Even if George had isolated himself for the last five hours, and didn't want a change in those arrangements, he found it a welcoming sight when Fred entered through the door, swept an icy hand over his twin's hair, and soundlessly laid down on the other bed. His presence was more than enough, not a word needed be spoken.
They had come to the agreement of being at The Burrow for his first transformation due to its location in the country-side and the possibility of a werewolf on the run in London was much worse. Shell Cottage had been turned down because it didn't have a safe room for George to transform in, but he suspected it was simply because Bill didn't want a werewolf within a mile from his wife and daughter.
She slept deeply and dreamless the following night, but was hauled towards consciousness of an eerie, dragging calling of her name.
"Nox... No-ox... Noxy!"
"Yeah," she muttered as she opened her eyes to meet Fred's, his cheeks sucked in to make him look like a fish out of water.
"Just thought it might interest you that George is down in the kitchen," he told her calmly.
"Uh-hum," she grunted back before she got the real meaning of the words. Then she threw back the covers at once, sprinted down the hall and stairs, tripped on her own bare feet on the last step and fell backwards into Charlie's arms, hauled herself up without hearing his humoured mutterings before she stood in the kitchen, George grinning back at her by the table.
"Wow, if I knew I meant that much for you I'd come sooner," he greeted her with, Fred already having taken the place at his side.
"You're – you're not ill any more?" she said lamely and sunk down on the chair opposite him. At least he looked better, his colour was back and that half-annoying cocky smile.
"Define 'ill'," he retorted, lifting his hand up from his lap. Nox couldn't keep herself from gasping slightly, his hand was still nearly twice its normal size and heavily coloured, now in purple and pink, but he had regained some use of his fingers. The bandaged was also free of any blood-stains, which she took as a good sign.
"Here, dear." Molly placed a plate in front of George, and he grabbed his fork at once, eager to eat some proper food and not just the slops at St. Mungo's. Looking down at the plate, his expression turned to puzzled, the sausages, and even the eggs were cut into bite-sized chunks. Bite-size for a small child. With a shrug he nonetheless began digging in, humoured by his mother's attempt at babying him at the same time as he appreciated not having to deal with a knife.
"So," Fred said, sitting down on the table to be more or less face-to-face with his twin and stretched his legs, "what took you so long? We've lost days of important work."
"I figured I should be able to keep on my feet for more than ten seconds without fainting," George replied. "Would make actually working a bit easier." Truth to be told, the Healers had wanted to keep him longer, but he had talked his way out of the hospital to be able to finish the case and not just get frustrated with laying in the bed and thinking about it.
"If you're interested, I could get you a reasonable price on dragon liver," Charlie put in, assuming it was work in the shop there was talk about, and possibly the invention of some new product.
"Thanks, but not just now," George answered, finishing his breakfast and stood up, supporting himself on the table. "Now it's time to make up for the lost time." With a swift smile he headed for the stairs, Fred following him without questions. Nox sat still for a moment, then got up too, and followed their voices into their old bedroom.
"Your family have no idea what you're doing, have they?" she asked as she sat down on the bed beside Fred, facing George on the other.
"Nope," George answered and leaned back against the wall. "What progress have we made?"
"Not much," Nox muttered at the same time as Fred answered, "Some."
"Well, I went on a bit of a night-time expedition to Rosewood Estate," he elaborated as the two others fixed their eyes on him. "And that bloody giant tree tried murdering me! With gardening shears!" Nox and George stared at him, before the latter broke out in merciless laughter.
"Shears!" George howled, clutching his arms over his stomach and snorting with laughter. "Tree tried to murder you!" Nox watched, slightly concerned, as he fell to the side, curling up on the bed as he kept laughing. "Merlin's pants, Fred!"
"Well, it did!" Fred retorted annoyed, getting up to pace the small room, his eyes on the floor as he stepped on several scorched patches in the wood left by fire-crackers years ago. "I came there, looked around, and before I knew it, shakim! Almost took my head off. Then there was this screaming and a ladder fell down, blood-stained and... Would you stop that?" Fred launched at his twin, grabbing him by the waist to make him pull himself together, but George just yelped as Fred's icy fingers poked him in the ribs.
"You stop it, before I piss myself," George gasped, writhing in mirth as he tried taking a proper breath. Fred got off and squatted down beside the bed, glaring slightly as George drew himself up to a sitting position again, leaning his elbows on his knees as he calmed down, snorting every now and then. "Sorry," he said at last, "think I'm a tad high on pain-killers."
"A tad?" Fred replied, his usual grin in place again. "Anyhow, I got away as fast as I could, having a feeling the fact that I'm no longer alive wouldn't keep the thing from doing me in... Ended up nipping in on Miss Audra, a real vision all curled up around her pillow and a monogram on her thin night dress. Straight out cute in her sleep, as opposite to others I know." His eyes swirled around the room, ending on Nox.
"Hey, you are not allowed to watch me what-so-ever –" she began, jumping to her feet and pointing a finger in his face.
"George snores," he filled in, leaning back on the writing desk and crossing his legs. "Not everything is about you, Noxy."
She huffed, sat down again and knotted her arms over her chest before saying,"So, back to those shears; they just came at you out of nowhere?"
"Out of the tree trunk," Fred said, using the same grave tone as he had once used to try convince his mother it was pixies who had made a mess of the room they were now present in. Only two major things differed; he wasn't five years old and he was serious.
"So we have a shear-slinging, ladder-dropping, bleeding apple tree," George summoned up. "Maybe it's having its period," he added with a shudder.
"Doubt it," Nox said, jumping up and running out of the room. George massaged his right wrist absently while sharing a slightly confused look with his twin, who shrugged. Nox entered again a second later, flipping pages in her notebook while muttering softly to herself. "Let's see... Spirits can possess inanimate objects, right?"
"Yeah," Fred answered dubiously.
"Then I declare the case solved!" she said triumphantly. "The werewolf kills Catherine, her soul, or spirit, takes up residence in the tree and terrorise her sister Audra until she comes to us!"
"That theory got about as many holes as a Swiss cheese," George answered and laid down on his back. "For once, it lacks a reason. Why would she haunt her sister? Why that tree? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I never saw Audra near it."
"Of course she wouldn't go near it!" Nox exclaimed. "It's frickin' haunted!"
"Finally some reason from you," Fred put in. "It is haunted, but the questions reminds by what and why. It's not everyone who comes back, even less as just spirits, you know. What happened to Catherine to make it happen to her?"
"Werewolf!" Nox cried, grabbing hold of George's injured hand and waving it towards the ghost.
"No," George said, shaking his head as he sat up and yanked his hand out of Nox's grip. "Not enough. And as for the werewolf itself, I think he deserves a little post-mortem visit."
"Already done," Fred informed him. "I stopped by when I was in the area, he was actually back in his human skin, more or less, the canines still seemed a bit sharp. Couldn't say I recognised the bloke."
"Okay, plan complete," George announced after a moment. "First, say nothing to Charlie, he's mad about any kind of magical creature and to find out a werewolf can turn back to a human after death – well, I'm dreading the mere thought. Second, get Nox out of her pyjamas. Third, take a trip to Dartwood Moor."
And so they had, solving the case with no more bumps in the road. Nox had been persuaded into moving into Weasley Manor, giving Fred the time of his life (or rather, death) with teasing her, and having the added bonus of each time he sat up for a high-five with George, the latter would forget both his injured hand and his twin's ghostly state, repeatedly slamming his hand in the wall, cupboard, or whatever else fitted, until he learned after the dozenth time it would just led to him howling in pain while holding his hand between his thighs, and Fred and Nox laughing their heads off.
AN: I told you I was lazy about the ending of the case, but I did try at first!