A/N: I swear I'm working on chapters for my other stories, but this one is almost finished so its moving much faster. I'm sorry, I"m sorry. I know I haven't updated some of my other pieces in a long time, and I swear I am not on hiatus from any story. Though, for a few, I did need a break from some harsh anonymous reviewers.
I respect everyones opinion to tell me what they think, but please remember for everyone one: there is a fine line between berating someone and their creativity and leaving constructive criticism. I respect all constructive criticism but I will not tolerate bullying or harassment. Thank you.
Anyways, guys, we have eight chapters left! I've done some editing with the remaining characters, so I know I said there were more, but there's only eight now. The final eight! Here we go!
Please continue to review!
The last time Fred and George Weasley saw Ludo Bagman, it was after the end of the Triwizard Tournament when he was chased off by a group of nasty goblins he had gipped. He had conned the twins out of quite a bit of money themselves (all their savings that they had pooled into a bet at the World Cup - a bet which they had won, fair and square) and as far as they knew, he had gone underground after that. Their dad even said that Ludo had then resigned temporarily from the Ministry, having left Percy in charge for a few weeks until they found a replacement, and had taken off. And, as far as George had known up until now, he had never surfaced. He had always presumed that either Death Eaters or those angry goblins had finally caught up with him.
But now George was staring at another unexpected letter from someone from their distant past, someone who they held not the best relations with and thought dead for over twenty-five years.
"Seriously? Guess we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, huh?"
Eh. Maybe he's actually got something to say.
"You've said that about everyone." George huffed.
And I was right every time, was I not?
"Eh."
Well then.
George chuckled as he peeled the letter open. The parchment was brittle, as if it had gotten wet and then dried up, so he spent some time cracking the dried up folds.
"What even -" George said, trying not to let his frustration at the painstaking process force his hand, not wanting to rip the old parchment."How does something even get like this? It'll never open!"
Are you a wizard or not, old man?
"Oh. Right." George placed the letter on the bed beside him and pulled his wand from his sleeve. "Waddiwasi!"
The paper split apart with more force then he intended and he watched in shock as the old, shriveled up paper tore completely in two with a harsh, crackling sound.
"Oops." He hissed. "Reparo!"
The letter mended itself easily (thank Merlin) and George was relieved to see that it also remained unstuck. Carefully, afraid he might have overshot it a bit, George picked up Ludo Bagman's letter and held it close to his nose - and immediate realized why the letter had been stuck together.
"Merlin's saggy Y-fronts!" George gagged. "Did he piss on this?"
He always was a bit of a drunkard.
"A bit?" George gagged. "I think this is pushing it quite a bit further over that line, Fred. This damn thing reeks like Moaning Myrtle's toilet!"
Wow. Glad I can't smell right now.
"I wish I couldn't smell." George said.
Maybe try breathing through your mouth.
"You realize the last time you told me to breath through my mouth, you had somehow "forgotten" to inform me that you had just set off a string of dung bombs."
Not my fault you got sensitive taste buds or whatever.
"Dude I was tasting that stench for a week. Everything I ate tasted like troll toes."
Ew. That's gross.
"Yeah! My point exactly!"
Okay, so…hold your breath and read fast, I guess.
"Seriously? That's all you got?"
Got a better idea?
He didn't, but like hell would he ever admit that to his brother, in life or in death. Instead, he bit his tongue and sucked in a deep breath before bringing the piss-stained letter closer to his face and read as fast as possible whatever it was poor Ludo Bagman had to say.
Freddie boy. Fred - Frederick - Fredrick-son. Fred Weasley.
Howdy, buckaroo. 'Member me? Yer ol' pal, Ludo Bagman. Yeha, it's me alright. Good ol' Ludo. Betcha thought I was dead, huh, or, uh, maybe hiding away in some little hidey-hole I got stashed in some fine ass place like Bulgaria or Australia or Texas. Well, you'd be wrong on both counts son. I'm alive and kickin' and living right where I always have been - not that you'd know that. Not that anybody would know that. After all, who would ever come looking for Ludovic Bagman, the cheap con who's decades past his prime and just another useless washout.
Anyways, kid. Listen. I'm not exactly sober at the mo', but that's all the more reason to write this goddman thing that every body on the goddamn planet seems to be writing. A Letter to Fred. A Letter to Heaven.
Well. I, uh…I'm, uh….
Bloody Merlin. Okay. I'm sorry, Fred.
There. I said it. My soul can rest easy. Or - the whiskey can, at the very least.
I'm sorry. Last time we met, I- well, I was pretty rotten to you and your brother. Cheated you, I did. All your savings. You two made a helluva good bet, you did, and right on the nose. And then I went and did you wrong, giving ya both leprechaun gold 'stead of your winnings. No wonder you came after me all hellhound-like. But you have to understand that I was-I was in a lot of trouble back then. Debts to pay, bad bets I made, bets I officiated and then couldn't pay up because I took off with the money before the games were done. You weren't the only ones looking for me, demanding what I owed. S' why I made the bet on Harry during that Tournament. Thought I could collect at the end, settle everyone's scores. But then Harry, of course, goes and surprises every last one of us. Every damn time you think you got a line on that boy, he goes and does a complete 180 on ya. Every damn time.
So I made some mistakes. A loot of mistakes. More than my fair share, sure. And I'll be making loads more before I die, yep. That's not a threat or a promise, just a fact of life, kid. Ain't much more about it. About this.
The alcohol is wearing off. Not good. Need it to function. To forget what a bum I am, what a loser, what a miserable bastard I am. Don't need to sugar coat the truth.
I am not a horrible man. Nah, I'm not that hard on myself. But I made mistakes, and for those I can never properly atone. I can't go back and pay you the money you won. I can't go back and not make the thousands of bets that led to my life of ruin and drinking. And I can't go back and show up and fight in that final battle against Voldemort and his dark followers and maybe showed one last stand, showed everyone that I wasn't as washed up as they thought, that if I could be a hero, then there was hope for everyone…that if kids like you could be heroes far beyond your years, experiencing pain and loss like you shouldn't have to, then maybe I could…
But it's all in the past, and I don't like going back there too often cause it makes me think and thats what the alcohol helps numb.
I'll leave it here, then, Freddie boy. Leave this letter on the expressway to Heaven where you're sure to read it. Or maybe it'll go back to that brother of yours. Sure he could read it once or twice before tossing this in the trash where it belongs. Actually, I grabbed this paper out of the trash, so it probably reeks of booze or - Blimey. Probably shouldn't even send this. Not worth the owl.
Cheers
Ludovic "Ludo" Bagman
George folded the piss letter and aimed it at the trash can in the corner. He paused, staring hard at the can then back at this mess of a letter, a short apology written in a drunken state. Sighing, he placed it instead with the other letters, knowing, in his heart of hearts, that whatever haunted Ludo Bagman, whatever burdens and ghosts that poor man carried, maybe they both could rest easy knowing that this between the twins and him could be laid to rest.
