Fred Weasley was perfectly happy with the afterlife as he'd found it. Which is not to say that he'd wanted to die, but that given no option, this place was about as tops as he could have hoped for.
He'd gotten to meet and hang out with his crazy uncles, Gideon and Fabian, and a whole slew of other Weasley and Prewitt relatives he'd always wondered about. He had a chance to chat with Harry's parents, to hang with the almighty creators of the Marauder's Map, to play pranks with Tonks. Dumbledore introduced him to a hidden supply of lemon drops, and he played Quidditch with some of the all-time greats.
But there were things about this place that took getting used to. One was the rules...there were ways to behave, especially when interacting with the world down there. Now, Fred had never been particularly good at following rules, but in the circumstances he really had no choice.
The other oddity was that there seemed to be two kinds of people around here. There were waiting room people, and complete people. In other words, there were those whose lives had been ripped from them in an untimely fashion. Not people who had unfinished business; let's face it, nearly everyone who ever passed on had unfinished business. But people whose deaths were not in the grand fabric, who had been expected to live for a long time to come. Those were the people who frequented the waiting room, who had family they still hoped to in some way nurture, who had a role that was still to be fulfilled in some way in the other world. They were the people, as well, who had the hardest time of letting go of that world.
Fred was, obviously, a waiting room person.
Most murder victims, even those who died in battle, were. Fred knew now that the plan for him had been to have a long life, to raise his son after Katie's death, and to be a guiding force within the rest of his family. It couldn't happen, and when his life had been ripped from the fabric, it had altered other threads as well. Hence the reason he was so strongly drawn to the waiting room.
The Potters had been waiting room people, until Harry's own death and return. Now they were complete, people who could quite easily never set foot in the waiting room again, except to perhaps escort a loved one on to a train.
Harry now, Harry had been a boomerang. Someone who'd arrived in an untimely fashion and who was able to go back. Come to think of it, Alf was a boomerang too.
Ghosts were what happened when waiting room people never made it to the complete stage. For Cedric, he'd had special permission to interact as a ghost, but had exceeded his bounds.
All very complicated, Fred thought. And sometimes there were people who were complete that didn't much make sense to him. One of them being Katie Bell.
Katie had, it turned out, always been meant to die at the age that she did. Whether she had returned to the wizarding world to marry Fred and raise Alf, or whether things had happened the way they did, she would have passed on in 2008. It frustrated him sometimes; it had always seemed to him that she ought to be coming to the waiting room with him, to watch their son and see how well he was doing. But when he told her that, she'd just smile sweetly and tell him that she knew Alf was doing well, she could feel it, but that her job was done.
He rather hoped that the conversation he was about to have was different.
He found himself, as he thought of Katie, strolling across the Hogwarts grounds, in the great expanse of fields by the lake. It was how he most fondly pictured Katie, and therefore how he often met her. The earth felt solid under his feet; the breeze that lifted his hair was fresh and fragrant with heather. He could easily pretend he was still alive, pretend he was back at school, except for the relative quiet and the feeling of peace.
Katie was waiting for him, as beautiful as she'd been her sixth year, sitting under a tree, one knee drawn up to her chin, staring calmly over the expanse of water. He, on impulse, conjured a bouquet of flowers, as he'd so often done in life, and presented it to her with a bow.
"Dear Fred!" She giggled, accepting the daisies with a smile. Naturally one of them proceeded to squirt water at her. "I would have expected no less!" She laughed.
"Katie girl." He sat next to her and kissed her cheek. "How is it going with you?"
She smiled brightly. "Wonderful. Calm. No more pain."
He squeezed her hand. "I am glad to hear it." They sat for a few moments, as a great heron swooped over and captured a fish. "Katie...I have something I must ask you...a favor."
"You need me to contact Alf." Her placid gaze met his. "I can still feel him, you know. And I can feel you too...your desire to help him. And those around him." She sighed a little. "I know you wonder how I could let go, Fred. But I had to...it was time. And, it was necessary; Alfred needed to bond with George, and he could not have done so with me always in his head. It isn't like you, when you left George; that was never supposed to happen."
"But will you do it now?" Fred asked, urgently. "Because there are things going on down there that certainly can't be part of the fabric. Bad things, though I don't understand it all. And we...I need to get this message through."
She squeezed his hand. "Of course I will. I quite agree with you...for Alf's future, all this is necessary." She kissed his cheek. "Tell me what I must do."
Relieved, Fred sat back and began to explain the situation of CJ Diggory.
WWWWWWW
The Dursley's bags were packed. It was the end of their little vacation and they were flying back to America, although not, as Hal had asked hopefully, "on a broom?" It had been a good week, an eventful one, and one where Harry could honestly say he had perhaps buried the last of the shadows of his past. He had a living relative he could count as a friend. That was, for him, a first.
Dudley was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and one of George's killer pastries. "Shouldn't be eating this." He mumbled. "Been so good on my diet recently." He dabbed at a few flakes left on his chin. "But damn, that George can cook."
"Cook, write...I'm beginning to hate him." Harry quipped. Seeing Dudley's alarm he quickly added, "Not really, Dudley. He's been a terrific friend, although I maybe didn't appreciate it earlier in the week."
"Right. Can see that, really, the Weasleys were your family more than we ever were." Dudley rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, then chuckled. "Reading through that manuscript, I can understand why they set that trick candy on me!"
Harry cringed a little. "George is really sorry about that now, Dudley..."
"Oh, I know!" Dudley looked seriously at Harry. "Like I'm sorry my family didn't do better by you, and that I was such a little shite."
"I don't blame you." Harry said quickly. "Your parents taught you to loathe me, and then to fear me. You grew up, and you changed how you thought about things. That says something Dudley!"
"Arr." Dudley grunted, sounding a bit like his father as he did so. "Doesn't say much for my parents, though. Look at you, taking care of Teddy Lupin. Look at George there, taking in that Diggory boy. Neither of you resenting that."
Harry paused, thoughtfully. The old vision of how Severus Snape died came back to him, the sight of two sisters playing together who used to be close, and who were broken apart by jealousy over magical talents. Aunt Petunia had loved her sister, loved her so much she wanted to be like her, and never recovered from knowing they were doomed to be different. Love and hate, he knew, were sometimes not so far apart.
"Dudley...Before you go...I think there's a story I have to tell you..." And slowly, Harry began to explain, about Lily, about Petunia, and a boy named Severus Snape.
WWWWWWW
George Weasley was at the Leaky Cauldron on a lunch break. With him were Percy, Oliver Wood, and, of all people, Viktor Krum. They had corresponded, the three of them, ever since George had made a promise to Angelina Morgainne. And they had involved Lee Jordan as well, because of Lee's travels.
"How is it looking on your end, Viktor?"
The former world-class seeker, now retired, rubbed at his face. "It is very...how you say...neb-you-luss." He dragged the last word out. "My contacts say Matthias lives, but is held deep in the wilds."
"Aye, that's what I've heard too." Wood added. "But we may have an advantage. The turmoil there...there are warring factions among the wizards. Two evenly matched forces."
"Both poised to fall." Percy added, his eyes squinting slightly. "So we've heard. There may be a third party underground, willing to rise up. A party friendly to England."
George looked around the assembly. Each of them had half-touched plates of food and nearly empty pints of ale before them. "Two dark sides canceling each other out. Do we know which dark side has Morgainne prisoner?"
"The Masakenese are believed to be holding him, in a watery dungeon on the bottom of Lake Victoria." Krum spoke. "Not far from where a certain international Qudditch match is due to be held."
They all came to the same thought: the Masakana party was pushing the upcoming Uganda-New Zealand match as a way to legitimize its stronghold on Ugandan's Wizarding populace. The Jinjani's would do anything to disrupt the match. Lee Jordan would, no doubt, be calling the event. It would be the ideal time for any kind of rescue to happen.
The match was in two weeks.
"George Weasley..." Krum spoke slowly, using his full name, as he always did. "You have now, I think, a family...as does Oliver Wood. As does Percy Weasley." Krum crumbled a bit of bread thoughtfully in to his stew. "I have no family. Da, I go."
"Shaddup..."
"Don't know what yer about, Krum..."
"Hardly advisable..."
"DA!" Krum raised one hand authoritatively, and they all grew quiet. "I go with Lee Jordan. This already we have planned. You all, much needed information have you found for us. Much insight have you given us. But for this mission, no family man should risk his life. This, I think, Matthias Morgainne would agree with."
George was almost ashamed to admit it, but what he felt most was relief. It was true that he hadn't even so much as discussed this with Michelle, because he could be fairly certain what her reaction would be. And Alf, plus now CJ Diggory, depended on him. NEEDED him. He was not the man he was two years ago. And though a part of him wanted to play the hero on this, he was old enough and mature enough to recognize that there were different types of heroes.
"Alright." George finally said, giving in. "What do you need from me? Any product, any self defense item...we still have quite a bit of stuff in stock from the Voldemort days."
Krum's eyes gleamed. "Peruvian Darkness powder. That, I think, would come in quite handy. And perhaps an item or two more..."
"Done." George nodded. "Perce, can you make sure that Viktor can get the goods out of the country without any awkward questions?"
Percy gave a thin smile. "I think I can be arranged to be the ministry official on duty when Viktor leaves."
Oliver sighed. "Very well then...let's meet again tomorrow to go over a final plan. Does Angelina know about this?"
"No." George said quickly. "I don't want to get her hopes up."
Oliver nodded. "Probably wise."
WWWWWWW
This was a dream. Alf knew it was a dream because of how it played out. Firstly, he was back in Sheffield, which he never had any desire to see again. Second, he felt younger, lighter almost. Third, he was on a broom, and he knew his Dad would vivisect him if he ever caught him flying outside of a sanctioned area!
He landed in his old back yard. And somehow knowing what he was going to find, he seemed to glide forward in to the back door, to the kitchen.
His mum was waiting for him.
He didn't speak at first, and then ran to her, burying his head against her sweater, smelling the aroma of her perfume. She embraced him, and warmth filled him, the memory of her love strong as steel and soft as silk. He felt her press her lips against his head, and he wanted to never let go.
But he knew that wasn't an option. This was a dream like one of the ones his Dad had talked to him about, a dream that really wasn't a dream, but a connection. And as he let go and moved to the chair opposite her, he knew she was with him for a reason. Still, there was one thing he had to know.
"You're not in pain anymore, are you, mum?" Those last weeks had been horrible, horrible for him to watch, as the disease destroyed his mother's body and spirit together.
"No, love...there is no pain where I am." She smiled, and lifted his chin gently. "You were the best son a mother could have, Alf, and I am so happy to know that you and George have done well together. He does love you."
"And I him." Alf said, nodding shortly. "Wish I could have known him earlier..." He hurried on, not wanting to fight. "...but I know you just wanted to do what you thought best."
"Yes. Sometimes what we think is best isn't. That was one of those times." She gave him the sad smile. "I hope this isn't one of them. Because I have information for you, my son. Information about your friend CJ Diggory."
Alf nodded; it seemed unsurprising to him that this would happen. CJ was the one he'd seen with the closest spiritual world connection, even more than his Dad. Perhaps there was a way to help him being offered. Alf certainly knew he'd try anything to help his friend.
"Alright." He sat back. "Tell me what's up."
WWWWWWW
FROM THE DIARY OF CJ DIGGORY
Back at school from break for the first day. Everyone here is under the impression that I'm recovering from a sudden illness, and that's the reason I look a bit peaked. Heck, even some of the hard core seventh year Slytherins keep coming up to me to see if I'm doing okay. Apparently I look really terrible.
Which is pretty funny, as comparatively I look great. If they'd seen me the first day I was at the Weasley's they'd have been preparing my memorial service.
The last day in Godric's hollow, Alf, Teddy and I had a long conversation. Actually, Alf and I had spoken first, and the decision was made to bring Teddy completely in the loop on my situation. Teddy was horrified, as best evidenced by the fact that his face changed in to something resembling werewolf. Alf says it's something he's always been capable of, but which he only brings out when he's really pissed off. In any event, safe to say my father was probably lucky not to be around at the time.
When I say "bring Teddy in the loop," I mean that now he's totally in the loop, about everything including Cedric (that is, everything I can afford to talk about). The talk Alf and I had that morning had grown out of a dream he'd had about his Mum. My brother, it seems, has now been banned from visitng me again.
It really upset me when Alf first told me. And I'm still hoping that it was a regular dream, not a channeling of the other side. But I doubt it. Alf's got plenty of sense when it comes down to things, and he'd know the difference.
It hurts to think I won't see Cedric again, and scares me to think that I'm up against these horrible vows on my own. I had been counting on his help. But perhaps, if Alf is correct, Cedric will be able to feed me information in other ways. Besides, I still feel him beside me. I can't see him, can't talk with him, but I know he's there. He always will be.
Which of course brings me to the problem that won't go away. I've been thinking about it hard, and going over the wording on those vows. It's hard to remember them perfectly, but I'm pretty sure the words my father had me use was that I should never "speak a word of these vows to anyone." I sense a loop hole, there; theoretically it should be possible for me to write down what happened and give it to somebody...say, George Weasley...to read. Only...here's the thing. I am pretty sure of what I heard. But I'd just endured over twelve hours of torture. So I'm not positive.
And if I were right, I'm still not sure what exactly this means. Do unbreakable vows bind intent? Do they follow the letter of the law, or the spirit? Worse, as far as I can tell the only way I have to see if my theory is right, is to turn around and tell somebody, and hope I don't drop dead. That's a pretty bleak prospect if I'm wrong. It's not like there's any cure for death.
I explained what I could to Teddy and Alf. They knew, they sensed that there was something going on that I wouldn't tell them. I told them I wouldn't, because I couldn't, and asked them to trust me. To my shock they did. In any event, what I did tell them was that there might be times when I might be researching something, or ask their help looking something up, that might not make much sense to them. They both readily agreed, with one caveat...we need to involve Eileen as well. Fine by me...she sometimes in her Hufflepuff purity cuts right to the heart of the solution when the rest of us are overanalyzing the problem.
Speaking of Eileen, I had that dream again. The one where I live to have a future. Only it was clearer, and more detailed. I knew, for instance, that I was two years past Hogwarts, and had just completed field work in care of magical creatures. The job I was taking on from Alf's dad involved expanding the store to include a larger menagerie of magical beings.
Other things I learned from this dream: Alf was studying Bio-chemical engineering at Oxford, as part of a magical-muggle fusion program, a way to provide cross-over between the worlds (with the knowledge of a handful of intuitive muggles). The theory being to bring magical practices to muggle science, in the hopes of advancing their disease research. Given how Alf's mum died, it seems entirely logical he would choose to pioneer this field. He is in fact engaged to Eileen at that moment, not just dating her.
Teddy will be brilliant and daring. Even while lounging in the store, he exuded the looks and confidence of a cursebreaker, and a man who had women falling at his feet. Which is why Alf and I, apparently, will be relentlessly teasing him about the fact that he had to beg Victoire to date him.
Something else I realize...Victoire in the dream has just graduated Hogwarts, and her best friend is my girlfriend. Whose name I still don't know.
One thing stood out, though. It was the store, the one I am currently sworn to destroy, and yet it wasn't. It was bigger, brighter, and crazier. Like instead of destroying it, I have improved it. It my dreams it flourishes, a living testimony to the man...men, I guess...who created it. I suppose that is wishful thinking on my part, that I should not only live to survive this vow, but totally refute it in every way.
But the dream gives me hope, and I cling to it. With Cedric gone, it's really all I have left.
WWWWWWW
Two weeks after break had ended, in the midst of preparing final exams and finalizing wedding plans, a worn out Michelle Fabry found herself in the least likely of places...Angelina Morgainne's private quarters. They had formed an uneasy truce since Christmas, but to have the potion's professor come up to her and ask her if she wanted to come by to listen to the Uganda-New Zealand match on her wireless, was beyond stunning. So stunning, she found herself saying yes, despite the fact that unless Alf were playing, she really wasn't much of a Quidditch fan at all.
Half an hour in to the match, Angelina had stopped pacing with frustration over play she considered inferior, and had settled down with a glass of wine beside Michelle, half smirking as old friend Lee Jordan continued calling the play. "Did you know anyone who's on the Ugandan team?" Michelle asked, as she picked at the spicy chicken dip the house elves had created.
"No...there was a complete turnover when the last regime was overthrown a year ago." Angelina gave a shrug and a grimace. "I have no rooting interest, I suppose, save that I doubt that if New Zealand loses, any of their players will find themselves being fed to lions."
Ugh. Michelle didn't think Angelina was kidding, either. And the game was being played with the appropriate amount of fierceness, considering. Though there were lulls, and no word on the snitch. Angelina suddenly turned the conversation from sports.
"Alfred shows quite a lot of promise in potions." It came up as an off-hand comment, though Angelina did cast Michelle a sideways glance as she threw it out there.
"He's a very smart kid." Michelle agreed. "He's shown some skills with healing, as well."
They lapsed once more in to silence as New Zealand was denied on an apparently spectacular save by Uganda. Then Angelina returned to the boy once more. "His mother also had that talent." A pause. "I think she would have liked you."
Michelle turned to look at Angelina in full. So little had she heard about Alf's mother from anyone. That was more understandable now that she knew that George had not been romantically involved with Katie. Still, she was in a situation where she was about to become a step-mother to a twelve year old boy. The more she could learn about Katie Bell, the better, she believed, her relationship with Alf would be. "I am glad you think so. She must have been a good mother."
Angelina inclined her head thoughtfully. "Katie may not have done the best by him in how she chose to raise him, but I cannot fault her for that. We were all scared in those days, and then with Fred dying...she did what she had to for her child."
"Especially with Alf being little more than a squib." Michelle added, only to turn and see Angelina gape at her.
"WHAT?" She gasped.
Stunned, Michelle began explaining the story as George had been able to piece it together, the attack by Katie's mother (without Katie's knowledge), the frightening thought of what would happen to her squib son in the magical world...and the dosing of Alf with an experimental potion that nearly killed him, even as it restored his magic. "But surely you knew some of this? It was in his dossier?"
Angelina shook her head. "I didn't read the dossiers...I didn't want to prejudice my opinions on the students." They stared at each other, and then Angelina gave a wry and bitter smile. "Of course, I did do exactly that anyway, didn't I?" She sighed. "Poor Katie. This makes Alf's performance all the more remarkable, though."
"I don't suppose you plan on telling him he doesn't suck?" Michelle joked.
"Naturally not. I have a reputation to uphold!" But she winked.
At that moment Lee Jordan's voice boomed from the radio.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it's pandemonium on the field. Entire areas of the city are rumored to be enveloped in darkness, and there are explosions happening everwhere, including right here at the stadium..." There was a distant boom in the background, and a cacophony of orchestral music. "It seems to be fireworks, not bombs...great exploding blossoms of color, accompanied by music...quite stunning, actually, a first rate display...seems to have taken the Ugandans off guard, though..."
Lee's fellow commentator piped in.
"What exactly is that music? Can you tell?"
"Bless me, It's a bagpipe march to Amazing Grace...heck, there's actual singing...brilliant line about being lost and then found, I've always thought...and here come the Ugandan ministry, but this is going to take some doing to control..."
Angelina snapped off the radio. "Fools and idiots those wizards are, always trying to kill each other!"
Michelle was pale, with two red splotches of color having come up on her cheeks. "Doesn't sound to me like they're trying to kill each other." She rose. "And I thank you for the hospitality, but I do think it's time for me to turn in."
Michelle managed to keep herself composed until she left Angelina's; once the door had closed, she broke in to an all-out run towards her own quarters.
An uprising. In Uganda.
All she knew is, if George wasn't home when she firecalled him, she was going to go to Uganda herself and personally kick his ass!