. "Professor Snape even seemed intrigued by it, and he requested that I get a copy of your notes. Perhaps we could even find a way to reverse its effects…"
George looked down and considered this. He highly doubted that Snape would take an interest in anything he and Fred created. That old bat could out-stir anyone and didn't seem the type to trade notes and ideas. Besides that, what good would an antidote of any form be when Fred wasn't here to receive it? Getting more and more discouraged, George shook his head lightly.
"Sir, I don't…" he started to say, then paused and tried again, even though it crushed him to say it out loud. "I mean, it's not like it'd be any use to him… if we found some sort of antidote, that is…"
Dumbledore cut him off by saying, "Hope and faith go hand in hand to provide possibilities and, if you take one or the other away, then those possibilities will also disappear before your eyes."
Nodding along, George stood up and walked to the desk and pushed aside a few papers, growing impatient after a moment when he didn't find what he was looking for. Just as he was about to start throwing papers off his desk, a voice piped up from the hallway.
"George?" It was Hermione. "I hope you don't mind; I was thinking earlier when Headmaster Dumbledore arrived and thought these might be useful for him to look at as well," she said, and in her hands were several pieces of parchment. On them was a list of ingredients he and Fred had used, as well as a slightly confused series of processes that they may have tried.
He smiled at her and motioned for her to give them to the headmaster. Dumbledore waved his wand over them and made a copy for himself as he said, "I'm sure you'll be wanting a copy of your own to study, won't you, Miss Granger?" Even from across the room, George could tell that the old man's eyes were twinkling. Hermione smiled shyly and nodded, retreating back out of the room.
The headmaster made as if to leave but stopped at the door and turned to look back in, eyes resting on a place near George's feet for a moment. George almost thought that Dumbledore's gaze had been directed towards the box under Fred's bed that had distracted the teen for a good portion of the morning. Before he could comment though, Dumbledore lifted his eyes to meet George's.
"I once traveled to America, did you know that?" Dumbledore said nonchalantly.
Caught off guard by the comment, George merely shook his head in response. He wondered absentmindedly if he'd actually say sort of complete sentence to the elderly wizard prior to his departure.
"I was introduced to quite an amiable wizard who loved to play a muggle sport known as 'golf.' Thinking it to be a simple game to master, I decided to give it a try. I failed spectacularly at it and my companion was only slightly better." Dumbledore smiled and shook his head before continuing, "After a while, we reached a point which required a good deal of skill, or luck, as was the case with us, to pull off. I took a shot and, naturally, the little golf ball went flying into a pond. Do you know what my friend did?"
George shook his head, wondering where the headmaster was going with this. Harry had said before that he liked to tell stories as analogies in the form of advice, but George wasn't seeing how this connected to him at all.
"He proceeded to engage me in a long conversation about muggle automobiles, telling me about the different kinds and what they held in store for the country. After a while of such talk, I grew impatient and asked why he was stalling. He laughed and held his golf club in front of him and said, a bit animatedly, 'All things come to him who waits, provided he knows what he is waiting for.' He then explained that the wind had finally passed on, made his shot, and avoided the pond entirely," Dumbledore said, smiling and clasping his hands before him.
It sort of made sense. Sort of. George wasn't entirely sure, but nodded in response nonetheless. "Thank you, sir," he said, though he must have sounded as confused as he looked.
Dumbledore smiled even more and his eyes twinkled at George before he asked, "Do you know what you're waiting for?"
George figured the answer to this was obvious. He was waiting for Fred to come back. Just as he was about to say as much, he thought on it a bit more. Sure, he was waiting for Fred, but that wasn't what he was most anxiously waiting for. No, he was waiting for a chance to do something that could bring Fred back.
Looking up at the old wizard, George nodded and replied quietly but with strength, "Yes, I do."
Dumbledore nodded and smiled again and said, "Very good, very good…" With that, the headmaster made his way back down the winding stairs of the Burrow. George watched him go and, after a few moments of consideration, resumed his work on the contents of the box under Fred's bed.
"Idiot Weasleys…" Severus muttered to himself.
He'd been sitting at the desk in his office for the last hour reviewing the notes that the Granger girl had compiled about the potion that those two rambunctious redheads had concocted. The mistake that they made was simple enough to understand, however, the remedy for such an error would take time to develop.
He tossed the pieces of parchment onto his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. Today would be an excruciatingly long day, if the rumors he'd heard panned out. In a few short hours, the mayhem known as the Quidditch World Cup would start off and, following that, great potential for disaster, if what Albus speculated came to light.
Severus stood and stretched, picking up his quickly-cooling mug of coffee that he'd been nursing most of the night. He'd wisely chosen a bold cup of coffee over the stronger whiskey to help calm his frayed nerves. Seeing the Dark Lord alive and active, despite the fact that he was little more than a wraith at the moment, was more disquieting than Severus wished to admit. Needless to say, sleep had been rather elusive that night.
Throwing back the last dregs of the lukewarm liquid, he stepped quietly over to his lab where he kept many of his potions ingredients. A few specimens were needed that would require a decent amount of time and energy to sort so as to make them into proper potions ingredients. Severus levitated a small box of various fish whose scales needed to be removed, among other things.
Adding a feather-light charm, Severus carried the box under his arm and headed out of his quarters to go meet with the devil again. Just before he actually left the castle, he sent his patronus with a message to Albus so that the old codger would know where he'd gone to. He quietly watched as the silvery doe bounded away from him and, when it turned a corner and was seen no more, he opened the great door and walked down the grassy hills towards the Forbidden Forest.
Apparating away to the Dark Lord's current stronghold was easier than Severus wished it to be. He despised how easily this role was in coming back to him. It had been thirteen years since he'd truly had to lead two lives, act in ways becoming of two personalities, and live to please not one, but two, crazed old men. Not for the first time that day did he wonder if he was getting too old for this.
Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind where they wouldn't cause more trouble for him, he moved towards the decrepit house in which the Dark Lord resided. As he stepped inside, he immediately noticed that something was different. There had been someone else here, other than Wormtail and the Weasley fool. Keeping a constant ear out for this new guest, Severus made his way to the room where the Dark Lord spent all his time.
The door creaked as he pushed it open and he barely paused to check that the Dark Lord was there before he knelt in a display of respect.
"My lord, I hope you are well," he greeted with a level voice, not letting an ounce of his dislike for the creature before him show in his words.
"Severusss," the Dark Lord responded, dragging out his name with a hiss, "it is good to see you returning so promptly, though I am unaware as to why…"
"I have brought a few ingredients that need to be sorted, my lord," Severus explained, holding the box before him as further explanation.
"Excellent, Severusss… Be sure the blood traitor does an exceptional job on them…"
Taking that as a cue that he could leave, Severus bowed low again and then stood. Just before he reached the door though, the Dark Lord's voice broke in through his thoughts. "One more thing," the conniving voice rang out, "be sure that you are available tonight. We have quite a bit of… excitement planned…"
Severus nodded and replied, "Yes, of course, my lord." He bowed once again and turned to leave. If he'd needed further confirmation that the Dark Lord was planning something for the World Cup, then he'd just received it. He made a mental note to inform Albus as soon as he discovered anything more concrete about the plans.
In the meantime, however, he needed to set a certain Weasley to work so that the idiot teenager would stay out of trouble, if only for today. Severus carried the box of fishes down to the makeshift laboratory which was nowhere near the level he was accustomed to working in. He set the box on the table and continued on to the door leading downstairs. With any luck, the Weasley boy had eaten the food that had been left for him and had managed evade Wormtail's attention in the long hours since Severus had left him here.
The door creaked slightly as it opened and Severus looked in to see the captive boy resting against the wall. The spy noted with a feigned disinterest that the bread and water were mostly gone now. Standing tall and adopting a more intimidating appearance, Severus barked out at the boy to get up.
"Weasley!" At that, the teen jumped awake and stood shakily. Though he didn't outwardly show it, Severus was thankful that the boy was at least able to stand on his own now.
"Professor…" The teen rubbed his eyes blearily as he looked around, waiting for memories of why he was in such a dark and unwelcoming place to return to him.
"You'll be coming with me," Severus stated, opening the door to the boy's cell. "Since you seemed so anxious to help, I have brought a few things for you to sort." Right as he said it, Severus thought he saw a flicker of something different in the boy's expression before it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.
With a wave of his hand, Severus directed the Weasley boy up the stairs. Before reaching the laboratory room, Severus pushed him into a bathroom and shut the door. The teen had looked surprised but quickly took advantage of the opportunity. On the other side of the door, Severus heard the water being turned on and splashed about a bit. He only granted a couple of minutes for the stop though, since he didn't want to deal with Wormtail in the event that the filthy rat came to investigate.
After opening the door and motioning for the boy to follow, Severus led them to the room where his potions ingredients were. As the Weasley boy found a stool and pulled it up to the table, Severus thought about how the boy was acting. From what he'd heard from Dumbledore, as well as what he'd inferred from the anticipated effects he saw in the potion that the boys had made, he had expected more violent or disagreeable behavior. So far, all he'd seen was the rather uncharacteristic display of the boy throwing his supposed morals to the wind to save himself. And that, Severus knew, wasn't so uncommon when one was confronted with an entity as evil as the Dark Lord.
Aside from that occurrence, the boy seemed a bit more argumentative, but he hadn't really reacted violently. Severus watched him peripherally and noted that the boy was staring at the table and staying still. Perhaps that was another indicator? The fact that the boy wasn't attempting to pull jokes or cause some enjoyment to laugh at was different, though that could just be attributed to the fact that he didn't have his twin brother next to him.
Severus wanted to see more of these reactions that had led to the boy's arrival to the Dark Lord's current lair. Though he knew it could be dangerous if he goaded the boy into doing something foolish, he secretly admitted that he was more curious of this potion's effects. He set the box down in front of the teen and glared at him with one of his many infamous looks.
"You will be removing the scales from these fish and sorting them according to size and color," Severus instructed quietly. "When you have finished, you will remove the eyes and place them in this jar," he said, holding out a large jar, "and fill it with a preservative potion once it is full."
The boy nodded in response and said quickly, "Would you like me to also make fish and chips for dinner?"
Severus had to refrain from cuffing the boy about the head and settled on leveling a glare across the table.
"What you do for dinner is your concern and none of mine, Mr. Weasley," Snape replied coolly. "Though you may be hard-pressed to find anything beyond these fish tonight…" He'd said it as more of a taunt in response to the boy's lip than anything else, and yet, the idiot read into and leaned forward to question him.
"Why? Is something going on tonight?" The teen asked curiously.
"Why?" Severus countered, "Do you wish to volunteer for something else, as well?"
He watched in interest as the boy bit his lip and looked to the side, almost as if he was embarrassed or trying not to say something. Finally, he looked back to Severus and answered, "No, I… I didn't mean –"
Severus cut him off with a derisive snort and said, "So, you've had time to consider just where it is that you're standing, have you? Just think how proud everyone will be. Your family will be thrilled to hear that one of their own has betrayed everything they believe in just to further his own existence."
A shadow passed over the boy's face which closely resembled fear before the teen responded heatedly, "If they're that upset about it then they can just forget about me and move on then, can't they?"
Though the words were said with conviction, Severus saw the uneasy look that crossed onto the boy's face after that. It was as if he was fighting to say one thing, but when he actually tried to say it, something completely different came out. Severus shook his head and the two worked quietly for a few minutes.
Just before Severus decided to leave, the teen asked him a question in a tone that suggested that they hadn't just been arguing a few minutes before. That kind of behavior coming from a Gryffindor really was strange…
"What day is today?" Came the unexpected question.
Severus glared at him meaningfully, not entirely used to how the boy was acting. The Weasley twins, while not the most well-behaved students, were at least respectful and not intentionally rude, even though most of their respect was given in the form of jokes and pranks.
The boy somehow refrained from rolling his eyes and repeated, "What day is it today, sir?"
"Today is the 22nd of August," Severus answered. "The World Cup is being held this afternoon."
A moment of thoughtful silence and then, "Are you going?"
Severus knew what that question entailed. The boy was asking if the Dark Lord had anything planned. Not wanting to even broach that topic, Severus said, "Enough talk. Get to work, Mr. Weasley."
The boy peeled a few scales from a brightly colored fish and then looked up and knowingly said, "There is something happening, or else you'd deny it. What's going to –"
"Mr. Weasley, it would behoove you to learn to curb your curiosity," Severus cut him off, his quiet voice sounding more forceful than if he had shouted.
He almost didn't hear the teen mutter, "And it would behoove you to not be a greasy git as well…" He almost didn't hear it.
"Just in case," Severus said, adding a good amount of contempt to his voice, "why don't we make sure that you'll be too busy to get into any trouble tonight. Remove and organize the fins as well as the teeth by size."
Severus spun around and marched out of the room, leaving a glaring Weasley teen behind. At least this would ensure that the boy didn't begin to think that the evil bat of the dungeons liked him. Severus shivered in distaste at the thought of a Gryffindor finding his presence enjoyable. He much preferred to not get attached to anything that could easily be affected by the Dark Lord.
While Fred was dissecting various types of fish, George was sleeping uncomfortably on the floor of his room, having finally given in to the exhaustion he felt. He dreamt of Fred and the reunion that he hoped for so much. In his dream, Fred appeared next to George's side on the grounds at Hogwarts. George felt so excited to see his twin and tried to talk to him, to say anything, but he couldn't. It was as if his voice had been taken away and not only that, it seemed that he couldn't hear Fred either. They were caught in a cycle of trying to communicate and misunderstanding as the world swept by around them. From afar, the two could hear loud crashes, as if the trees of the Forbidden Forest were being torn down. George frantically tried to tell his twin where to go while Fred did the same, but they never moved from the spot because they couldn't understand. The crashing sounds came closer and closer until –
George sat up abruptly and looked around dazedly at his and Fred's room. His brow furrowed at the memory of the strange dream until a loud knock echoed through the air. Startled once again, George leapt up to answer it, feeling the aches in his back and legs from sleeping on the hard floor.
He opened the door to see Bill and Charlie standing in the hallway. Yawning slightly, he asked them, "Where's the fire?"
Bill shook his head and smiled a little while Charlie replied, "You'd better get ready soon – Dad's taking you and everyone else that can't apparate yet up to meet the Diggorys."
George, once again thoroughly confused, questioned, "What?"
Bill answered with a bit less excitement than Charlie appeared to have. "Mum and Dad weren't sure if they would go or not, given the circumstances, but they decided that we all need to get out for a bit. We're going to the Quidditch World Cup. Remember us talking about it before?"
George honestly didn't remember having talked about it recently, though he did recall a conversation he'd had with Fred a number of times concerning the bets that the two wanted to place. His shoulders slumped at the thought that he'd be going without Fred. "Bill, I don't know if I want to go…"
Charlie gave him a look and asked, "Seriously? Come on, if not for your benefit, than for Mum's." Bill threw Charlie a look but didn't say anything to deny the others' words.
George hated it when they used that card.
Despite how he felt about it all, he let his older brothers come in and pack him a few clothes and things to take with them and then followed as they pulled him down the stairs. Once he'd arrived downstairs, he found an exhausted-looking group consisting of Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were also assembled with small bags to take with them. Without comment, he watched as his dad stood before them and smiled encouragingly.
"Alright, Weasleys!" He said, and then looked at Harry and Hermione. "And honorary Weasleys! We've got a Portkey to catch and we don't want to be late, so be sure to keep up and stay with me!"
George waited as his mum came around to give each of them a hug and the random warning to stay out of trouble. Of course, she didn't deem it necessary to say such a thing to Percy, though the boy still said that he would help keep everyone in line. George rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to pick on Percy, but stopped halfway through when he remembered that no one was there to finish the joke. He bit his lip to refrain from cursing that fact.
She gave him an extra-long hug and held onto his arm for a moment as she double-checked that his dad had the tickets. After seeing them waving in Arthur's hand, she ushered them out of the Burrow with the instructions to have a good time and to be safe.
Seeing as it was ridiculously early, George wasn't surprised that the four youngest of the group were very quiet during the trek up to the Portkey. He noticed that Percy hadn't said anything to him at all that morning and George suddenly felt a bit guilty about yelling at his brother the previous night. This feeling was followed by a smile over how much Fred would balk at George feeling sorry for Percy.
George sped up a bit and paced next to Percy as they trudged up a grassy hill. Neither boy said anything for a moment until George finally built up enough courage to say, "Sorry about last night, Perce. I shouldn't have snapped at you and the others… I just…"
Percy nodded and replied, "I know." George was thankful that Percy had spared him from having to finish the entire apology. A moment passed and then Percy said, "Dad's worried."
"Of course he is," George said, but Percy shook his head.
"Not just about Fred – he's worried about today and all of us being at the Cup. He's worried something may happen," Percy explained quietly. George didn't respond, choosing instead to speculate about what their father could possibly be worrying about this time. As they approached the Diggorys at the top of a hill, he found himself holding onto his wand in anticipation.
George almost laughed at the irony. The game had played out just as he and Fred had been planning to bet that it would. Ireland won the game while Krum was the one to catch the snitch. At first, he shook his head with frustration at the thought of how much money they could have made from that bet. Later, he would be thankful that he hadn't bet, seeing as how Ludo Bagman's money wasn't worth a thing anyways.
The Weasleys (and honorary Weasleys) sat in their tents and talked about the game, even reenacting parts of it that they had especially liked. George hadn't felt like joining in the reenactments, but eventually did as it involves throwing a quaffle (a pillow) at Percy repeatedly. Percy had complained loudly and then, when no one was looking, whacked George over the head with the pillow without taking his eyes from his book. The action elicited a short laugh from George, one that he hadn't heard since before Fred had disappeared.
A short while later found them finally settling down enough to go to bed. George lied down on his cot and stretched out, his mind drifting over the events of the day. They had nearly had a run-in with the Malfoys and those around them had been worried that sparks would fly, literally. George all but pulled his wand out and fired off a few hexes when he saw the blonde family in the seats, stopped only by the level of restraint his father was able to show.
It seemed as if the Malfoys didn't want to cause a scene either, for they disappeared halfway through the game. George tracked their movement as they left, missing a fantastic Wronski Feint that was being played out.
He had barely drifted to sleep when he was woken up by Bill and Charlie, as well as a great deal of shrieking and screaming going on outside. At first, he thought that it was just a riot that had developed due to post-game partying, but the sounds he was hearing didn't sound like any sort of party he would want to join.
His dad pulled them all outside and directed him and the four younger children to go to the trees and wait while his dad, Bill, Charlie, and Percy went to see what was happening. Together with Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, he ran for the woods. They got a bit ahead of him, since he kept turning around to see what was happening. He caught up to them only to find that Draco Malfoy was there to taunt them.
As he paused by them, he heard Draco say, "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to – trying to rescue the Muggles?" The blonde wizard smirked at them as he leant casually against a tree.
George heard Harry make a comment about Draco's parents being part of the crowd that was terrorizing the Muggles and then the thoughts in his mind clicked together. Draco's parents were out there. Lucius Malfoy was out there. He was the reason why Fred was missing. George felt the anger grow inside him and he turned and gazed upon the fires that shot up around the tents. He clenched his wand in his hand and, without a backward glance, bolted back towards the mayhem with one goal in his mind: to find a way to get Fred back.
He darted between the escaping guests that were making their way towards the trees. As he got closer to the tents, he slowed down enough so that he could see what was around him. George reached a vacated tent and stood behind it to catch his breath. As he peeked out, he saw several men in masks and dark cloaks firing off curses at various bystanders.
George clutched his wand out before him and moved to jump out from behind the tent to join in, but was stopped by a strong hand on his other arm. He turned to see who had snuck up on him and raised his eyebrows at Percy.
"George! What are you doing here?" Percy shouted over the roar of fires and terrified screams.
George sighed and then replied, "I've got to do something."
"Come on, George. Leave this to Dad and the aurors," Percy pleaded, trying to pull his brother away. George shook his head and started to protest when the tent they were standing next to burst in flames.
The two Weasleys jumped away from it and looked around frantically until they saw one of the masked men pointing his wand at them and chanting off a powerful curse. The two boys blocked it and attempted to fire off their own curses and hexes.
After a moment of throwing spells back and forth, the man grinned and said, "So this is where you've been hiding."
George growled out, "What are you talking about, scum? We were just waiting for you to figure it out – took you long enough!"
The man sneered at him and replied in between hexes, "You sound so confidant, as if you can actually beat me…"
The three shot off a few more curses and hexes before the man added to his last statement.
"Granted," he laughed, "your twin sounded pretty confidant too…"
At that, George froze and stared at the man before him as Percy fought to cover both of them now that George was unresponsive. His mind dwelled on the possibilities that were implied by what the man said, but George hardly paid them any mind as a fierce anger roared up behind his eyes.
Before he could act though, an echoing blast knocked both him and Percy off their feet. George's anger grew even more as the man laughed loudly and turned to run down the path away from them.
"Boys! What are you… George, what are you doing here?" Their father asked worriedly as he ran up behind them.
Percy had just gotten to his feet and started to explain when George took the opportunity to bolt after the masked man. He had every intention to find him and find out exactly what he meant concerning Fred. George hardly heard his father and brother yelling for him to stop as he chased the other man through the tents and fired off every hex and curse he could think of.
Fred vowed that he would never eat another fish for as long as he lived. He didn't think he'd ever forget the smell of fish as he pulled off scales, cut off fins, and gouged out the eyes so that they could be used as potions ingredients. At several points during the day, he thought that he might be sick from the smell, and he found himself slightly thankful that there wasn't enough food in him to really get sick.
It didn't help much that Wormtail had decided to sit in the room so that he could supervise the teen's work. Fred had firmly kept his mouth shut so as not to cause trouble for himself. Despite what he'd said to Snape, he did see the sense in keeping a low profile, no matter how hard that would be in this place.
He almost didn't notice as Wormtail jumped up and scampered out of the room. Fred thought he heard something going on down the hall, but he wasn't certain and wasn't about to get up and investigate it. The choice was made for him a few minutes later as Snape walked into the laboratory.
The dungeon bat hovered over his work for barely a moment before placing a spell on the parts he'd not yet sorted and then used his wand to put away the ones he had. Without a word, he motioned for Fred to get up and follow him. Just before they reached the doorway, Fred heard a terrible scream echo through the building. It raised the hairs on his neck and he couldn't help but crane his head towards where it was coming from.
Snape grabbed him and yanked him down the hallway. The screaming continued and Fred listened to it waver and change in intensity every few seconds. They weren't yet to the door that led downstairs to his cell. Just before reaching it, he thought he heard the screaming voice shout something out, but Fred couldn't tell what the voice said.
He paused as Snape opened the door and leaned back to listen further, but Snape pushed him to go down the stairs. With a solemn expression, Snape said, "You don't want to bear witness to this."
Fred made his way downstairs and let himself be led into the cell where he was made to stay. Still, he could hear the screaming echoing through the large building. Snape said something else to him, but he didn't hear it enough to be able to respond. He sat, still and quiet in the dark, and listened to the screams that punctured the silence around him. Those sounds were accompanied by the barely audible dripping sound that he'd grown so familiar with.
As he sat and listened, he couldn't help but puzzle over the sound of the voice. Something about it… He wasn't sure why, but it sounded like he'd heard it before, especially when whomever it was had shouted earlier. Fred tilted his head back to lean it against the wall and pondered the new arrival. He wondered if they would meet or if the new voice would die from all of the screaming. He hoped the newcomer would still be able to speak. It would be a shame to gain a companion that couldn't talk. Fred shrugged, figuring that it didn't much matter if they couldn't communicate.
It didn't occur to him until much later that the sound of the newcomer's screaming should probably trouble and disturb him, rather than make him curious.
Wow that was a long chapter to write… Wanna review it?
Help the author! I need ideas – what was George working on? I'll bake white chocolate macadamia nut cookies in your honor if you give me a really good idea! :)
I'll even save a cookie if you know who the quote that Dumbledore used was from.
And – gasp – who on earth has been abducted NOW? Goodness, at this rate, I'm going to kill off everyone ;)