So the three of us set off for Diagon Alley that afternoon. I don't know why, but Daddy always insisted on taking the way to Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron. He said that he didn't trust Floo Powder.

We walked straight through the Leaky Cauldron, without stopping to greet Tom as we usually did. As soon as we were out the back door, Daddy tapped his wand on the bricks, and the wall opened to show a busy street.

"Daddy, why's it so busy, today? Big kids don't have to go school shopping, do they?" I asked.

"Your uncle's shop hasn't been opened in nineteen years. Everyone's afraid that it's going to close any minute now."

"That's stupid," I muttered, but followed Mum and Daddy to a shop that was previously boarded up.

Every other time that I'd been to Diagon Alley, I'd wondered why the shop even still existed. Parents pointed it out to children when they passed, but neither Mum nor Daddy ever pointed it out to me. Still, it had been boarded up, and had been since before I was born.

Now it was filled with dozens of people. Bright lights were flashing from the windows, and colorful posters were hanging on the walls. Uncle George was sitting behind the counter.

"George, you're in the paper!" Daddy called to Uncle George.

"Am I?" Uncle George asked, but it didn't seem like it really mattered to him.

"It's true," I squealed, "You really are."

"I have to thank you, Lily," Uncle George said, "I'd forgotten how great this shop used to be."

"Used to be?" Mum asked, raising her eyebrows, "It still is the greatest wizarding joke shop in the world!"

"Thanks, sis," Uncle George said, turning back to the long line of customers. I looked around the busy shop. There were bottles, and boxes, and potions and pets. It was a wonderful sight to see.

The best part of it was that Uncle George was smiling. Right above his head was a golden plaque. It said:

To the boy who was more than a brother to me,

To the brother who was always there.

This is to you, Fred.

Some may have called you a burden to have in class,

Others knew that you were there when they needed a laugh.

But I'll remember you as my second half.

You were a brother and a friend all in one,

I know that it's because of you we won.

Your friends and family will never forget.

This is to you, Fred, my brother, my twin that I could never regret.

I smiled at Uncle George, who saw me reading the plaque. He winked back at me. Uncle George motioned for me to come back to the counter.

"Here you go," he muttered, handing me a photo. In the photo were nine people. I saw Mum, Uncle Ron, Uncle Bill, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Percy, Grandma Weasley, Grandpa Weasley, Uncle George, and an exact replica of Uncle George. This had to have been Uncle Fred.

"Thanks," I whispered back, and returned to Daddy and Mum, who were thinking about buying a Skiving Snackbox for James for Christmas.

"He'll enjoy it," Daddy was saying.

"We'll never know whether or not he's really sick," Mum told him, "It's a stupid idea."

"Well, it was just an idea," Daddy said, looking slightly put out.

The three of us left Diagon Alley. I still held onto the picture that Uncle George had given me. It was amazing how I'd never known that Uncle George had had a twin. I supposed that it was magic – a prank that Uncle George had pulled – that there were two Uncle George's. I suppose that I was wrong.

"So, that answers a lot of questions," Daddy muttered, under his breath.

"Like what?" I asked, innocently.

"Like what George was talking about in the Daily Prophet."

"It also opens up plenty of questions, too," I retorted.

"Like what?" Daddy asked. I scowled, annoyed that I had to spell it out for him. He could be so thick at times. It amazed me that he'd ever passed his auror tests.

"What did Fred help win? Why haven't you told me about him before? How did he die? Does it have anything to do with Uncle George's missing ear?"

"I told you to be quiet about that last night," Daddy said, through clenched teeth. But, I'd had enough.

"So? I'm sick of people knowing more about my dad than I do. I'm tired of having to guess things, or wait until you tell me one fact every five years, just to get a few answers. Why won't you tell your own children?"

"Lily, you're too young," Mum said simply.

"I am not too young!" I was yelling now. "I'm nine years old. James is tweleve, and you haven't told him anything, either! What are you going to do, wait until I'm seventeen?"

"Lily, I want to protect you," Daddy said.

"Then tell me so that I won't be curious, and hear lies. Tell me so that I don't believe rumors. Tell me why people were staring yesterday at Platform 9 ¾. Uncle Ron can't be famous, it's impossible! Tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." I'd heard that saying from a muggle TV show.

"Fine," Daddy almost roared, "I'll tell you tonight. I promise."

"Thank you," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest. Daddy always said that I got my ability to get information out of people from Mum, and finally, I believed him.

The car wove through country lanes, and through city streets. We passed deserted homes, and busy hotels and restaurants. I saw the houses of muggles, who I knew only by observation. Those observations were nine years long. But, I didn't know any muggles, besides my Great-Aunt Petunia, my Great-Uncle Vernon and my First-Cousin, Once-Removed Dudley.

I didn't feel the need to meet any muggles besides them. If all muggles were like them, I was happy in the wizarding world.

Author's Note: Okay, I cried when I read that Fred had died. I felt like I needed to write that short little poem. Please read and review!!!