Thursday evening
A knock resounded through the tall building, the sharp noise echoing around the quiet house. Ron's head snapped up from his cup of tea and his chair scratched across the floor while he reached for his wand. Even though the sun was just barely fading, somehow the knock set his nerves on edge and he gripped his wand tighter. The knock came again and he pushed the curtain aside slowly next to the door and cautiously peered out of it, his wand at the ready if a masked figure was waiting for him. But, there was no darkly clad witch or wizard, only a red haired freckled wizard waited impatiently on the porch.
Dropping his arm to his side in relief, Ron pulled open the door eagerly and embraced his brother while shouting, "Hey!" He stood aside and let George step into the entryway, noticing his strange look of apprehension and frantic eyes as he did so.
"Hey, Ron," he greeted, far less cheerfully.
"What's up?" Ron said, growing weary.
"Do you have a minute?" George asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Yeah, sure." He tried to keep calm and not show how fast George was making his heart race. "Do... do you want some tea?" George nodded distractedly and followed the taller Weasley into the kitchen.
"What's up?" Ron repeated while pouring hot water from the kettle into a second mug.
"Er…," George murmured and played with the string of the tea bag while perched carefully at the edge of his seat.
"You're scaring me, George," Ron admitted while watching his older brother carefully.
"What?" His eyes looked up filled with a clouded haze like he had forgotten where he was. "Oh… well, er… I was just wondering… I was thinking of maybe going to the store… tomorrow." Ron sat frozen in his seat, not sure about what to respond or if George even was expecting him to.
"Oh?" He managed.
"Can… can you come with me?" He whispered.
"Of course! I-"
"And can I stay here tonight? And don't let me back out."
"Yeah, of course. But… you know I'm still working tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. I thought we could just go whenever you get back. I didn't want Mum or Dad to pester me, that's all."
"Oh… Okay, sure." He took a small sip from his mug just to have something to do. George mimicked him while memorizing the lines of the familiar wooden table. "How is everything at home?"
"Weird without everyone there. I think I'll move back above the store at… at some point though." Ron nodded.
"Take your time, you know? Take the time you need."
"I know. I know. He'd want me to… to move on though." He took another sip of his tea and paused slightly before deciding to give in and just say whatever was on his mind. "I've been working on a new product line to help people affected by the war, actually."
"That's a great idea! What have you-" He was interrupted by a loud whoosh and the kitchen was lit in a momentary flash of bright green. Harry stepped out of the fireplace, briefcase in hand.
"Hey Ron," he called and stopped mid stride at the sight of a second Weasley in their kitchen. "Hey… George," he said partially as a question.
"Hi. I'm-er, I'm staying over tonight," he answered his unspoken question.
"Oh… Okay." Ron met Harry's eyes and he decided not to press George. "I'll make us some dinner then." He swung the brown briefcase that Hermione had gotten him for his birthday on the table so that the golden inscription reading "Professor H. J. Potter" faced him and laid his nice robes over the back of the chair closest him.
"I always forget you can cook," George commented. Harry smiled awkwardly and pulled some things out from the cupboards around the kitchen.
"So, what have you been working on?" Ron reminded George of their previous conversation and he knew Harry was listening intently to try and figure out what was going on.
"I think I perfected the Nightmare Nougat and Tremor Taffy, but the rest are still a while away."
"You made nougat that gets rid of nightmares?" Harry asked instantly, whipping around from the counter.
"Kind of. It won't get rid of everything, but it makes them more faded. They're a lot less realistic."
"I'll be the first in line when you come out with those." He shook his head and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his knuckles.
"You don't need to wait in line, Harry. You gave us our start-up money so you get first dibs on anything."
"Uh-huh." Harry shook his head, fully intent on paying for anything he takes.
"Here, let me help." Ron stood from the table and began chopping ingredients across the counter, leaving George to lay the plates and silverware at the table, feeling a mix between enjoyment at company other than his parents and the constant urge to be alone.
Friday Morning
Harry left Grimmauld Place just after Ron, leaving George to wile away the hours until Ron returned, promising to head back early. He raised his wand just after the fireplace spat him into his office and flicked it at a large chest resting against the far wall so that it levitated behind him as he made his way downstairs. Dropping his briefcase onto the front table and noting the ten minutes remaining until the final bell, he waved away the desks so that they stacked themselves against the edges of the room.
As per usual, the first group of students entered the classroom well before the bell, and they halted uncertainly at the lack of desks.
"Good morning," Harry greeted, fully enjoying their confused expressions. "You can set your things down along the sides and then just hang out for a bit until everyone else comes." The third year students did as he said and laid their bags down against the stacks of desks. He took out his attendance clipboard and bit his lips while desperately trying to remember their names.
"Can you remind me of your names?" Harry gave in.
"Maisie Cattermole," one hufflepuff responded with a shy smile.
"Cattermole… Are your parents Mary and Reginald, by any chance?" Her friend's eyes suddenly glued to her in awe that apparently their famous professor knew her family.
"Yeah. Actually… I'm supposed to give you this." She fished into her bag against the wall and hastily removed a letter which she handed to Harry, her eyes cast to the floor. "I wrote to my parents and told them you were my teacher."
"Oh. Well… thanks." He placed the closed letter under his briefcase and checked off her name on the clipboard. "Tell your Dad sorry about the puking." Maisie blushed profusely but promised to relay the message, even if she had no idea what he meant by it. More students entered the classroom, all repeating the same confused expression and following the lead of others by setting their things along the side before mingling about in the middle of the room that seemed much larger than it was before without the desks cluttering it.
"Good morning, everyone!" Harry called over the chatter after the bell began to silence them. "As you can probably guess, we're going to have another hands-on lesson today, so if you don't already have your wand with you, now would be a good chance to grab it." A few select students withdrew their wands from their bags, excitement permeating from each of them.
"Since this is only our third class together, I want to get to know you all a bit better, and what better way to do that than to learn about what you each fear the most." He smiled cheerfully at the front of the class and watched their eager faces fade into apprehension. "Does anyone have any idea as to what creature I am introducing?" The assembled semicircle remained determinedly silent. "Well, I am introducing something called a boggart." He stepped aside to reveal the heavy chest resting at the foot of his desk. "Has anyone heard of a boggart before?"
A few select students raised their hands tentatively. "Cattermole, what can you tell us about boggarts?"
"I think they're shape-shifters, right?"
"Correct. Five points to Hufflepuff. Boggarts change shape into something that the person standing in front of them is terrified of. So, everyone, please take a moment and imagine what terrifies you the most." Harry watched the clock hands move slowly around its circle until all of the third years were looking up, rather than the floor, and no more students had their eyes squeezed shut.
"Now, think of a way that you can make that terrifying thing funny, because laughter is what fights against a boggart. They will not die since they technically aren't alive, but they will disappear and will be forced to find another hiding spot." He paused again for another minute or two to allow his students to think before he continued.
"I already mentioned that laughter is a boggart's enemy, so the spell that I will be teaching you will cause your boggart to turn into whatever you're thinking of that's funny. No wands yet," he held out a hand to a group of students who were eagerly pointing their wands at the chest. "Just repeat after me: riddikulus."
"Riddikulus!" The class chanted back.
"When it's your turn, let the boggart change into its new form, then say the spell while fully focusing on what it could look like if it was funny. Understand? In order for the spell to work, you must focus entirely on that, and not the fear." He had the class form a line that quickly became diagonal so that every student could see what was happening at the front of the room.
"All right Jones, looks like you're up first," he said to the Slytherin boy at the front of the line. "Are you ready to give it a go?" He nodded firmly with a set look of determination and a few traces of fear.
"On three. One… two… three." Harry flicked his wand at the chest and a dragon emerged from the box, blowing fire and barring its fangs hungrily at the Slytherin. The rest of the class took a hesitant step back, but Harry was hardly fazed by the fake dragon. Instead, he turned to the student who had seized up and his hand was shaking.
"Turn it into something funny. Come on, Jones," Harry encouraged while leaning casually against the wall along the sides of the desk.
"R-Riddikulus!" He cried as the dragon got nearer. The dragon's fire immediately turned into confetti and the colorful paper rained down on top of the class. With a burst of laughter, the next student stepped forward and the boggart immediately became a zombie that started break dancing, then a snake that quickly had a baby's rattle for a tail, and then a house on fire that grew balloons and flew away.
Another Slytherin boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes stepped forward. The boggart whirled around midair and became a man closely resembling the student himself with his own wand in hand and he began to yell incoherently at the student; the man's mouth opened with no sound coming out, and the boggart's face was a bright and enraged red.
"Focus, Percell," Harry intoned quietly to the student. He nodded and soon, the man was wearing a ballgown and tripping over the hem. A vampire, a snake, a random Death Eater, and a werewolf filled the room, and the students each took their turn at the boggart. Then, the last student stepped forward from the disheveled remains of a line.
Maisie Cattermole took out her wand, her face pale, but set. She watched as the boggart swirled into a black fog and out stepped a pale man in dark robes and red snake-like eyes. The class backed against the wall with screams and Harry took a sharp intake of breath as Lord Voldemort stared down at the poor girl who began to shake violently. Instantly, Harry pushed himself off the wall to stand in front of her and he forced himself to lock eyes with the boggart version of Tom Riddle once more, feeling his chest itch and his scar beginn to burn, before it changed into a dementor.
He lazily cried "Expecto Patronum!" and watched calmly as the silver stag chased the dementor back into its case. He turned immediately to lay a comforting hand on Maisie's shivering shoulder and whispered "Are you okay?" She nodded fervently and quickly walked back into the group of students where her friend wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders.
"Okay, guys. Great job today! For homework, write a page about anything to do with boggarts. It can be the history of the spell, famous boggarts in the muggle world, where to find them, how to identify them, anything that you find interesting." The bell rang and the class began to swing their bags back over their shoulders and leave the class with very few backward glances and lots of excited chatter.
"Percell, can I have a quick word?" He called at the boy's retreating figure. He froze and turned slowly on the spot, eyes wide. "No, you're not in trouble," Harry chuckled, but refused to say anything more until the door closed behind the last student.
"Do you mind telling me who your boggart was?"
"Er…," he brushed aside a stray lock of dark hair and stared at Harry's shoes. He mumbled a reply barely under his breath and Harry actually leaned forward to try and hear it better.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," he said brightly.
"My Dad! It- it was my Dad."
"Ah," Harry replied, his suspicions confirmed. "Does anyone else know?"
"One of my friends kind of does," he mumbled, shuffling his feet.
"Do you want to talk?" He asked quietly with a flick of his wand so that a single desk flew out from the stack and landed gently beside the Slytherin. The kid dropped his bag onto the desk, but said nothing.
"You know, the family that I had to live with for years were terrible to me too." Harry pushed himself onto the front desk with his hands on the edge, still trying to catch a glimpse of his face. "You don't have to tell me anything, just know that you always can." Percell picked up his bag again and looked up at him carefully.
"Thanks," he said softly before starting to hurry out of the room.
"Wait!" The young boy slowed down and turned slightly so that he turned over his shoulder to face Harry. With a gentle pang in his chest from remembering when the tables were turned, Harry leaned back to pull open the top drawer of the desk and removed a purple wrapped bar of Honeydukes chocolate. "Here." He held it out to Percell who tentatively took it, murmured thanks, and scurried out of the classroom, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Harry leaned back with a sigh, still watching the closed door, and felt his hand scrape some parchment, instantly reminding him of the Cattermole's letter. He tore it open, more out of curiosity than anything.
Mr. Potter,
My eldest daughter told me that you're a professor now. She's very excited (as is most of the school, I'm sure) and I must admit that I am too. Obviously, I didn't write this letter just to tell you that we're excited. I really wrote it to say thank-you.
You saved us that day at the Ministry, along with all of the other muggle-borns. It was a rather strange experience to read about the event in the Prophet already somewhat knowing what happened that day. By the way, now that we know what happened, my husband and I have had quite a few laughs about him throwing up in an almost-empty alleyway. It's safe to say that I was very lucky to have my hearing on that day and you deserve all of the happiness in the world for how you helped our family as well as countless others.
Eternally thankful and endless well wishes,
Mary Cattermole
Harry smiled to himself and tucked the parchment into his briefcase, writing a mental note to show Hermione and Ron just as his next class filed into the room and the process of explaining what a boggart is began again.
"George, I'm back!" Ron's voice crashed through the house and the sound of heavy footfalls responded as George thudded down the flights of stairs. He swung around the banister just as Ron emerged from the kitchen door. "Told you I'd get back early."
George smiled faintly and nodded mutely.
"Do you want to go now?"
"Sure," he replied, forcing his voice to remain neutral and not give away the chaos ensuing inside. "Can you do side-along apparition?" Ron nodded and George gripped onto his arm tightly, waiting for the smothering darkness to engulf them. They breathed again once their feet hit the solid stone of Diagon Alley and the crisp September air brushed against them, so different from the must of Grimmauld Place.
Neither of them had been to Diagon Alley in quite some time, but it now at least resembled the street that they came to love as children. The shops were all mostly open and colorful, and friends or families with small kids made their way around the street, talking idly with shopping bags draped on their arms. Ron looked around curiously, noticing that the light inside Ollivander's was on and the street was decidedly free from flyers and propaganda. George's eyes were glued to one store near the end of the row with its brilliant red gleaming in the light and a giant figure of a twin tipping his hat to the witches and wizards.
Before Ron could notice, George strode off pushing between the happy people, not truly caring how many he had to shove on his way. He stopped abruptly outside the store and gazed up at the figure's face, entirely sure that it more closely resembled Fred.
"You all right?" Ron heaved after finally catching up to him. George gave a quick nod to show he heard more than anything, but continued to stare at its face. Ron left his side momentarily to rip off the last few flyers labeling Harry as "Undesirable No. 1" from the hidden side of the building pressed against the shop next to it, and stared at the face of his best friend, suddenly getting lost in his own memories too. Neither of them noticed the odd looks from strangers or how much time had passed. Eventually, George took a small step towards the door and the movement in his peripheral vision brought Ron back to his senses too. He shoved the flyer into his pocket and watched his brother carefully.
He watched as George took out his wand and tapped the handle of the door, muttering the password and the door popped open. Without thinking, he grabbed the handle and stepped just over the threshold, letting Ron catch the swinging door and stand beside him, barely inside the store.
Ron took out his own wand and cast a ball of light to the center of the store, allowing them to see the disarray through the fading and hazy light outside. The remains were still as colorful and bright as ever, but the boxes of product were open and spilled; the shelves toppled; dust layering every surface. George stepped over the rubbish to an orange box with their signature W on its cover and held it close to his chest before sinking to the floor, his eyes resolutely dry.
Following suit, Ron sank to the floor next to him and continued to observe the store with a pang in his chest that he knew must be at least a million times worse for George. He laid a hand on his elder brother's shoulder and noticed his quick breathing and fidgeting hands.
"Do you want to talk?" he whispered. George remained silent for at least a minute.
"He's everywhere," he said simply, his voice weak. The large store felt like it was closing in on him, Ron's hand felt strangely distant, and his chest was nothing but a gaping pit. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close and he had no energy to try and resist. He couldn't find it in him to cry, to shout, to scream. He had no energy to move a single muscle or say a single word. It didn't matter anyways. Because he wasn't there to do it with him. He wasn't there to laugh at their remnants of their dream store and cheerfully clean it up. He wasn't there to tease the others or to make jokes to lighten the mood. It was simple, yet so agonizing. Three words that tore his whole world apart. Three words that made every part of his body ache. Three words that dimmed the light of the whole world: he wasn't there.
More than an hour later, Ron's back ached and his arm was sore from holding George, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he checked his watch and nervously glanced at him, wondering desperately how to get him home for dinner.
"George?" he whispered and he felt him jerk slightly at the noise. "Do you want to go back for dinner?"
He nodded dully and allowed Ron to pull him to his feet and lead him out onto the less crowded street. After a quick reminder from Ron, he tapped his wand to the doorknob to lock it before grabbing to arm again and slipped away into the darkness.
Harry threw open his briefcase the moment the last fifth year student left the room that afternoon and grabbed a folded piece of parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ink swirled around on the page, criss-crossing and creating a map of Hogwarts. He hastily scanned the Gryffindor Common Room, then the library and found Hermione's dot seated next to Ginny, Luna, and two other students he didn't know.
"Shoulda known," he mumbled to himself with a smile before setting off through the castle, avoiding clumps of students and almost running over Flitwick. "Sorry Professor!" Harry called over his shoulder while continuing to jog through the corridor filled with talking students, largely hiding his disgruntled "Potter!". At least most students seemed to be getting used to having him around the school so he was getting far less blatant stares and whispering in his direction.
Once in the quiet library, he peeked at the map again and found their dots sitting at a hidden table in the far corner. He crossed through the stacks of books and tables of students and turned at the last shelf.
"Hey, Harry!" Ginny said quietly with a wave.
"Hey." He collapsed into the open seat next to Hermione. "Mischief Managed." He tapped his wand to the page and watched the ink disappear before tucking it back into his pocket and pulling out the letter. "What are you working on?"
"DADA, coincidentally. My dear brother is making us write an essay for practically every class," Ginny complained heavily.
"This is only our second essay, Ginny," Hermione chided.
"Yeah, out of three classes!"
"I actually gave out homework today," Harry butted in conversationally. Ginny snorted loudly and quickly covered her mouth out of embarrassment while Hermione just looked at him rather scandalized.
"You haven't assigned any homework before now?"
"I told them to practice." He shrugged. "What? I taught more than Umbridge in the DA with no homework whatsoever."
"You're comparing your teaching methods to her? I'm pretty sure I learned more from Lockhart than her," Ginny added.
"Lockhart is actually a vampire, you know," Luna poked her head above the book that she was reading vertically. "He was quite a weird teacher."
"That he was, Luna." Ginny's other two friends still said nothing, but watched the conversation play out eagerly. "Here, Hermione. Mary Cattermole's kid gave it to me."
"Cattermole?" She asked instantly and dropped her pen. Harry nodded and handed her the letter, watching her eyes scan it line by line.
"Who are the Cattermoles?" Ginny asked after a confused glance at Luna.
"Ron impersonated the Dad and then I broke into the wife's hearing last year at the Ministry."
"That was nice of her," Hermione handed the note back.
"I told their daughter to tell her Dad 'sorry about the puking.'"
"And kissing his wife," Hermione laughed.
"I forgot about that." Harry grinned and tucked the letter away. "What is Bill teaching you right now?"
"Just review of nonverbal spells at the moment."
"He lets us jinx each other during class. It's great," Ginny commented wistfully.
"It is quite fun," Hermione admitted before picking up her pen again.
"I taught the third years boggarts today. I think they enjoyed it."
"You taught that right after a war?" Hermione asked incredulously, her pen hovering over the page stationary.
"They were only second years last year! It wasn't like any of them were too involved with what was going on."
"Still," Ginny replied darkly.
"Only one of them turned into Voldemort." All five girls stared at him, Ginny and Hermione stared incredulously, Ginny's two friends were shocked, and Luna looked simply intrigued.
"You're an idiot," Ginny responded firmly and shook her head.
"Harry…" Hermione started softly.
"I stopped it before it did anything!" Hermione opened her mouth again, but Harry cut her off. "It was fine! They were all still talking after."
"Was yours still a dementor?" Ginny asked, closing her book and giving up on doing her homework.
"Yeah."
"My boggart is a Umgubular Slashkilter," Luna said in her dreamy voice. Hermione just shook her head, but learned to say nothing.
"Mine is a diary," Ginny admitted.
"Mine has probably changed," Hermione added, thinking that McGonagall telling her she failed everything is definitely not as bad as Bellatrix's torture, or Voldemort with his victorious army, or Harry dead in Hagrid's arms, or Ron lying dead like the visions in her frequent nightmares.
The next morning, George returned to Diagon Alley along with Ron and Harry, but he managed to apparate himself so the three of them landed in various spots across the beginning of the street. Ron and George began walking briskly towards the store, leaving Harry to jog behind them since he landed the furthest away. He pushed through the Saturday crowds, keeping their red hair in his sight. But, in his haste to reach them, he failed to realize his hair was parted just so to let his scar show and that, combined with his wire rimmed glasses, were all but a give away.
A wizard stopped abruptly and held it out his arm that caught another wizard around his chest. "Excuse me, are you, by any chance, Harry Potter?" Harry glanced down at the elder man for half a second before standing on his tiptoes again to try and find the two redheads who were already lost among the crowd.
"Yeah, nice to meet you," Harry said, fighting the temptation to swear dramatically under his breath, and choosing instead to hurry the interaction along as much as possible.
Meanwhile, George had just unlocked the door and Ron stood by, scanning the crowd for their third, but refusing to stray too far from George's side. With a last backward glance and a forceful command telling his conscience that Harry wasn't in trouble, he entered the messy store and left the noisy shoppers behind them.
"Do you want to look around a bit?"
"Yeah, sure," George replied with ease. Something in his stomach had settled since yesterday; he still saw his lost half everywhere he looked, but now it made him feel like he was beside him rather than long gone and just replaying distant memories. The empty pit in his stomach still ached like it always did, but his steps felt lighter and his mind clearer. He walked lazily around the bottom level of the store, hands resolutely in his pockets, grateful that Ron trailed behind him in silence.
A silence that was quickly broken. They turned to see Harry outside the door, knocking with his lips pressed tightly together. Ron hurriedly pushed it open to let his clearly disgruntled friend out of the crowds of people, and bit back a smirk suddenly guessing exactly what had happened.
"Did someone recognize you?" Harry nodded with a sigh.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "And then called all of their friends over."
"You're too famous for your own good," Ron chuckled.
"You're telling me." Ron rolled his eyes while a dull buzz erupted from deep in his pocket. Ron nearly jumped out of his skin, but it was now Harry's turn to roll his eyes as he held up the flip phone as an explanation.
"Hello?" He said into it. Luckily, Hermione had managed to put plenty of charms and spells on the basic device so that it could work in magical locations too.
"Hey, Hermione!" Harry said cheerfully into the phone after he recognized her voice. Ron's head instantly snapped up and his cheeks grew prematurely warm. He paused, listening to her fuzzy voice on the other end. Surprisingly, Hogwarts' reception was less than ideal. "What, you don't want to talk to me?"
"I know you saw me yesterday, but I thought we were friends," he said in a playful voice, dodging Ron's hands reaching for the phone.
"Okay, okay. Here he is." He gave in and passed the phone along before walking towards where he last saw George's red hair flicker between shelves. He found him attempting to right a toppled over shelf that was far too heavy for him. Harry wordlessly grabbed the other side and pushed on the metal frame as hard as he could.
"It's nice to do things by hand sometimes," George explained, worried that Harry would think he was insane. He clapped his hands together to get the dust off and faced him resolutely, prepared for any snide comments about him not using a wand.
"I get it," he replied instead, thinking of the satisfaction it had once brought him to dig Dobby's grave by hand rather than by wand.
"Yeah, I guess I should have known you would." Staring at the dirty shelf that was no longer laying on the floor, George pulled out his wand and flicked the dust away. "Then again, magic is much easier," he mused, not entirely sure where his humor is coming from. Harry mimicked his action and vanished a pile of broken and empty boxes that had been crushed by the fallen shelf.
"How are you doing? Being back here and all that," Harry asked.
"It's… easier today. Yesterday was impossible, but today… I don't know. I just feel more determined to get the store running again because I know it's what he would want." Harry nodded, letting their silence fall over them comfortably. "I still see him everywhere, but it's kind of like a comfort, for today at least."
"That's good, then."
"But, at the same time, it feels wrong to be sitting here, alive, and working on our store when he isn't with me. But, I know he wouldn't want me to give up on the store. It just feels… it's hard," he finished lamely, unable to find the words to explain the chaos that remained in his heart and mind.
"It's really hard," Harry whispered. They vanished and cleaned a few more things in their sights as they slowly walked through the store, enjoying each other's company.
"When… when you … no, never mind. Forget it," George shook his head, immediately regretting even the start of his question.
"No, what is it?" Harry pressed. He met his eyes and watched him bite his lip, clearly trying to decide whether it was worth it or not to speak his mind.
"Well…," George's eyes darted between Harry's face and his own shoes. Then, in a barely audible voice and his eyes wide and glistening, he asked "When you visited Godric's Hollow, did you ever wish that you had died instead?"
"More than you know, George. And not just when I visited Godric's Hollow," he admitted with a bitter laugh. George nodded with a frown, trying not to read too far into his statement, but Harry ended up elaborating on it slightly on his own. "After Voldemort hit me with the curse in the forest, I really didn't want to go back. Dumbeldore kind of had to convince me to not just… just 'go on,' as he put it." George paused and turned towards Harry, his wand arm dropping to his side.
"For what it's worth, I'm glad he managed to convince you. And I'm guessing the rest of the wizarding world is too."
He scoffed resentfully and with a hint of sarcasm, said, "Thanks, George."
George smiled. "My pleasure." They walked a little ways further, lost in their own thoughts. "It's just so unfair. That I lived and he died, or that… it's just… urgh! Life is so bloody unfair!" George shook his head, unable to put it into words properly.
"Trust me, I know," Harry said with a genuine laugh.
"More than most, that's for sure," George replied with a grin and he swung his arm around his shoulders like a brother. Harry stumbled under the added weight but laughed all the same at George's statement, trying to ignore how true it felt. They made a circle around the floor level, clearing the space just like at Grimmauld Place until they saw Ron sitting with his back against the door frame holding the phone to his ear and smiling. Once he glanced up and saw them, he said his last few words and hung up before pushing himself to his feet and dusting off his jeans.
"You look happy," Harry commented with his hand outstretched for the phone.
"Phones are amazing," he said simply, his eyes alight with joy.
"Aren't you seeing her next weekend at Hogsmeade?" George asked bemusedly.
"Yup. Should we clean the next floor?" Ron didn't wait for an answer but flicked his wand at the steps and the banister to rid it of dust and walked right between them on his way to march up the stairs. George and Harry exchanged an amused glance before following after him, all of their spirits somehow lighter than when they arrived.
Another chapter done! Hope you all enjoyed, and as always, I would love any reviews or suggestions that you have for me!