(A/N: A quick word for those who are returning to this story, it has been completely edited. Every chapter has been replaced with a newer version as of 2/28/22.)
Chapter 21
"Too late?" demanded Hermione.
"Boys!" McGonagall yelled.
"That," George said.
Professor McGonagall pierced Sirius, and James with a disapproving glare for their flagrant disregard of her rules. Instead of their wands, they were holding a tin parrot, and a rubber haddock.
"Detention the pair of you."
"But, Professor," Sirius protested. He unintentionally waved the haddock. Her lips thinned. He dropped the offending item.
"We don't…" James began. Her nostrils flared. He stuffed the parrot into his bag.
"Enough." Professor McGonagall halted their explanations. "I do not tolerate shenanigans in my classroom as you well know." They bowed their heads.
"Take out your real wands, and begin transfiguring your partner."
"You switched their wands?" Hermione asked. Harry, and George nodded sheepishly.
"Yes, but in our defense," George said at Hermione's narrowed eyes. "It was supposed to happen in charms. Flitwick would have laughed."
"How were we to know we wouldn't be using our wands." Harry defended.
"Great job," Hermione snarked. She rolled her eyes, and partnered with Lily.
"Barnes, Walker, get to work." McGonagall paced. The smallest infraction resulted in immediate correction.
James, and Sirius fled the confines of McGonagall's domain as soon as transfiguration ended.
"I don't know what happened," whined James. "One minute I'm holding my wand. The next it's turned into this." He pulled the tin parrot from his bag. He shook it for emphasis.
"Like I would parade a rubber haddock in McGonagall's class," complained Sirius. "A detention when we're not even guilty." The injustice rankled.
"Do you expect us to believe you're not responsible?" Lily asked. Their innocent confusion was almost convincing. Almost. "You're always causing trouble."
"Think about it. Are we stupid enough to get caught?" James challenged.
"Do you want me to answer that?" Lily quipped.
"Ha ha, Evans."
The group marched to lunch in the rhythm of protests issuing from James, and Sirius.
"Don't feel bad," Remus said. He sat next to George. He aimed a consoling smile at Harry across the table. "They were due a detention. Are trick wands one of your products?" The idea of a joke shop struck him as ingenious. George was well on his way considering the impressive fireworks, and sweets.
"Yeah."
"Clever. Flitwick would have been amused."
"That's what we thought," George said. One glance at Hermione quelled his giddiness.
The discussion rehashing the undeserved detention irritated Sirius. He rolled his neck. He caught sight of Remus, and George.
"Hey, Prongs." He nudged James. He jutted his chin. "The culprits."
James took in the pair. His old pal laughed at George, not with him. James shifted his gaze to Harry, and Hermione. Furious whispering met mute contrition. James looked at Sirius. A whole conversation occurred in mere seconds. Two hands swished two very real wands.
The charged atmosphere alerted Lily. She leaned into George voicing a soft warning. He ignored her. She poked him. Too late. Lily gasped. Her hand covered her mouth. Hermione raised her head. Her eyes widened in dismay. Harry's, and George's hair swirled into a horrible imitation of a Muggle hairstyle called a beehive. Hermione couldn't fathom how the marauders managed the intricate hairstyle on their short locks. She pushed the wayward thought aside. People were noticing. Their snickers resulted in more attention to the latest hijinks. It wouldn't take long for the whole hall to be focused on the Gryffindor table.
George's scarred ear was on full display. All traces of joviality vanished. Stunned Sirius, and James dropped their wands. The small echoes of wood meeting stone reverberated.
"Stop it!" cried Hermione. She fumbled in her bag. Lily scooted closer to George to obstruct the view.
Harry winced at George's questioning look. Harry's appearance told the story. George's hand shot up to his exposed skin. He covered the disfigurement. He closed his eyes. It was only a matter of time before it was discovered, but a warning would have been nice. He sighed. He opened his eyes. He tried to morph his facial features into a jocularity he didn't feel.
"Growing up with five brothers someone was bound to lose a body part." He desperately strived for flippancy. He failed spectacularly.
Hermione unraveled the spell. His camouflage restored his hand fell. He needed a quick quip to balance the awkwardness. In times like this Fred's absence screamed at him.
"Quidditch," Lily yelled. She looked from friend to friend pleading for someone to help relieve the discomfort. Quidditch usually inspired an animated, if not heated debate.
George appreciated the clumsy effort. He sent a grim smile of thanks. He stood self-consciously. The stares penetrated his thin layer of composure.
"I think that's it for me." Running away was a sure-fire way to encourage prying, but he couldn't stay. No jokes, taunts, or witty comebacks came to him. Disappointment ate at him, his own, and Fred's.
Guilt engulfed James and Sirius as they watched George's exit. As he disappeared from view the marauders and Lily turned to Harry and Hermione, who were staring forlornly at the doors.
Laughter ricocheted around the group. Other students cracked up at Harry's hairdo. He paid no heed. A casual flick of the wrist released the spell. Noiselessly Harry and Hermione rose grabbing their bags. Harry picked up George's forgotten one.
"We didn't…" James started. Two solemn expressions transformed into icy warning. His words froze. The tears glistening in Hermione's eyes amplified the shame. James looked away unable to hold her gaze. Sirius ducked under the table using his dropped wand to escape.
A tainted mood enfolded the remaining seventh years. Lily glanced up and down the table to see if anyone witnessed the debacle of a joke.
"No questions," she admonished. "If he wants to tell us he will. If not, it's none of our business." She measured the boys knowing where their thoughts dwelled. This new development was sure to cause a stir.
"I mean it." She reinforced her statement with a stern look at each of them. Having lost her appetite, she pushed her plate away, and left.
"What is going on?" a confused Remus asked. He'd been sitting on George's other side, and hadn't seen.
"He's missing an ear," James said softly.
"Who?"
"George," Sirius replied. "There's a hole, and a scar, but no ear."
#
George needed to get his roiling emotions in line. He hadn't wrangled them when Harry and Hermione found him outside the potions' classroom.
"Are you okay?"
George studied Hermione. Did she want an honest answer? Did he want to give it to her? No, to both.
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
"It was a gag," he explained. "Payback for the wands. Pretty genius for an impromptu trick."
Hermione frowned. She wasn't talking about his ear. An accidental glimpse into his thoughts revealed Fred.
"Wipe that look off your face," George ordered. That look precipitated the one topic he wasn't prepared to discuss. He took his bag from Harry. He nodded his thanks. "It's fine."
"It's not," Harry said. Both sets of brown eyes impaled him. "Questions," he elaborated, "we can expect lots of questions."
"Childhood accident."
"Why didn't a healer fix it?" Hermione asked granting the reprieve.
George stretched his fingers then curled them into fists. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. "Fine," he said. Exasperated, and exhausted he exploded. "I'll tell them the truth, shall I? How our rescue slash escape plan was botched. How the death eaters were waiting. How our git of a spy got a little wand happy with a spell of his own invention. And how he's got terrible aim from a broomstick. Yes, let's tell them about it," he shouted.
The sarcasm was unappreciated. Hermione clamped her lips on the snarky retort. Boys, and their emotional crises required a delicate touch. She longed for the words to comfort George, but there were no magic words to soothe his pain.
"George, I'm —"
"No," he said. "Just don't."
Harry missed the undercurrent of their tete a tete. Before his lack of tact became evident the rest of the class assembled.
Sirius, and James beelined for George.
"We're sorry," they chorused.
"What for?" George asked through gritted teeth. Their apology was acutely unwanted.
"The um…"
"At lunch…"
"The thing…"
"You know…"
"Prank," suggested George over their spluttering gibberish.
"Yeah," Sirius said. Apologizing was a rare occurrence for them. When they deigned to do it, their efforts were commended. George's animosity confused them.
"Why are you doing this?" George ground out.
Out of their depth James, and Sirius looked to each other. They had conferred, and agreed that an apology was the best way to handle the situation.
"Wow!" exclaimed George. His tumultuous feelings bled into his words. "An apology when correctly given will make someone feel better, not worse." His terse comments stunned not only Sirius and James, but everyone in the vicinity.
"George!"
"Not now, Hermione."
"But —"
"Shut it."
Hermione expelled an indignant huff.
"We were —"
Using considerable restraint George held up his hand instead of cold cocking the pretty boy in front of him. "You wanna make it better?" His attitude would have earned him a slap with a wooden spoon from Mrs. Weasley. "Drop it."
Other students wondered what was happening. The rigid postures, the tension radiating between the new students and the marauders was telling. But as soon as it was noticed it was over. James and Sirius backed off. George slumped then immediately stiffened.
Severus Snape slouched into the corridor. His nose buried in his potions book. Hermione and Harry positioned themselves between their friend, and the Slytherin. Luckily, Slughorn came puffing around the corner.
"Inside, inside. There's work to be done."
The trio allowed their classmates to pass. George pushed himself into the stone wall at his back. It was too much. Hatred and revenge overwhelmed his fragile control.
"No." He turned sharply on his heel. He walked away. Hermione took a tentative step, but Harry grabbed her arm. He shook his head. George battled more than one demon today. They went into potions blatantly disregarding the curiosity caused by George's absence.
#
George strode purposefully down the hallways. His menacing air parted the crowd. He dashed into an abandoned classroom. He hurled his bag at the wall. He clenched his fists, dug his fingernails into his palms. He needed something else to throw. He needed something to feel as bad as he did. He gripped the end of a desk.
"Shouldn't you be in class?"
George spun. Dumbledore assessed.
"You don't want me to be in class."
"Why is that?" Dumbledore ambled into the room. He closed the door and perched on the edge of a desk waiting.
George shook his head. He trembled. Inside he shook and shivered. Writhed.
"I can't."
"Why not, Mr. Walker?" Dumbledore paused for an answer. None was forthcoming. "Is this because of your ear?"
"No." George's fingers traced the injury. "Yes." He propelled his fingers roughly through his hair. "I don't know." He interlocked the fingers of both hands behind his head. His elbows stuck out in triangles.
"I did not believe you to be vain."
"Ha," the harsh sound jabbed. "It has nothing to do with vanity. I'm the guy who makes a joke of everything. Today, when they did that, I should have made a joke. For Merlin's sake, when it first happened and I came to, my first word was saintlike."
"Holey." Dumbledore chuckled.
"Fred said I was pathetic." George gasped and stumbled. He rubbed his chest. "There's a hole now," George said. He paced continuing to rub his chest. "That's what the future is. It's pain and suffering and loss." He faced Dumbledore. "Fred." The name was torn from him. "He's my brother. My twin. He was my twin." George choked. He sank to his knees.
A reflex had Dumbledore stepping forward. George looked up at him. Undisguised anguish. Raging pain. Unbearable loss. It was all there on George's face, in his eyes, and in the curve of his body.
"Sometimes," George croaked, "I can't breathe. There's something heavy in my chest, and I can't breathe. And I'm not the only one. We lost. We won, but we lost. We lost important parts, and pieces. We'll never be put back together. Buy you know all about that, don't you?"
It was true. Dumbledore had experienced loss. He carried guilt, and regret in equal measures.
"It doesn't go away, does it?" George asked.
"No," Dumbledore said. George would know if he lied. Dumbledore sensed this boy knew more than anyone should about his private affairs.
"How do you…" George gestured helplessly.
"One day at a time. If that's too much, then one hour to the next, or minute by minute."
"I wasn't with him," George confessed. "It was a battle." George looked sightlessly at the stone walls. "In this very castle. The Final Battle."
Dumbledore stiffened. A battle at Hogwarts.
George carried on, "I was in the Astronomy Tower with Lee. He was with Percy in the seventh-floor corridor. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were there too. We were fighting old Voldy's army. I didn't know. I didn't know until we met in the Great Hall. I found him there. And I can't… I can't…" He gulped fighting against the sobs. He shook his head. "I don't know how Harry does it. He lost so much. And he still went into that forest. I can't even breathe, and he went into the forest." He bowed his head rubbing his hands on his thighs.
"Harry helped Percy move his body. Did you know that?" A brief pause, then George answered his own question, "No, of course you didn't. Percy wouldn't leave him. He told me. Percy told me. We got drunk one night, and he told me. Told me all of it. And then he kept saying he was sorry, but not to me. He was talking to Fred, cause he was drunk, and we're twins. We were twins. Percy was talking to Fred. I stunned him. Poor sod."
Dumbledore cleared his throat at the prolonged silence.
"Right, back to your question. No, I don't give a fig about my ear. I don't care if they saw. But Fred would have been disappointed. He was disappointed when I said holey too. I had the whole wide world of ear related humor before me, just like today. I let him down."
"Mr. Weasley."
George's head shot up at the use of his real name. He came back to himself. The reality of who he was talking to, and what he was saying hit him.
"Oh shit."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the profanity, but didn't comment.
"I don't suppose you could forget what I said." He had been rambling, spewing the words as they came to him. He wasn't sure of what he'd even said.
"No, Mr. Walker," Dumbledore said. The fake name a reminder.
George stared hard at the head master. "If you ask, I will tell you."
#
Lily helped Madam Pomfrey clear the mess from their last patient. A third year was careless on a changing staircase. The fall sprained her wrist, and left a jagged cut on her leg. Madam Pomfrey was in her element fussing over the student. She fixed the wrist in a trice, and healed the cut in less than that.
Lily chose the career path of a healer in her fifth year. She loved the idea of using her magic to help people. Every week under Madam Pomfrey's tutelage her knowledge of medicinal magic grew. She enjoyed learning, and experiencing the power of healing. But she could not focus today. Her thoughts drifted to George. His ear should have been healed. They were surrounded by magic. George was a wizard. A pureblood. She did not understand why he was disfigured.
Lily peeked at Madam Pomfrey's lesson plans. The topic of regrowing body parts was not listed. She'd forbidden the boys from asking questions, so any discussion they had would not include her. Her thoughts circled to Madam Pomfrey. The healer was the best source of accurate information.
"Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yes, Lily?"
Lily took a deep breath. She committed herself. "I had a question about Skele-Gro. It's used to regrow bones?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded confirmation. Lily rehearsed her questions. She tried to remember the exact phrasing.
"Is there a similar potion for regrowing limbs?"
"Yes, there are medicinal potions for that purpose."
"Is there a reason, or a situation that would prevent someone from regrowing a limb?" Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The nerves clawed their way to her throat.
"There is one factor that would prohibit a magical healing. If the limb was removed by a dark curse."
A dark curse. Thoughts whirled and spun. Harry's nightmares. His trouble coping. Hermione's stuff. She said they'd been through stuff. And George. His sullen moods, his anger. Grief. They were grieving.
"That's it for tonight," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Thank you," Lily murmured distractedly. She required a new source of information. The library was her first choice, but dark curses were probably in the restricted section. Severus would know. She could ask him. No, she could not. He changed, and not for the better. She couldn't, wouldn't go to him.
#
Dumbledore did not speak. He did not move. An incredible opportunity. A dangerous gambit. It was inevitable.
"Here and now," George said. "I can tell you which students," he pointed to the hallway, "become death eaters. I can tell you which ones to trust. I can tell you which ones die. And they do. So many of them." He tempted the headmaster. Reckless and impulsive. He dared Dumbledore to take the bait.
"It's not just the students. Wizards, and witches of all ages die. The fighting spills into the Muggle world too. No one is safe. And I could tell you."
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley."
"No, it isn't." George got to his feet. He snatched his bag. He collected his spilled belongings in jerks, and lurches.
Dumbledore studied George. The shudders. The trembling. The young man was drowning. Dumbledore stayed in the classroom long after George vacated it.
#
George's disappearing acts had to stop. Hermione marked through another misused word. Her parchment resembled something she would have corrected for Ron. His name combined with the large zig zagging line down her text worsened her mood.
"Ugh." She tossed her quill down. The ink splattered. Her assignment was reminiscent of an abstract painting.
"Allow me." Remus didn't wait for her permission. He took the parchment carefully siphoning the ink with his wand.
"Don't bother," she said. "I'll have to rewrite the whole thing anyway."
"True, but you need to be able to read it." He continued his cleaning project. The splatters were gone. He began working on the zig zag.
Harry ignored the exchange for the most part. He counted on Hermione's dedication to her homework to spare him from a haranguing about George. He was glad when Remus, and Lily joined them in the library. Hermione would not air their dirty laundry in public. He grunted a greeting, and promptly buried his nose in a book. The large tome served as an excellent hiding place for the marauders map.
"You should have taken occlumency lessons from George," Hermione said cutting into his thoughts. "He's rather adept at keeping people out of his mind."
"I've noticed."
"There's no need to be short with me." Hermione bristled at his tone.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked bluntly.
"Who said I wanted you to do anything?"
"Spit it out. I'm not in the mood for your mind games."
"Harry James Potter!" Hermione screeched.
Harry winced at the high pitch.
"I do not play mind games."
"Fine," he conceded his brain throbbing. "Call it a delicate case of manipulation." His words lacked the finesse to soothe her ruffled feathers, so he added, "Please tell me what I'm supposed to discover on my own with your gentle prodding."
Hermione scowled at Harry. He felt her stare, but refused to comply. She resorted to stealth mode due to Lily and Remus. They seemed to be the only ones who spent as much time in the library as Hermione.
"Are you not concerned?"
"I am, but there's no point in hunting him down. He'll make an appearance when he's ready."
"What if he's in Hogsmeade again?"
"He's not."
"How do you know that?" A dangerous undertone crept into her voice.
It was futile to resist answering. He would incriminate himself, and hopefully she would give up. An image of the map hidden in the book flowed into Hermione's thoughts.
"You could have said earlier, and I could have focused," she snapped.
"What would you have done if I'd told you?"
"Gone to him."
"Exactly," Harry said. "Give him space. He doesn't need coddling."
"Offering to comfort a friend who is hurting is not coddling," Hermione retorted. "What if he does something to Snape?" she countered. "The Slytherins already dislike the Gryffindors. We can't be the cause of more animosity between them."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Done," Remus remarked handing Hermione her essay.
"Not by a long shot," Hermione said her gaze locked with Harry's.
