In George's Eyes
Jedi Goat
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
10/04/11 - Edits. And - you guessed it - this is all brand new! And compliant with certain parts of OotP, if you know what I mean... :D
Chapter 26 – Goodbye
"Say goodbye, these days are gone
And we can't keep holding on
When all we need is some relief
From these hard times."
-These Hard Times, Matchbox Twenty
·:·
The corridors were unusually silent, even for a Tuesday morning. It prickled uncomfortably at the back of his mind as Fred, barely covering a wide yawn, stumbled down the marble staircase with George only a step behind. Outside of the Great Hall, a group of students lingered, whispering to one another; he caught sight of Alicia and Katie among them, and with a grin started toward them.
"Not expelled, were you? Good," he said in form of greeting. The girls said nothing; Alicia looked at him, dully.
"You haven't heard, then?" murmured Katie. "Look inside. Go on."
Fred cocked an eyebrow, bemused, but nevertheless walked over to the grand doors that were propped open at this hour for breakfast; he peered along the four house tables, registering nothing out of the ordinary aside from maybe a bit more melancholy than usual in the silence. Then his eyes fell on the head table, and any appetite he previously had dissolved to ash.
Smug in her garish pink robes, Professor Umbridge was sitting in the center chair usually reserved for their headmaster. The other teachers were not looking at her. Unnerved, Fred went back to where the girls and George were waiting.
"What is it?" his twin demanded, his head tilted to the side. Fred shook his head, unable to answer.
"She put up Decree Number Twenty-Eight this morning," Alicia said, looking as if she had swallowed something very bitter. "Made herself Headmistress of the school."
The color drained from George's face. "But – but what about Dumbledore?" He looked between them anxiously.
"Gone," said Alicia.
"They couldn't have sacked him!" Fred exclaimed, with difficulty keeping his voice to a furious whisper.
"The Ministry tried to arrest him, apparently, but he didn't give them enough time to do so," Katie said flatly. "But it doesn't matter. He's gone, and all of us have detention for an indefinite amount of time ... you'll hear it soon enough, she had a whole speech a bit earlier."
Fred's fists clenched unconsciously; he swore vehemently under his breath, earning only sympathetic looks from the others. When he had somehow abated his flaring temper long enough to think straight, he seized George's wrist and marched off stiffly, leaving the girls concerned in their wake. He ignored the open doors to the Hall, turning off instead for the kitchens; after a few paces in silence down the corridor, he changed his mind and stopped short in his tracks.
"We've got to do something."
George cast a glance sideways at him, an eyebrow slightly raised.
Fred released his arm and instead began pacing the hall, up and down, his mind working furiously. "We can't let her do this. She's a monster, Forge, she'll destroy the school..." He trailed off, a terrible thought coming to him them; he recalled Umbridge's fervent campaign against half-breeds, Hagrid included, and looked again at his brother. Distant snide words arose in his mind: if he were able... He knew, with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that his brother would be next on her list.
George tilted his head, apparently thinking the same thing. "She can't just kick out students ... the board of governors wouldn't let her..."
Fred clenched his jaw defiantly. "I won't leave you. If she does, I'll go with you."
"You seem to be under the impression that I'd let her," George said, amused. "I've spent months ensuring that I can stay at school, and I'm not gonna let the toad stop me now. But if she still thinks she can..." George's air of amusement faded and he declared solemnly, "I'd rather leave of my own free will, wouldn't you?"
Fred nodded slightly, nevertheless unsettled. It wasn't that he wasn't determined, if it came down to it, to leave school with George; but he didn't want to see George further abused by Umbridge's regime.
George shifted then. "The joke stuff ... d'you think it's ready to sell?"
"Yeah. Enough to start, anyway," Fred concluded. Half of their stock was safely stowed in their room at home; what they currently were working on was scattered at the base of their Hogwarts trunks. It would be simple enough to pack them up ... Umbridge was watching all modes of communication out of the school, but they had that Hogsmede trip next weekend and they could sneak them out then ... His mind was mulling over a plan now, a tentative smile quirking his lips. Yes ... it could just work ...
Suddenly eager now that he had a prank idea in place, he grinned sideways at his brother. "Forge, is it just me, or have we been a bit too lenient on our dear toadish friend lately?"
"I think you have a point there," George noted delicately. "What do you suggest, then?"
"I think..." Fred grinned broadly, "...it's about time we give her a taste of what real mayhem is like."
·:·
They put their plan into effect that very morning; they put together all the fireworks they had produced in the last year or so, including Lee's additions of sparklers that spelled rude words in the air. George stood back, head tilted to the side as Fred and Lee set up the last of the fireworks. He was posed as sentry, but since it was the middle of class, their clandestine setup in the middle of the hall went primarily unnoticed.
"There!" Fred arrived beside him with a huff, dusting off his hands. "That's the lot of them."
"Should we light them all at once?" Lee asked meanwhile. George looked to his brother, who rocked back on his heels as he thought.
"Might as well," Fred concurred. "All of us, on the count of three."
They drew their wands, stepping a good distance back from the display as they did. George could imagine from their fervent work that there was probably a good fifty or so firecrackers lined up there, and deemed this a good precaution.
"One..." said Fred. "Two ... three!"
Three cries of "Incendio!" were lost in the resulting explosion; George flinched as heat blazed by his face, the bright sparks flashing across his vision in disorienting fashion. Above the bang and crackle of noise Fred was laughing wildly; Lee seized George's arm.
"That'll give her a turn," he grinned, "c'mon, let's move!"
They fled the scene of the crime, followed by the echoing whizz and bang of their work; as they ran a confused chorus of voices filled the corridors, students spilling out of classrooms to investigate the sudden light display crossing the castle. Somehow the twins and Lee made it to the safety of a secret door hidden behind a tapestry and behind it fell in a heap, shaking with stifled laughter.
"Oh God," said Fred, rolling off of a slightly crushed George and clutching his stomach. "I can't wait ... to see her face..."
"Should be a memorable first day as Head," Lee agreed. "Here. I'll time how long it takes for her to 'control' the situation."
"Don't bet on anything soon," George said breathlessly, sitting up and clutching a stitch in his side. "If she tries to vanish them, they'll multiply by ten."
"And that bit of brilliant spellwork was yours, wasn't it?" Lee approved. George grinned unabashedly as outside the tapestry someone started screaming girlishly.
"Ah, the sweet sound of success," Fred said dreamily. "I'd say Hogwarts is ours a little while longer."
·:·
Fred and George were hailed as heroes to the Gryffindors, and the memory of their enchanted fireworks display lingered on as the days slipped into Easter break. Professor Umbridge, even if she didn't have any proof of their involvement, seemed to be keeping an unusually close watch on the twins. Every evening, they endured the usual detention until their fists bled; even if the rest of the DA had been relinquished the night before holidays, their torture continued. Perhaps what unnerved her most of all was the fact that they didn't complain – nary a word passed between them from the time they entered her office to the moment the door closed again in their wake.
The reason for their silence was mainly this genius tactic of George's; he had convinced Fred that there was no real reason to disrupt the leisure time of the other students, but to endure a week of silence on the rebellion front just to increase apprehensions. Then, as soon as term commenced, they would strike, and this time there was no holding back. They didn't care about rules or consequences any more; without saying anything, they both knew it was only a matter of time now. George's days were numbered.
But the fact that they did not openly confront Umbridge didn't mean that they weren't working as hard as ever; oh, no. Morning, afternoon, and late evening the twins could be found poring over messily scrawled notes or preparing clandestine recipes in a steaming cauldron. The mass-production of everything from their favoured Skiving Snackboxes to the old favourite Canary Creams nearly took the entire break, and twice Fred 'borrowed' Harry's Invisibility Cloak to carry the finished products down to Hogsmede, where he shipped them out to the premises they'd secured in Diagon Alley.
Needless to say, they were quite pleased with their efforts, and Fred was convinced they had enough stock to last them until summer, if they had to leave this very minute.
The last Sunday evening of Easter break, Fred had run off again to take the last of the Snackboxes down to Hogsmede, and George was sitting up in the common room awaiting his return. He tugged absently at the sleeves of his jumper – Fred's this time, just in case he had to cover for him – and listened with one ear to the murmur of conversation around him.
A shuffling from near the portrait hole drew his attention and George rose, wondering if Fred was back already; then, however, he recognized the whispering voices.
"It's absolutely ridiculous, Harry! You'll risk getting expelled," Hermione hissed in warning.
"There's got to be some way," Harry protested, with an air of forced casualness. "I thought I'd just –"
"Haven't you been paying any attention all year?" Hermione cut him off brusquely. "You know Umbridge's watching all the Floo connections and searching the owls coming in and out –"
"What's going on?" George asked, approaching the trio. Hermione fell abruptly silent and he could almost sense them exchanging guilty glances.
"Harry wanted to talk with Sirius, that's all," Ron said at last. "C'mon."
"Wait," George said as they began to move off; he tilted his head, a thoughtful expression coming to his face. "Wait a sec. We might be able to help you there."
The three fifth years stopped short. "...How?" Harry asked, now curious.
"Well," George grinned, "surely you've noticed we've been particularly quiet on the mayhem front since the break."
"Yeah," said Ron. "So?"
"So," George went on confidingly, "that changes tomorrow morning. Fred and I have been planning something, as it were, and if we time things just right we could make you a decent diversion."
The portrait hole creaked next to them, and Fred arrived breathlessly next to his twin. "Mischief managed," he offered in a bare whisper, before turning on the fifth years. "What's this? Am I interrupting something here?"
George reiterated his plan, and Fred at once backed his claims; George knew from the shift in his tone alone that Fred was in full deviousness.
Hermione cut in exasperatedly, "None of this changes the fact that nothing gets in or out of the castle without her and her mongers finding out –"
"No," Harry said quietly. "That's not true ... she told me herself the only fire she's not got under watch is her own."
"You wouldn't!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I'll use Sirius's knife to get in," Harry continued. "I won't be long ... ten, fifteen minutes, I'd guess."
"Excellent," Fred said, rubbing his hands together. "We'll stir up enough trouble to draw her and the ol' Squad far away from her office – right after classes, there should be enough crowds and confusion then. Fifteen, twenty minutes, easy. For you, our friend."
"Thanks," said Harry, while Ron offered a suspicious, "What are you planning anyway?"
"You'll see, little brother," Fred said brightly, tugging George's sleeve so that he understood it was time to leave. Inclining his head, George finished for his twin, "...At least, you will if you come along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor about five o'clock tomorrow."
·:·
The twins made it to the safety of their upstairs dormitory before Hermione saw fit to put a stopper in their plotting. Still grinning in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat, Fred trooped toward his trunk and foraged out the materials they had planned for tomorrow's little spectacle. Tossing aside handfuls of rumpled clothes, he uncovered at last the false bottom; he dug beneath it with his fingers and hefted it out, gingerly, his grin broadening to catch sight of the last of their products in vibrant packaging.
They had been still testing these back in November, when ... distractions had put their creation on hold for countless months. Now – finally – Professor Umbridge would learn that there are some things you just don't mess with.
Through his thoughts, Fred distantly registered the silence in the dormitory; he shifted up on his knees, peering about, and caught sight of his brother lingering by the open window. By the dusky light, George was unsmiling, his brow leaned against the glass.
Fred frowned as well; he could sense unspoken the unease in his silence, and without a second thought abandoned his trunk and rose. Quietly he padded nearer and stood at George's shoulder.
His query, too, was voiceless, yet a moment later George shifted slightly, now trailing his fingertips over the windowsill as if to ingrain the touch in his mind. "This is it, Fred," he mumbled.
Fred tilted his head slightly. Tomorrow, he reckoned, they'd both charge headfirst out of the complacency they'd built up over the past weeks. And Professor Umbridge was likely going to want to murder them. It was for the best, they had agreed, to take their leave now, together, and go out with a bang.
"You know there's no point in staying any longer," Fred said flatly, sitting down on the ledge beside him.
"Yeah. I know."
George had turned away so that Fred couldn't read his expression in the deep shadows; instead, he leaned his head back against the window. "Listen," Fred tried again. "You know ... we both know what she'd do, if we stay –"
"I said, I know, Fred," George repeated, the slightest edge to his tone. It was gone when he went on, a silent moment later, "I ... I'm scared, 's all."
Fred stared at the outline of his twin's face in the dark. "Of what?"
George drew a shaky breath. "Of what will happen to us. What if it doesn't work out, Fred ... what'd we do then? ... God, what's Mum gonna think when she finds out –"
"Of course it's going to work, George," Fred said vehemently. "We didn't put years of work into the shop for nothing, you hear? Mum'll deal – and if not, there's nothing she can do to bloody stop us."
George didn't answer immediately. With a sigh Fred turned away; then, struck by a sudden idea, he fumbled for his wand. In his mind he conjured an image of their premises, as he had seen it last, what couldn't have been more than a few days ago. He had been dropping off a few of their more volatile products at the time among the numerous labelled orange boxes stashed in the back. He remembered wandering between the dark shelves – empty as of yet, but already he was taking a silent tally in his mind, knowing in a second this aisle would be for the fireworks, the next over the joke candies ... The windows at the front of the store were wide, illuminating dust motes trickling through the air, and Fred knew they would be perfect for showcasing their work once it was finished.
And, allowing that promise to fill him, Fred closed his eyes and breathed the two words. "Expecto Patronum."
All at once a soft glow flowed from the tip of his wand, tendrils of light weaving together to shape some mythical form as it glided in the air in front of him. Fred's breath caught in his chest as he watched the ethereal creature swoop about the dormitory, in its path leaving a feeble glow of light and a less tangible warmth that seemed to emanate from within him. Fred didn't look sideways to gauge George's reaction; yet, somehow shaking himself from his stupor, he directed the Patronus back toward them.
It complied, flying on wings of sweeping mist; then as gently as a falling feather it folded its wings and landed on the sill between them. Fred recognized in somewhat of a shock the proud, angular arches of the bird's head and piqued beak; the sweep of feathers gleaming silver in the darkness; the eyes that flashed with so much strength as it perched tall at his side.
Grinning, Fred looked up at his brother; in the rippling light he read wonder in George's wide eyes and tilted expression. "It's gonna be all right, George," he whispered, at the back of his mind noticing that, for the first time in long months, he could speak that claim with utter confidence. As though bolstered by his fierce honesty, George straightened.
With an echoing small smile, George raised his wand and reiterated the spell. In the pause the great bird at Fred's side opened its beak in a soundless cry and took flight; its light meandered around the room until it was joined by a second stream of light – fainter at first – but steadily strengthening until there were two birds casting their glow across the chamber. Each beat of wide-swept wings made the stretch of light shimmer and pool around them as the birds wheeled and dove around one another in a silent, mystical dance. And they watched, awed into the same silence.
"It's gonna be all right," George repeated at last, never turning away from the spectral show of light in front of them. He smiled faintly, leaning against the window beside Fred. "Thank you," he whispered, for what, Fred wasn't sure and he wasn't about to ask now.
Instead he watched the eagle and the crane dance fearlessly into the oncoming night, their glow hardly diminished by the dark that swallowed up everything around them.
To be continued...
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