Well, it's about time I dusted this off. Sorry it took so long. Here's the next part. Thank you Spibro, for kicking me.
Over
And over
And over
Until I wrote this.
And then for laughing at all the right parts.
Bold italic writing is George's thoughts to his inner self
Plain italic writing is George's inner self
Yes, they are different. Don't ask me why, ask Georgette.
The Founders
George groaned as he slowly came around. His ear itched, but when he reached to scratch it, he found his hand was stuck behind him. He frowned and shook his head, trying to clear it. Why was everything so dark? His ear really itched too! Why couldn't he scratch it?
George struggled to pull his arm in front of him, yanking with such force that he fell over. "Ow," he said, only it came out as "Mmph." Some idiot had shoved a sock in his mouth! Or, at least, something that felt and tasted like a sock. One of Ron's old quidditch ones. George did know how those tasted. He tried to spit it out, but someone had taped his mouth closed with the sock in it. Now he was really getting pissed. His hands were stuck behind his back, he was chewing on one of Ron's dirty socks, he couldn't see, and HIS EAR ITCHED.
"I'm going to really kill Fred this time," George muttered. "And Ginny. I bet she's in on this too. At least they didn't cover me in slugs. I bet that was Ron's doing. He hates the mere mention of slugs after that incident several years ago."
Of course, no one understood him.
Wait, a little voice in George's mind suddenly said. Why go through all the trouble of tying me up and blindfolding me and gagging you? Couldn't they have just used some spells? Fred's not one to use muggle restraints on a wizard, especially not after graduating.
"Fred?" George asked hesitantly. "Fred, this isn't funny."
No answer.
George sighed, he had had a funny feeling he wouldn't get one. Besides, he always knew if Fred was nearby. It was a sixth sense, a twin thing. No Fred nearby. In fact, no Fred at all.
That was bad. Either Fred was hundreds of miles away, or Fred was dead. George whimpered, suddenly remembering the Death Eaters that had snuck up on him. He remembered bending over Fred and not being able to wake him. He remembered turning around and seeing the wands leveled at him. He remembered the many voices muttering the . . . wait, no, he didn't remember that.
He did remembering dreaming about Noko licking his nose.
But that wasn't important.
Oi! the little voice in his head yelled at him. Snap out of it!
Yes sir! George thought back. For some reason, the voice reminded him strongly of McGonagall. Or should I say, Yes ma'am?
Thank you for finally acknowledging me, your feminine side, the voice answered. George facevaulted.
WHAT!? Feminine side? I don't have a feminine side!
You do now. The voice sounded almost smug.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD, MCGONAGALL!
Why? It's fun!
George groaned and smashed his face into the dirt he was laying on. Okay, now I know you're not McGonagall. She'd never say something like that.
Curses! Foiled by my playfulness!
Shut up.
No.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No.
This is stupid.
Yes, it is. You're arguing with yourself, and losing. Badly.
George groaned again. What had those Death Eaters done to him? Was he going insane?
No, because insane people are always positive they're sane.
Thank you, little voice, George thought tiredly.
Call me Georgette.
What do you want?
I'm your conscience.
I thought you were my feminine side.
Can't I be both?
George didn't know what to say to that. The little voice - Georgette, continued on undaunted. Anywho, you're in a bit of trouble here, now aren't you?
No duh.
Well, there are two things you can do. Number one, lie around here like an idiot waiting for them to kill you as you mourn the tragic demise of your brother.
That doesn't sound good.
It's not.
Oh.
Option number two. Get yourself out of this mess.
That sounds hard.
But it'll be fun! Running amok and terrorizing the bad guys' plans? Come on, doesn't that appeal to your pranksterish side?
Are you going to drag him into this too?
Why not? Borris gets bored when you don't talk to him!
Borris?
You really should talk to your different sides more often, get to know them. Did you know Fred's prankster side is named Clyde?
CLYDE?
Yep.
Please go away, you're scaring me!
Okay.
Okay? That's it?
Hello?
I guess she's gone.
George fidgeted a moment on the ground before deciding Georgette was right. He really should get out of this mess. First things first though. By tilting his head to the left and raising his shoulder a bit, he could rub his ear.
Now that his ear didn't itch anymore, George was able to rub his mouth along the ground until the tape peeled off. He spat out the dirty Ron sock and tried to remove his blindfold. That took a bit more rubbing. He ended up scraping his nose up a bit before he pushed it up off his eyes. Stupid bad guys. Can't even blindfold a person properly. Now that he could see, George realized there was nothing to see. He was in a cell painted black. Where he assumed the door was, some light filtered in through black bars, illuminating the black walls and the black floor just a bit. And of course, George had to be wearing his black Hogwarts robes, trying them on to show his mother what good condition they were still in.
Figures.
George moved his feet experimentally, learning that they were shackled together, but not chained to anything. He inched his way over to the patch of light on the floor and twisted his head as far back as he could to try to see the handcuffs. George sighed. Whoever held him captive was an idiot. He pinched part of the cuffs in one hand and gave a sharp twist with the other. The cuff snapped open and George quickly freed his other hand. He then pulled the cuffs off his legs and stood slowly, rubbing his sore nose.
Now to get out.
And that's what happened to George! Woot!
That doesn't really do anything, except make you doubt George's sanity, does it? It really doesn't move the plot along in the least. ~sighs~ Oh well. It's a start, right?
~Crawler