Chapter 2

19 Years Later

Ginny huffed, blowing hair out of her eyes as she tucked her broom under her arm and peered up at the trees, counting them as she'd always had to do to remember the directions. Four trees past the large oak, then left, down the embankment, and two more trees after the rock that looked like a hippogriff. It had always looked more like a squatting giraffe to Ginny, but she wasn't going to win any argument with her brothers.

A rustling off to her left startled her and she spun, her wand at the ready. One couldn't be too careful these days, with the war still on and Death Eaters always skirting about.

"Bloody buggering hell!"

She lowered her wand a fraction of an inch as Ron stumbled into view, tugging on his robes as the hem got tangled in some brambles. He looked up, startled at seeing Ginny there, and lifted his own wand.

"Which one of the twins has a mole on his left-"

"Too easy," Ginny snapped. "Everyone's seen that mole thanks to that party in Gryffindor Tower after they won the house cup."

Ron's grin grew and he lowered his wand. "Running late?"

"I just got off," she said, indicating the broom tucked under her arm.

Ron joined her on the worn trail. He looked disheveled more than usual and it amused Ginny. There were singe marks in his robes, and several tears that made Ginny wonder if he'd gotten them from traipsing around the woods behind the Burrow, or if they'd come from someplace else.

"Rough day?"

Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes as they continued to trudge on. The sun was sinking lower and lower, making the shadows stretch long. "You don't want to know."

"Of course I do," she said. "Your days are always more exciting than mine."

"You get to fly for a living," he pointed out. He tugged at the twigs on the end of her broom and she looked dolefully down at it.

"Testing brooms," she scoffed, "is not flying. Not really. It's not the best job out there."

"Can't be picky these days," Ron said, echoing something their parents had always told them.

Ginny nodded and swallowed back the sour taste that always came when she thought about her job. She'd been hopeful to land a coveted spot on any Quidditch team right out of school, but with the war lingering, the leagues were having to cut games out of their play schedule until teams were nothing but bare bones. Sports just weren't a high priority.

"Come on, then," she said, slowing her step. They were almost to the tree where the ladder dangled, and her time was running out. Ron would never admit in front of the twins how much he was struggling with Auror training; they'd never let him alone about it. "How bad was it?"

Ron grimaded and shook his head, but he did stop walking. Ginny was the only one he confided in these days, and even then she knew he edited much, simply out of loyalty to his best friend.

"It's…" He almost said one thing and then shook his head with a huge heave of his shoulders. "It's bullocks. Harry's… Well, he's pants at most of this. I can't…" He stared off into the distance, a pained expression on his face. "I just don't understand it, Gin." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "He's the bloody Boy Who Lived, for Merlin's sake, and he can't even…" His voice trailed off and his jaw clamped.

Ginny fought the urge to laugh, knowing it would not go over well. The friendship between Ron and Harry had been a strange one, and Ginny was never quite sure what held it together, honestly. Ron was fiercely loyal even when Harry had been lukewarm about becoming friends in the first place. But over time, and Ron's persistent efforts, the two friends had cemented some weird bond between them that seemed determined to last.

Harry Potter was strange, even by wizarding standards. He seemed as if he was always half a step out of synch with everything around him. Ginny bit her lip and swallowed back any comment that might sneak out. There was just something about Harry that was...off.

"Well, come on. Best get up there." Ron motioned toward the tree they were headed toward. Ginny let her eyes trace the trunk all the way up to the rickety structure held there by magic. The treehouse had been built by their father, secretly, back when Bill and Charlie were young. Ginny wasn't sure if her mother knew about it and just kept quiet, or if it was a complete secret. Even her father had seemed to forget over the years that it existed.

Through the years it had become the location were all of the serious business of the Weasley siblings had taken place. Nobody outside of the family-not even significant others-knew about the treehouse.

Ron loped ahead and grabbed the lowest rung on the ladder. "Want me to give you a boost?"

But Ginny just shook her head and slid her broom into place, rising slowly and laughing at Ron's perturbed face.

"No need to climb when I can fly," she called out just before ducking into the hole in the floorboards.

Fred and George were inside, waiting, when Ron finally clambered through the hole. Their grinning faces only annoyed him more.

"Multiplying charm on the rungs?" He huffed. "Was that really necessary?" He called them a nasty name that only made his two brothers and sister laugh.

"Been awhile since we messed with your head," Fred said with a shrug. "Wouldn't want to lose our edge."

Ron wanted to snap at them, but he realized it could have been much worse. And, really, climbing a few dozen feet extra had worked off a little of his frustrations from training today, anyway.

"Next time, bring a broom," Ginny said.

"Don't think we won't take care of that option next time," George warned her with waggling eyebrows.

"Let's just get on with this," Ron said. He pulled an old apple crate toward him, eyeing it dubiously, before slowly lowering to sit on it. "I have to go back to the Ministry for awhile tonight." He waited for the twins to say something, to poke fun at him, or make some off-color remark, but they let it slide, thankfully.

Ginny leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm assuming this little meeting is about-"

"Percy."

An awkward silence filled the room. Nobody had heard from their brother in months. He'd been working in the Department of International Cooperation at the Ministry for years. At the beginning of the year there had been an extreme change in his behavior. Ron and Percy were never very close, but even he noticed the change in demeanor; Percy usually talked non-stop about his job, but he became taciturn, secretive, and even surly when anyone questioned him. He'd moved out of the Burrow, leaving vague hints about where he was living. His visits and communication with the entire family grew stunted. And then had stopped completely three months ago. And despite Ron's best efforts, nobody at the Ministry seemed inclined to share any information about him.

"He's a prat," Ginny said. There was enough fondness in her voice, however, that the name calling was more out of habit than malice.

"I can keep trying with the Ministry," said Ron, "but…"

"It'll be a dead end," Ginny warned. "It's the Ministry. We'll be lucky if we ever find out what's going on."

Ron had to concede the point, even though it rankled. "Then why are we even trying? There's nothing we can do. He'll either show up again, or…" His words died away and a sick feeling erupted in his gut. There were so many ways that all of this could go horribly wrong. While there wasn't open fighting, just yet, Ron knew that the Death Eaters were growing in strength every day, and that You-Know-Who was just lurking in the shadows. It was the one reason he'd wanted to join the Aurors, despite his mother's pleading with him to find something-anything-else to do for a living. Ron felt an obligation to protect those he loved. And Harry felt the same way. Well, mostly. Almost. Maybe.

Harry was-

His thought was interrupted by Ginny's loud smack against the side of the treehouse and the twins exchanging one of their "looks".

"There's something we can do," Fred said.

Ron and Ginny peered at him, unsure whether to believe him or not. You never could be sure with the twins.

"Someone we could contact," George said.

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, 'you know a bloke'."

Ron snorted at the familiar phrase. It had become something of a joke with the family that anytime the twins were in a sticky situation they would claim that they 'knew a bloke' who could help out. Ron had come to believe it was just a euphemism for their conniving and mysterious knack for getting themselves out of trouble.

"No," Fred said. "We really do know a bloke."

"Sort of."

"In a way."

George shook his head. "We don't actually know him. Just...know of him."

"And this is someone reputable?" They both stared at Ginny, aghast.

"Of course not!"

"Don't be stupid!"

"Why would we know someone reputable?" Fred said. "Not really an asset in our line of work."

Ron pretended not to hear, even though he was filled with curiosity. If he knew details, he might feel required to turn his brothers in for their shady dealings. The feeling, however, passed. Family loyalty meant more than anything to Ron.

"What could your bloke really do?" he asked. "It's the Ministry, after all."

"You'd be surprised," Fred said.

"He's rather…" George trailed off and a wicked smile blossomed on his face. "Let's just say that he knows people, who know people, and he can take care of issues that the normal witch or wizard wouldn't know how to handle."

Ron and Ginny exchanged a look.

"And is your girlfriend okay with you knowing people like this?" Ginny asked.

Fred had the good grace to look abashed but he shrugged. "What she doesn't know won't hurt me."

"I'm in," Ginny said finally.

Ron gaped at her. "Ginny!"

His sister glared at him and shrugged. "What other option do we have, Ron? It's Percy. He's family. And if their bloke can get the job done…" She turned to look at the twins, who both nodded firmly. "Then I say we give it a try."

Ron's stomach twisted and turned as he weighed the options. He didn't need to get mixed up in anything illegal, or even shady. His position in the Auror department was only tentative, at the moment, due to all the messes he and Harry had been getting into lately. If they found out that his brothers had roped him into something underhanded… Well, it could sever ties that Ron desperately wanted to keep intact. The desire to tell Harry about what was going on niggled at the back of his mind, but Ron pushed it away. Harry might be his best friend, but the bloke had a strange relationship with the rest of the Weasley family. He didn't always understand what family was all about. Not that Ron could blame him…

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. I'm in."

"What do we do?" Ginny seemed much more eager, and Ron decided that he wasn't really surprised. She had always been rather impetuous, even foolhardy at times.

"We write a letter," George said. "Then we summon-"

"Hold on," Ron said. "Summon? Summon! As in, ghosts, or spirits?"

"An owl," George finished, glaring at Ron.

"That's it?"

"Not completely," Fred said. "It's a particular owl, and it takes a while, sometimes. He's a busy bloke. No idea how long it could take before we hear something, but he'll contact us. He always has."

"I'm assuming that this 'service' costs?"

"Oh, loads," Fred said. He rummaged in a bag that sat next to him and pulled out a thin stack of parchment and a quill. "But it's worth it." He began scribbling away while George looked over his shoulder.

"How do you know this person?" Ron asked, unsure if he even wanted the answer.

"He's helped us out a time or two," Fred mumbled cryptically. The tip of his tongue poked out the side of his lips as the quill danced along the parchment.

"He took care of that Ludo Bagman situation for us a few years ago," George explained. "Got old Ludo to pay up when he'd tried to get out of paying what he owed us. That's where we got the money to start the store."

Ron remembered the "Bagman Situation" well. His mother hadn't stopped scowling for four months after discovering that Fred and George had been betting on various sporting events to gather enough money to start their own joke shop. And she'd given them a stern "serves you right" when Bagman had tried to skip town without paying. Ron had never known how the twins had resolved the situation, or hired someone else to do so, it seemed.

"And he's procured some of our more...questionable potions ingredients," George admitted. "Handy bloke to have around at times."

The image they were painting made Ron uncomfortable, but he had to admit that this wizard did seem like a handy person to know.

"And you've met him?" Ginny asked.

George pulled a face. "Not...exactly. Never face to face. He doesn't like to meet. Very particular about that point. After he contacts us, we go by the rules he sets."

"Finished," Fred said. He held up the parchment and Ron couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment.

They were hiring a bloke they'd never met, never even seen before, to do something likely nefarious, to track down their wayward, prattish older brother. What could go wrong?

Fred folded the letter and magically sealed it. He stepped toward the window in the treehouse and held his wand outside, concentrating enough that his eyes narrowed and a wrinkle formed in his brow. "Turba Malum!"

A faint puff of dark purple smoke floated in wisps from the tip of his wand for a moment. They all watched it in awed anticipation.

Fred dropped his arm and gave a little shrug and nervous laugh. "Now we wait."

"Rather anticlimactic," Ginny said.

"You'd expect more, wouldn't you?" George said with a smirk.

Silence settled again as they waited, for what, Ron couldn't say.

"Sunday dinner at the Burrow, yeah?" Fred said. "Mum making chicken again?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

More silence.

"Test any good brooms lately?"

"No."

"Catch any bad guys lately?"

"No."

They all stared at each other, unsure of what to say while they waited for whatever might happen.

"Business good?"

"Not really."

And then suddenly, as if it had apparated there, a small, dark owl, about the size of a quaffle and almost as round, appeared at the window. It gave a low-pitched hoot and held it's leg out toward the room.

"Blimey."

"Sort of spooky, right?"

"Don't get too close."

"And you're sure this bloke isn't some sort of Death Eater?"

"No clue," Fred said as he tied the message to the leg of the owl. "But I can't imagine he'd be helping us out if he was. He seems on the right side."

"You hope."

They all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the owl took flight, message attached, and watched as it wove in and out of the trees, and finally out of sight.

"That's that, then," George said.

"Come on, I'll buy a pint for anyone who wants one," Fred said.

"And you'll let us know when-"

"If-"

"Of course."

Ron rubbed at his chest, uneasy with what they were doing, even though he couldn't think of anything better to do. This was family, and sometimes you had to set aside principles to help family.

Fred disappeared down the hole, followed by Ginny. George lingered back with Ron, watching as their siblings left, talking quietly between them.

"Alright, Ron?"

"Yeah."

"Seeing anyone?"

"Don't have time for dating." Ron tried not to bristle. George meant well in asking. He was the only one who'd discovered Ron's secret and he'd been good enough to keep his mouth shut. They didn't talk about it often, or ever, really, and Ron was grateful.

"Well, maybe you'll meet someone one day."

"Yeah," Ron said, even though he didn't hold out much hope. It wasn't easy when you fancied your brother's girlfriend.