George Weasley's wife, Amare Weasley, was not what many would call a pretty woman.
Green eyes peered out from a narrow and almost triangular face, crowned by long and straight
brown hair. Not even Fred had recognized the beauty that George had seen, simply because what
everyone else pointed to as the reasons she was not pretty, were all the reasons why he thought
she was beautiful. George smiled even more broadly than the small, clever, "I know something
you don't know" smile that was usually displayed on his face, and turned his attention to the
latest thing that she said.
"You always spend so much time at work, George. I wish you'd stay home more."
George shrugged. "We're just having trouble with getting the business running. Besides,
next month it's Fred's turn to handle the heavy work. I'll be home then."
Amare sighed. "I know. I'm just worried about you."
"There's nothing to be worried about. But I appreciate it." George smiled, then turned at a
knock on the door. Amare stood up and went to it.
Fred looked up as she entered. "Hey, Ame. Could I talk to George for a second?"
Amare nodded. "Sure. Come on in." Fred nodded and entered, then looked around to see
Fred standing in a doorway.
"George. I finished those numbers a little while ago. That was when I got out the best
broom I could find from my stores."
"Either it's really good or it's really bad news. Just tell me which one."
"See for yourself." Fred threw a scroll in George's direction, which he caught deftly.
George looked at Fred for a moment before opening it, and his body immediately
drooped in sadness. Amare shook her head quietly as George spoke. "This is bad, Fred."
"Very bad." Fred acknowledged.
Amare butted in. "How bad exactly?"
"Very bad." Fred repeated.
"How bad is very bad?"
"Worst month ever bad."
"Oh."
"Yes.
"Really?"
Fred broke out into laughter. "No!" He howled. "No. Actually, I just wanted to give George
the good news."
Amare's face instantly broke into an angry glare. "You tricked me! When will you two
ever tire of tricking me!"
George chuckled. "Never, love," he said at the same time as Fred said "When George
becomes a Malfoy, Ame."
Amare's anger cracked quickly. "Of course. That's why when someone says 'the twins'
everybody thinks of you."
"Precisely. Personality sells." George replied.
"So it does." Fred continued.
Mrs. Weasley sighed. "What will I do with you?"
"Nothing."
"You could try."
"Just keep your hands away from the candy if you do."
Amare groaned. "You're impossible."
"We are." The two said in unison.
Harry Potter Apparated quickly outside of the castle that, reports said, Pansy Parkinson
was residing in. As the rest of his small Hit Wizard squad Apparated in behind him, he nodded.
"Let's go."
The first room, or hallway, as it turned out to be, was quite long. It also featured no
mysterious creatures, giving Harry his first hint that something strange was going on. Any self-
respecting upstart dark wizard would pack their front hall with at least a few bodyguards. Of
course, most of them locked their doors, too.
The next one was a junction. The Hit Wizard Lieutenant disliked junctions. He had nearly
lost people because they'd been forced to split up. The problem was that if they tipped off
Parkinson by heading down a corridor, especially if it were the wrong one, she would get away.
So they split up. Harry took the forward one, knowing it would lead to the throne room, the one
most likely to house someone so arrogant that they wouldn't even house their front hall with
guards.
Unfortunately, he was right. The door opened easily, and Pansy Parkinson was indeed
behind it. She was sitting on the throne. She was also using twice as many beauty products and
spells as she had been at Hogwarts, and she had succeeded in making herself look actually rather
good. Harry had a feeling she'd popped potions with the policy that 'it couldn't possibly look
worse.' She smiled as he entered, a smile that told Harry something was wrong. He raised his
wand, began speaking the words that would imprison her, the words of the spell he had formed
himself. "Li-"
Even as he did, Pansy Parkinson lifted up the gold chain she was wearing, revealing a
small gold arrow charm at the very end of it. She tore off the charm, and just as the Hit Wizard
began the spell, she threw it, and he didn't have time to dodge as it embedded itself in his wrist.
He looked down at it- and suddenly his head was thrown upwards again. No one had
touched him, but as it went upward, he saw Parkinson had the kind of expression that indicated
that she had complete control over what was going on.
"That arrow embeds in you a potion that gives its thrower complete control over your
body. It isn't quite the Imperius Curse, which works well for me. First, it isn't Unforgivable.
Second, you can't fight it off."
Harry tried to respond, but found he could not open his mouth. Parkinson continued. "If I
wanted to kill you, I could crush every organ in your body in under a second. You would die
instantly. But I don't want you for that. No, I want something else. I need a servant, and you,
Harry Potter, will do fine for me. Here, the rest of your squad will be coming back soon. We
wouldn't want them to suspect anything, so we'll just put you behind that curtain over there."
Harry found himself moving, and soon he was behind the curtain, with only a slightly
dulled view of what would happen. He watched in horror as the first came back to the junction,
looked up the corridor to see what Harry had found, and only saw green light. The next one,
however, was more prepared. He heard the word 'stupefy,' and saw the spell bounce harmlessly
off of Parkinson and end up instead knocking out some member of a former royalty in a painting.
That one died, too. No splatter of blood, no nothing, just that horrible green light.
The next one Harry couldn't quite make out through the thickness of the floor-length
curtain that was hiding him, but he was fairly sure whoever it was wasn't from his squad. He saw
the wand, however, and saw the Killing Curse spew from it, killing Parkinson.
Instead of the freedom he'd hoped for from the demise of Parkinson, he felt his lungs
begin to hurt. It got worse very quickly, and suddenly he could not breathe. He choked and fell
forward, the curtain coming up to accommodate him, and his eyes, wide open in the shock of the
sudden, searing pain, saw Hermione standing in the door, her wand falling to her side, as two
very sweaty and tired Hit Wizards ran up behind her. Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic
Department of Magical Law Enforcement Hit Wizard Lieutenant First Class Harry James Potter
saw this image as he fell into the blissful unfeeling black of unconsciousness.
Green eyes peered out from a narrow and almost triangular face, crowned by long and straight
brown hair. Not even Fred had recognized the beauty that George had seen, simply because what
everyone else pointed to as the reasons she was not pretty, were all the reasons why he thought
she was beautiful. George smiled even more broadly than the small, clever, "I know something
you don't know" smile that was usually displayed on his face, and turned his attention to the
latest thing that she said.
"You always spend so much time at work, George. I wish you'd stay home more."
George shrugged. "We're just having trouble with getting the business running. Besides,
next month it's Fred's turn to handle the heavy work. I'll be home then."
Amare sighed. "I know. I'm just worried about you."
"There's nothing to be worried about. But I appreciate it." George smiled, then turned at a
knock on the door. Amare stood up and went to it.
Fred looked up as she entered. "Hey, Ame. Could I talk to George for a second?"
Amare nodded. "Sure. Come on in." Fred nodded and entered, then looked around to see
Fred standing in a doorway.
"George. I finished those numbers a little while ago. That was when I got out the best
broom I could find from my stores."
"Either it's really good or it's really bad news. Just tell me which one."
"See for yourself." Fred threw a scroll in George's direction, which he caught deftly.
George looked at Fred for a moment before opening it, and his body immediately
drooped in sadness. Amare shook her head quietly as George spoke. "This is bad, Fred."
"Very bad." Fred acknowledged.
Amare butted in. "How bad exactly?"
"Very bad." Fred repeated.
"How bad is very bad?"
"Worst month ever bad."
"Oh."
"Yes.
"Really?"
Fred broke out into laughter. "No!" He howled. "No. Actually, I just wanted to give George
the good news."
Amare's face instantly broke into an angry glare. "You tricked me! When will you two
ever tire of tricking me!"
George chuckled. "Never, love," he said at the same time as Fred said "When George
becomes a Malfoy, Ame."
Amare's anger cracked quickly. "Of course. That's why when someone says 'the twins'
everybody thinks of you."
"Precisely. Personality sells." George replied.
"So it does." Fred continued.
Mrs. Weasley sighed. "What will I do with you?"
"Nothing."
"You could try."
"Just keep your hands away from the candy if you do."
Amare groaned. "You're impossible."
"We are." The two said in unison.
Harry Potter Apparated quickly outside of the castle that, reports said, Pansy Parkinson
was residing in. As the rest of his small Hit Wizard squad Apparated in behind him, he nodded.
"Let's go."
The first room, or hallway, as it turned out to be, was quite long. It also featured no
mysterious creatures, giving Harry his first hint that something strange was going on. Any self-
respecting upstart dark wizard would pack their front hall with at least a few bodyguards. Of
course, most of them locked their doors, too.
The next one was a junction. The Hit Wizard Lieutenant disliked junctions. He had nearly
lost people because they'd been forced to split up. The problem was that if they tipped off
Parkinson by heading down a corridor, especially if it were the wrong one, she would get away.
So they split up. Harry took the forward one, knowing it would lead to the throne room, the one
most likely to house someone so arrogant that they wouldn't even house their front hall with
guards.
Unfortunately, he was right. The door opened easily, and Pansy Parkinson was indeed
behind it. She was sitting on the throne. She was also using twice as many beauty products and
spells as she had been at Hogwarts, and she had succeeded in making herself look actually rather
good. Harry had a feeling she'd popped potions with the policy that 'it couldn't possibly look
worse.' She smiled as he entered, a smile that told Harry something was wrong. He raised his
wand, began speaking the words that would imprison her, the words of the spell he had formed
himself. "Li-"
Even as he did, Pansy Parkinson lifted up the gold chain she was wearing, revealing a
small gold arrow charm at the very end of it. She tore off the charm, and just as the Hit Wizard
began the spell, she threw it, and he didn't have time to dodge as it embedded itself in his wrist.
He looked down at it- and suddenly his head was thrown upwards again. No one had
touched him, but as it went upward, he saw Parkinson had the kind of expression that indicated
that she had complete control over what was going on.
"That arrow embeds in you a potion that gives its thrower complete control over your
body. It isn't quite the Imperius Curse, which works well for me. First, it isn't Unforgivable.
Second, you can't fight it off."
Harry tried to respond, but found he could not open his mouth. Parkinson continued. "If I
wanted to kill you, I could crush every organ in your body in under a second. You would die
instantly. But I don't want you for that. No, I want something else. I need a servant, and you,
Harry Potter, will do fine for me. Here, the rest of your squad will be coming back soon. We
wouldn't want them to suspect anything, so we'll just put you behind that curtain over there."
Harry found himself moving, and soon he was behind the curtain, with only a slightly
dulled view of what would happen. He watched in horror as the first came back to the junction,
looked up the corridor to see what Harry had found, and only saw green light. The next one,
however, was more prepared. He heard the word 'stupefy,' and saw the spell bounce harmlessly
off of Parkinson and end up instead knocking out some member of a former royalty in a painting.
That one died, too. No splatter of blood, no nothing, just that horrible green light.
The next one Harry couldn't quite make out through the thickness of the floor-length
curtain that was hiding him, but he was fairly sure whoever it was wasn't from his squad. He saw
the wand, however, and saw the Killing Curse spew from it, killing Parkinson.
Instead of the freedom he'd hoped for from the demise of Parkinson, he felt his lungs
begin to hurt. It got worse very quickly, and suddenly he could not breathe. He choked and fell
forward, the curtain coming up to accommodate him, and his eyes, wide open in the shock of the
sudden, searing pain, saw Hermione standing in the door, her wand falling to her side, as two
very sweaty and tired Hit Wizards ran up behind her. Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic
Department of Magical Law Enforcement Hit Wizard Lieutenant First Class Harry James Potter
saw this image as he fell into the blissful unfeeling black of unconsciousness.