Chapter Three
WEASLEY'S WIZARDING WHEEZES
"Is force really necessary?" came a cruel voice from over him. "I suppose finding your sister and forcing it out of her won't be very hard."
Ron struggled to remember what Harry had taught them during their D.A. lessons. He fully expected the Imperius Curse, but didn't know when, or if, it would occur. "Don't touch her," he yelled.
"What was that?" came another voice. He thought he had yelled, but apparently it had come out as a hoarse whisper. It was all he had energy for. He didn't say anything, no longer wanting to give them the pleasure of knowing he was already defeated.
Lucius again. "We have just received word that Albus Dumbledore is dead. The Dark Lord himself has finished him off. The stupid man came to protect the boy. He should know better than to meddle around in business that does not pertain to him."
The lights came on, and Ron saw he was sitting on the floor with about fifty Death Eaters surrounding him.
Lucius continued. "No one really knows where the Mudblood is. But, even without this boy's help, we should be able to find her. And the Potter boy as well. I'm sure that wherever we find one, the other should not be far behind."
In the present, Ginny stretched. "You should tell me about what happened sometime. Now, can I accompany you to Diagon Alley? I need to pick up a few things."
"And have my bratty younger sister follow me around?" Ron smiled affectionately. Since Harry's death they had become much closer, almost confidants.
"Yeah, and I can even Apparate now, so don't try any sudden moves. I can follow you quicker now."
"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" Ron asked. He struggled to pronounce the words while his sister giggled. His damn brothers had, of course, made the name of their joke shop next to impossible to pronounce.
"You're on," said Ginny with a grin.
They Apparated right outside of Fred and George's brand new store. "You know, for such intelligent guys, you'd think they'd be able to come up with an easier name than 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes', don't you think?" Ginny said as they stared up at the big sign.
"I think they did it on purpose, really."
"Good point."
As they entered, George turned around from stocking a box with the name, 'Fred And George's Everlasting Quills'. "Look who's here!" he called.
"Hey!" said Fred energetically as he came out of the back room. "If it isn't my dopey little brother and sister."
"Hey, I'm the only little sister you've got. Be nice," said Ginny with a grin. "How's business?"
"Pretty good," said George. "Too bad neither one of you are in school anymore. We just invented these Jumping Quills-- try throwing them at a professor. It'll write on their forehead."
Ron looked at his other brother, amused. Sure enough, Fred had smudgy black marks on his forehead. He had a sneaking suspicion that his brothers had been testing the contraption up until the last minute. "I'd wish those things had been around when we were in school. I wouldn't have minded throwing one of those things at Umbridge."
"Too bad we didn't come up with this sooner," Fred agreed. "But now we'll leave our legacy for any future Hogwarts students. Lucky kids."
"So what are you two doing in Diagon Alley?" asked George.
"Looking for jobs," Ron said quickly. "You don't know of anyone who's hiring, do you? I wanted a job at the Ministry, but Dad said there are nepotism laws."
"Aww, my wittle brother with the big nose and big feet's looking for a job?" Fred looked absolutely delighted. "Well, tell you what. We don't have any nepotism laws of the sort. Or do we?"
George looked back at Fred, eyes sparkling. "I suppose we could make one up."
"We could, but since you're our little siblings, we'll be generous. We could offer you a job here."
"What would we be doing?" Ginny asked, looking cautious.
"Nothing illegal, Ginny. Relax. Selling things to our customers. Or, if you don't like that, you could create promotions for sales and the like."
"How much would you pay us?" Ron asked.
"Oh, enough. One fourth the receipts. We'd each get that much, that way it's equal and we don't have to listen to you complain," Fred said, his eyes rolling.
"Done deal," Ginny said. "What about you, Ron?"
"All right."
This, he decided, was better than nothing.
"Do you want to go to The Three Broomsticks for some drinks?" Ginny asked, already leading the way.
"Sure. A drink would do me good, especially after talking to them."
Ginny giggled as she found a booth and sat down. Much to Ron's surprise, people's heads kept pointing in their direction. The din was quieter than usual and every so often he heard whispers. They seemed to be talking about him.
"I don't have spinach in my teeth, do I? Or a weird scar on my forehead I'm not aware of?" Ron asked, smiling.
"No spinach." Ginny pretended to be searching hard for a scar. "And it looks as if you're scar free, too."
They were silent as a dark haired wizard came over to their booth. "Are you Ron Weasley? The one everyone's been talking about?"
"I'm Ron Weasley. I don't know if everyone's been talking about--"
"I just wanted to let you know you saved my family that day. Thank you. I mean, Harry Potter saved us all, perhaps, but you saved a lot of people, too. You and your friend, Hermione."
Ron found he couldn't catch his breath. Harry had talked about how weird it had been his first day at Diagon Alley, with everyone coming up to him and thanking him for something he didn't even remember. Ron's problem was that he did remember what he'd done. "You're welcome," he breathed. He didn't really know what to do.
"Where is your friend, by the way?"
"I don't know."
"What a shame. Well, if you see her, let her know she saved many peoples' lives, okay?"
"Yeah."
The wizard went back to his table, and Ginny looked at her brother. "Wow. Are you going to tell me what you did?"
"Ginny, I don't want to talk about it. Not today."
She looked slightly hurt. "Okay."
Just then, a group of people walked by. One of them stopped. "Weasley, what are you doing here?" It was Professor McGonagall, wearing something that could almost pass as a smile. "May I join you?"
Not wanting to argue with a previous professor of his, he nodded as she slid into the booth.
"Good day, Ms. Weasley."
"Good day, Professor."
She nodded and took a sip of her drink. "I trust you are all doing well."
Ron blinked. "We're fine. What are you doing down here in London?"
"Visiting some relatives," she said. She lowered her voice. "So, how are you two doing?"
"All right," Ron said.
"Truthfully?"
"Yes."
"No, he's not," Ginny said, quickly.
Ron kicked her from under the table, and McGonagall raised her eyebrows as Ginny squealed.
"I know. But you will be. That's what Albus and I told Harry." She held her hand up as Ron tried to protest, and Ron was briefly struck by how much she reminded him of Dumbledore. "I know you don't believe me now, but you will. And..."--she leaned over the table and began to whisper-- "I know you want to look for a certain friend of yours. Don't do it, Ron. I'm sorry, but for awhile, it's as if she never existed, okay?"
Ron nodded. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it looked as if McGonagall looked on the verge of tears. Neither he nor Harry had ever been able to tell what she was really thinking. She patted his hand sympathetically, but then looked especially interested in the design of the wood on the table.
"So, how are you, Professor?"
"Busy making arrangements for next year. At the beginning of every year, we always have a discussion as to whether or not we should go back to making Slytherin a house. The Ministry always shoots down that idea. And if it's not the Ministry, it's an angry parent who sends me a Howler, telling me that their son or daughter was killed by someone from Slytherin."
"So there are just three houses now?" Ron asked.
"I told you that, Ron," Ginny said.
Now that they'd mentioned it, it sounded familiar, but he'd been a million miles away mentally during Ginny's last year at Hogwarts.
"Yes, it's a touchy issue right now," said McGonagall with a sigh. "I keep telling them that it's not the house that's evil; it's the choices these students have made. I'm turning the Slytherin common room into a memorial for all of the students who have died on our side. Even that's causing complaints."
Ron nodded and began to blink, very fast. He didn't want to let on that he was about to cry. Three times in one day. That had to be an all time low.
"You may want to, er, visit sometime. You'd be more than welcome and it's surprisingly very freeing. I'm letting every former Hogwarts student come back and visit anytime they'd like."
She stood and rubbed Ron's shoulder. "It does get better, I promise."
And with that, she turned and walked out of the pub.
