"Come on, Lily," Daddy said, "Let's go home." I followed Mum and Daddy back to the car parked in the parking lot. It was a muggle minivan – red and big – and Mum and Daddy had had it since I was a baby.

"Daddy," I asked, "Will the next two years be boring?"

"No sweetie, of course not," Mum answered, quickly. I sighed, knowing that it was a lie. Mum began to whisper to Daddy as she did so often. I could barely hear the words, and I didn't understand them at all.

"George is coming," Mum said, "You have to understand, he's different."

"I think I know that, thanks."

"No, Harry, he's really different. He misses Fred." I saw tears in Mum's eyes, and I saw Daddy cringe.

"We all miss Fred, Ginny."

"George, I'll bet, misses him more than we do. He'll tell Lily. She's too young. Not even James knows."

Daddy just shrugged, but I could see the worry in his eyes. I didn't know who Fred was, but I knew that he had to have been a person that Daddy had known.

All during the car ride, I thought about who Fred was.

"Mum," I finally asked, "When's Uncle George coming?"

Mum cringed, obviously annoyed that I'd heard her conversation.

"He's coming tonight, for dinner. He'll be there at five-thirty." I took the definite tone in her voice to mean not to ask any questions. As soon as we got home, I hurried up to my room, and waited for Uncle George to come at five-thirty.

I'd never really met Uncle George. Mum, Daddy, Uncle Ron, Uncle Percy, Uncle Charlie and Uncle Bill always talked about how funny he was. But in recent pictures, he never smiled, and he always seemed sad.

I had heard of a Fred before. He was always talked about quietly, and tears usually filled the eyes of people who were involved in the conversation.

Five-thirty eventually came. I heard a hard, precise knock on the front door, and Mum's hurrying footsteps to answer it.

"George!" she cried, embracing him in a hug.

"Hey, George," Daddy said, "I suppose that you're my brother-in-law, now." George nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor.

I was sitting on the front staircase, trying not to let anyone see me. When the talk died down, I stood up, cleared my throat, and ran down the stairs, in an attempt to look anxious.

"Oh, George," Mum said, as I reached the bottom step, "This is my daughter, Lily and she's nine."

"Hello, Lily," Uncle George said, attempting a fake smile.

"Lily, this is your Uncle George." I nodded, and extended my hand. Uncle George shook it, and went back to staring at the floor.

"Nineteen," he croaked, "I haven't been a twin for nineteen years."

"What?" I asked, looking from Uncle George, to Mum, to Daddy and back again.

Mum sighed, and patted my head. I, however, wasn't willing to give in that easily.

"What are you guys talking about?" I yelled. "How come I've never met my own Uncle until now? Who's Fred? What's Uncle George talking about?"

Mum sighed, and rubbed her forehead.

"Should we go into the dining room, then?" Mum asked, quietly. Once we got there, however, my yelling resumed.

"What secrets are you keeping from us, Daddy? You don't tell us anything! You expect us to sit in the dark, and act as if nothing happened!"

"Lily, be quiet!" Daddy roared, angrily. "Don't talk about things that you don't understand!"

I hated it when Daddy yelled. Tears pouring down my face, and my face contorted with rage, I ran upstairs. I collapsed onto my bed.

I stayed in that position for a long time, not even bothering to get up to get a tissue.

That was when I heard the knock. It was hard and precise. It was George's knock. It was followed by his voice.

"Lily? Can I come in?"

"Yeah," I called back, wiping away my tears with the ends of my sleeves. When I saw Uncle George come in, I saw tears glistening in his eyes as well.

"Look, Lily, your father just wants to protect you," Uncle George said, sitting down next to me.

"I hate being left in the dark," I shouted, "So if you're just coming to tell me that I have no right to be crying, then you can just leave." My eyes filled with fresh tears, and I had to rub them away yet again.

"Lily, I've come to tell you everything."

"Everything?" I was skeptical.

"Well, not everything. I'm just going to answer your questions from downstairs."

"You know who Fred is?" I asked. Uncle George laughed in a hollow sort of way.

"Of course I know. He was my twin. He died, nineteen years ago. We were more than siblings, we were best friends. We did everything together. Nobody referred to me as George. They referred to us together. It was 'Fred and George' or 'Gred and Forge.'

"He was my brother, my friend, my twin, and my fellow prankster. He was the end of all of my sentences, the person I went to when I was upset (not that I ever needed to go anywhere to find him) and the greatest brother ever. I miss him."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, awkwardly. I saw two tears running down opposite cheeks. "I had no idea."

"Well, you wouldn't know," he said, much more briskly, "Your parents haven't told you anything."

"That's the problem," I muttered.

"Yeah, well, everyone keeps telling me to get over it, but I can't. I don't know, I guess that I don't want to."

"My dad said, a long time ago, that we have to think what our loved one wanted us to do. Fred wouldn't have wanted you to not do anything, but sit and mourn. He'd have wanted you to laugh, and to smile. Remember, but keep moving on."

"Wow," Uncle George said, hoarsely, "I've met a lot of nine-year-olds before, but I think that you're the wisest one I've ever met. I suppose you're right."

"I thought that Rose was the smart one," I protested.

"Wisdom is different than book-smarts, Lily. Sometimes, it takes a little voice of truth to make a person happy."

Uncle George patted my head, stood up, and walked out the door. I followed him, and dinner was silent. The food tasted dry, and tasteless. I couldn't help thinking about the uncle who I'd never met.

When Uncle George finally left, he shook Mum and Daddy's hands, and gave me a wink. I doubt that either Daddy or Mum saw it, but I did.

The next morning, I read over Daddy's shoulder at the Daily Prophet. In a section called 'Diagon Alley,' I saw a picture of Uncle George.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Reopened

Nineteen years ago, the joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

closed, on account of the death of one of the two shop-owners.

This morning, to many people's surprise, the popular joke shop

opened once more. "It's a surprise," says an old supporter of the

joke shop, "I've had to go to Zonko's for the past nineteen years.

It's great to be able to go to such a great place again.

When asked why he decided to reopen his shop, George Weasley

simply answered, "I talked to the wisest nine-year-old ever." In just

the first three hours, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has had around a

hundred customers.

"Lily, is there something you'd like to tell us?" Daddy asked my, suspiciously, after I read the article with a smile on my face.

"Yeah," I answered, my grin widening, "Can we go?"