Alright, so here's the plan. This story will be fully up and finished by the end of September if not sooner :) .
Calling all artists! I'm looking for anyone with any type of talent to draw scenes or characters from this story. How you interpret it, anything! I've seen this done to seven or eight stories, and it's sooo cool! However, I have not ability whatsoever with a drawing pencil-- so if anyone is interested, please send me pictures through email (on my profile) or let me know through a review! I'll be posting them for all to see, so make sure to sign your name and date.
Chapter 20
Fred and George dragged the whole household to the fireplace after a rather large birthday breakfast. The only person of close relation missing was Remus. That night before had been a full moon, and although he left a card for a Harry on the front counter, I knew it would be a sour disappointment not having him to join the festivities. He would join us again around midnight that night however.
In the spectacular attire they wore almost always, the twins allowed themselves to laugh at our misunderstanding when they told us to say "The Burrow" when hopping into the fireplace.
"We can't tell you any more than this," said Fred.
"Nothing," said George simply. They laughed at us through their eyes—actually, it was more like their eyes were roaring at us, and the glint and sparkle had a flame.
"The Burrow!" I yelled, stepping lightly into the flames. I saw Ginny last, laughing along with George, and giving him a punch in the elbow. I ended up in a dark room, presumably lightless, or given the appearance of a bland black walled enclosure. Only when I went to lean on one of the walls, I realized they were only curtains, and managed to regain my composure before Mrs. Weasley stepped through the fireplace. She was quickly followed by one of the twins, and the rest including Charlie and Bill.
I stood oddly among them, the farthest from family in the room. When the last person (Ginny) entered the room, George cleared his throat for a silence.
I looked around, and hoped this wasn't how the rest of the house wasn't decorated.
"Welcome to the Weasley's new home, completely renovated… actually, Mum, Dad," George looked to his brother.
"The house was so badly destroyed, we had to start from scratch," finished Fred. "We salvaged what we could, but it would've cost more to remodel it type thing." Mrs. Weasley stood in shock for a moment, before an angry glint started up in her face.
"What do you mean? Start from scratch!" She huffed. "So this is all you could build is it!" It was more of a statement than a question, and she stomped her foot.
"Well… no," said George. "You see, since we started from scratch we needed blue prints and the like…"
"So we designed it ourselves." Fred procured his wand from his back pocket, and gave the room a quick wave. Instantly it was even blacker than before, and I couldn't see a thing. I groped for a moment in panic before Georges voice echoed.
"The blindfolds are temporary," he said. "Just one moment while we set up…" With a few sounds I struggled to make out, I felt myself being turned by two large hands to face the other way. I rigidly swiveled, uncomfortable with not being able to see the person who the hands belong to, although common sense told me that it was either Fred or George.
There was some shuffling and squeaking of shoes on what appeared to be a hard floor, which I hadn't noticed at the beginning. It was funny how when one sense was taken away, all your other heightened. My sight was gone, and I felt lost, but my hearing was better than anything else.
And as fast as my sight was gone, it was back, and staring into a living room, which openly moved into a kitchen. I looked around in awe. The organic atmosphere and walls were increasingly impressive as I turned three hundred and sixty degrees. The fireplace we had come out of was plated with what appeared to be rather old and shabby looking bricks in comparison to the rest of the room.
The kitchen was a blend of granite countertops, and earth tones. A rather large hutch held an assortment of knick-knacks, pictures and mementos. A framed picture sat on the wall across from me of the Weasley family, standing in front of what appeared to be a pyramid. The floor was a solid dark hard wood, and the walls had the lightest shade of toupe. Although I'm sure this was only the start, I was amazed at the familiarity of the home, and how comfortable I was in it. Should it not be rude, I probably would've drunk from the milk carton.
The surprise was the unpredictable and out of character show of emotion from Mrs. Weasley. Her face went completely blank and we all turned to look at her. Her cheeks turned white, and she was leaning far too much to the right. Her eyes bugged out a little, and her little knit cap had fallen out of place. Her fingers sat stiffly by her sides, and knees were locked absolutely straight. She looked around her slowly, examining the room. She walked towards one of the walls and traced a framed picture with her fingers. She turned the fireplace.
"Oh," she exclaimed softly. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Oh," she repeated.
She continued to walk around, and touched the countertops, as if feeling them would make them more real. I took a quick peek at her family's faces, which seemed to be in a temporary state of shock—however I couldn't be sure if it was because of the house, or the fact that Mrs. Weasley was finally rendered speechless.
I made the first move and followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen, which I discovered was much longer than it appeared, and there was actually a rather long dining table in front of a set of double glass doors, leading presumably into the backyard. Once again, it was so silent one could hear a pin drop. Mrs. Weasley wandered, feeling and touching things, her eyes still bugged out.
Fred and George followed her rather closely, and finally one of them spoke.
"Mum?"
She turned far too quickly, as if she forgot they were there.
"You do… you do like it don't you?"
Mrs. Weasley looked around, in a mere moment of hesitation, before bursting into tears.
"You kept my fireplace… and this, this is our table, but the chairs—they're new! And—" she let out a rather large gasp: "And I can't imagine, how! And the picture!" She cut off in mid sentence and rushed over to the framed picture of her family in front of a pyramid. She brushed it delicately with her fingers. "I wish Percy was here."
The dazed silence met the room. Bill looked to Charlie, who looked to Mr. Weasley, who looked to Ginny, who looked to Fred, who was already staring at his twin, grinning broadly.
"Well, Mum, we haven't shown you the rest of the house, and we are expecting a special git to come and visit in roughly—" a doorbell that sounded slightly like a chirping bird echoed through the house. "Well, we've never known him to be late have we?" he asked.
Fred rushed past the kitchen and into the front, past what appeared to be a den in the front room, and opened a rather large pine door.
A spindly looking man was standing there and I estimated him to be in his late twenties. He wore a set of rather broad spectacles, which covered a good portion of his face. His arms hung limply by his sides, and the pair of trousers he wore were much too warm to be wearing in mid-summer. His nose pointed upward a little bit like an elf, and the freckles that were scattered across his face made him appear slightly less mature than I imagined him to be. He smiled awkwardly.
"Hello," he said. His voice was brisk and deep, and did not seem to match his rather lean body.
"Percy!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. She rushed forwards from where she had reached in the front hallway, and held her son in one of the tightest embraces I have ever seen. The man seemed rather flustered, but accepted that he could not push her away even with the limp complaint: "Mother, please…"
She turned to Fred and George, "Thank you," she mumbled in a small voice that seemed very much more elegant and petite compared to her bellow. "You kept my fireplace," she said rather blandly, "And some of the things on the shelves, and you brought my family back together."
"Well," said Fred, "We really can't take all the credit."
"Bill and Charlie convinced Percy you see," George looked directly at his brother in the doorway. "Fred and I felt that we may come across as a bit harsh with you—you git. And you are, so don't object. But we've agreed, haven't we George?"
"All too right Fred," said George, also eyeing up his newly commemorated family member. "We will not hurt or punch or laugh, and will come to forgive you in time. However, name calling is still a go." He gave Percy a salute.
Percy cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt collar. He mumbled something very quietly under his breath. Ginny looked up at him, her face flushing angrily, and I was reminded of her short temper. "I'm sorry Perce, did you say something?"
"I said," Percy cleared his throat again, "I'm sorry."
"Well now that that is settled," said Bill, "Why don't you two take us on a tour of the rest of the house?"
We did just that. The twins showed us to the basement where they had created a suite for their parents—the top floor, which had originally been designated for them, had been taken over by a ghoul it seemed, who had enjoyed banging pipes and what not. Even though it was in the cellar, the twins had done a beautiful job in making it seem less so. It was a lovely shade of lavender, and the king sized four poster bed was rather wispy looking, as if made for royalty with the white hangings, and step up onto it. Windows had been made to look like they were on the first floor, so all that appeared was sky, even though the window wells still existed. There was also a small entertaining room into the bedroom, as well as a bath that resembled the one at Grimmauld Place, although I'm sure there weren't any tainted house elves.
The twins showed us through the rest of the house, each room much different than the next, and every room individual for the person it was designed. Ginny's was a shade of cherry red, while Ron's was white except for the far fireplace wall, which was one of the ugliest shades of orange I had ever seen in my life. This seemed to mean a lot to Ron however, because he shouted ecstatically when walking in.
Finally, we reached the end of third floor (where Ron, and the twins rooms existed) and found a large black curtain.
"This," said Fred, sweeping his arm majestically at the curtain behind him, "Is Harry's gift."
We looked around. "You could've at least made it a festive drape you guys," said Ginny jokingly.
"Oh shut up," said George. "Harry welcome to your new home," the curtain disappeared, and a large burgundy door revealed itself, Harry's initials engraved into it in sparkling gold letters.