Hi guys. Really so very sorry about the wait. I suppose I just wasn't sure how to write this chapter without making it a repeat of chapter five. So it honestly took me this long to figure out what I wanted to do, so I can only hope you like it. Thanks so much for your patience and your continued feedback, and enjoy!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Chapter Eight

It all seemed rather mysterious. George had retreated to the flat above his shop about midweek to find a little blue envelope sitting innocently on his table. He'd supposed it could have been dropped off by an owl—except for the multiple stamps on it. Inside had been a letter from his older brother, Rory, inviting him to his and Amy's home on Saturday.

It was now Saturday, and George was near ready to Apparate to the location—his brother having recommended the back patio. But still, something gave him pause. Perhaps it was that he'd never been to Rory's house before. No one in their family save their father, in the guise of Brian Pond, had ever been there, and it seemed to him that Rory would sooner invite Bill than him. Or maybe it seemed silly that he was coming to visit when he'd be seeing the other man the next day. His brother had said he was coming to Sunday dinner at the Burrow.

Nevertheless, he'd been invited, and it would be a chance to sate some of his exponentially growing curiosity about his brother and his brother's friends—family. He wondered if that crazy Doctor would be hanging around…

So with a twist and a sharp crack! George found himself standing on an average looking patio. A table and chairs were set up in case the house's occupants felt like dining outdoors, he supposed, and Muggle electrical lights were strung up in the trees. And an increasingly familiar blue box sat out on the grass.

Before he could go and really examine the thing, however, the sliding door opened and he turned to see Amy step out toward him. "George! Glad you could make it."

He smiled and returned the woman's hug. "Hello, Amy. Er, sorry if I scared you with the Apparition, by the way."

"No, you're fine," she dismissed, "it's not much louder than—well, anyway, let me show you inside, yeah?"

"Thank you." They walked through the house, presumably to the sitting room, and he was struck by how normal it was, and yet to him so odd. He supposed he'd never truly been in a Muggle house before, and it was so very strange to look at. The Doctor and River Song—his niece—were waiting for them in the sitting room, and he had to ask, "What's this all about, then? Where's Rory?"

"He'll be down in a minute," the Doctor returned. "And hello to you, too."

"Er, well—" he said, but River took his arm and led him to a chair.

"You're going to want to sit down," she recommended.

"Why?"

"Because, George, it's a lot to take in," it was the Doctor who answered him. "Now then, if you recall we left rather in a hurry last Sunday—it was last Sunday for you, wasn't it? I got the right one?"

"You did," Amy confirmed, for George hardly knew how to reply to a question like that.

"Good. Well you see, we'd gone outside after dinner, and Rory took us to see your brother's grave."

"Oh." George felt his shoulders sag at the reminder. It was always there, of course, the ache. But some days he could hide it better than others. River was perched on the arm of his chair and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, which he was surprised to find he was glad for.

"Right, so we were there sort of paying our respects as it were, when I noticed that Fred's grave had been carved with Gallifreyan symbols. Oh, my native language," the odd man added at George's blank look.

"Your native language," he repeated. "Right, cause you're an alien."

"I see you're still finding that hard to believe," the Doctor remarked, his lips twitching either in irritation or amusement.

"Bit hard to believe, on top of the whole space-and-time-travel bit," he pointed out.

"Hm. Well, maybe you'll believe me out of sheer gratitude."

"Oh, yeah? How's that?" He challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"Alright, Rory, we're ready!" The other man called up the stairs.

"Are you sure?" Amy countered as they all heard footsteps on the stairs. But was that just one set or two? "I mean, we haven't even told him half of it."

"Oh, he's got everything he needs."

"I don't feel like I do," he disagreed, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden.

"The carvings listed a specific date, time, and place," River explained, "which we were able to use to travel in the TARDIS—the Doctor's ship, that box outside."

"Ok," he said slowly, "so what does this have to do with me? Or Fred?"

"This."

He must have answered his own question. He must have. Because that voice couldn't be any other than…

George stood and turned to the archway to see Rory and—

"Fred," he breathed, feeling weak in the knees.

His brother grinned and took a sweeping bow. "At your service, Your Holy-ness."

"You- but- Merlin, Fred!" He'd crossed the room faster than a Firebolt, for now he was clutching the man's identical shoulders tightly, checking that they were real, they were solid, and then he was clutching at him, gasping and sobbing for breath. "Fred! Oh Merlin- you're alive! But how?"

"I was running down a corridor when Rory popped up out of nowhere, saying some people were in trouble. I know, right, what was Rory doing at Hogwarts? So I went with him inside some funny blue box—it is whacky in there, George, weirder than anything we could think up—and that nutty bloke over there sent this copy of me—he called it a robot or something—out to get killed cause it was 'fixed time' or some other rubbish, and now I'm here," his twin explained all in a rush, though he didn't know how he had the air, George was squeezing him so tightly.

"The nutty bloke…?" He repeated, and turned his head slightly to see the Doctor. The strange man gave a little wave.

"Hello. It wasn't just me, of course, I mean River piloted the robot rather excellently, and your brother already mentioned Rory—" At his words, George's eyes fell on his elder brother, who had the biggest smile he'd ever seen on his face.

"Rory," he croaked, so overcome that he'd hardly noticed his tears. "C'mere, mate." The other man gladly accepted, and soon the three Weasleys were locked in some sort of bizarre three-way hug, but that was just fine with George. He was so happy he staggered about the room giving everyone hugs and saying, "Thank you, thank you," over and over again. He could barely wrap his head around it; all he knew was that Fred was here and flesh and blood and alive.

George finally managed to calm down after a time, one arm around Fred's shoulders and a grin splitting his face. "So what now? We've got to tell everyone, Fred, we thought you'd died."

"We were going to do that," Rory told him. "We were all set to go to the Burrow and everything, but then Fred realized…he had to tell you first."

"Getting sentimental on me, Gred?" He quipped, seeming to finally recover some of his wit after the biggest, greatest shock of his life.

"Only for you, Forge," his brother returned, a cheeky smile in place. He then looked to the Doctor. "Well, can't we just go to dinner, then? I mean, you jumped us forward two years, so a day can't be that much."

"What do you mean?" He asked, a little bewildered.

"Well, dear brother, while you have been sitting around, I have been travelling through time," his twin informed him with a feigned important air. "So if you don't mind skipping a few hours, I'd like to reveal my not-so-dead existence to the rest of the family."

"I have always said I can never wait for mum's cooking," he consented.

"Excellent!" The Doctor broke in, seeming to have no qualms about inserting himself into their back-and-forth banter, a useful quality for any member of the family to have. "To Sunday at the Burrow it is. Everyone to the TARDIS." He ushered them all out to the back lawn and stood by the blue box, and one by one the group filed into the little thing. George cast a skeptical look the man's way, but the other just grinned as if in anticipation as he stepped through the doors.

"Bloody hell." George looked around at the bigger-than-expected space. Sure, a charm could have easily done it, but what was this place? A strange sort of machine stood in the center, fitted with all types of buttons, levers, and knickknacks more inventive than anything in his store. He thought he could see a swing hanging from a second, lower level, and corridors seemed to branch off from every which way into who knew where.

"I'd say it looks more like 'Home, Sweet Home,' but that's good, too," the Doctor commented, and he turned to see him leaning against the doors, now closed, with a smug grin on his face.

"I think I can believe you're an alien now, mate."

"Thank you, George. Now then," he stepped forward, but River held up a hand near the central machine.

"We're already in flight, Sweetie."

"River!" The alien stomped up the stairs to her. "You're no fun!"

"That's not what you said the other night."

George raised an eyebrow. The other man flushed bright red and went around to fiddle with something or other, muttering, "Well I hardly said it, did I?"

"Ignore them," Amy advised. "It's how we survive, anyway."

"Yeah, isn't she your kid?" He couldn't help asking, and Rory made a face.

"Yeah. We didn't exactly know for a while—it's complicated—and she kind of took advantage of that as far as…flirting goes."

"Do you understand any better than me?" Fred inquired.

"Not a bit. And you know, usually we're the confusing ones."

"Aaand we've landed," the blonde woman announced seeming to take glee in the way her husband scowled at her. The Doctor then raced down to the doors.

"Don't mind her," he instructed as he passed, "She makes it so boring." The doors were then opened up into—the Burrow's front yard! But that was impossible! He glanced at his watch to find it fixing itself, the little planets moving to the correct positions and the hands adjusting to tell him that it was a late afternoon on a Sunday.

"It's hardly boring, mate. It's amazing! Victoire's got a lot of catching up to do—you know, I think you'll easily be my most impressive niece!" He directed this to River, who had joined them by now at the door.

"Thank you, Uncle George," she gave an indulgent smile before stepping out after her still put-out husband.

"Hang on, who's Victoire?" Fred questioned, bemused.

"Brother mine, you've got quite some catching up to do yourself." George shook his head.

"Well it has been two years," his twin huffed, "you can't expect me to pick it up that fast."

Amy looped her arm in his, leading him out to the lawn. "Don't worry, we'll help you."

"Thanks, Amy. Have I mentioned you've got a lovely wife, Rory?" Fred called over his shoulder, and Rory grinned.

"Believe me, I know," his older brother said softly. He then swept his gaze over to him. "You ok, George?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he paused to wipe at his eyes for a moment, as they seemed to keep getting wet. "I'm just—blimey, it's a lot to take in. Really a lot." His brother nodded. "This is what you do? Go around, save people, meet dinosaurs or something? That's wicked, Rory."

"Yeah. I mean, it's not all good, and sometimes really bad things can happen, but it is one of the best things to ever happen to me." Rory's eyes flitted to the open door and then they widened. "Oh no," he almost moaned before rushing out after the group. "Doctor, there's such a thing as 'breaking it gently'! Subtlety!"

George hurried after, as he began to realize what Rory's panic was about; the alien was leading everyone inside—including Fred. By the time he and his older brother had entered the house, however, his twin was nowhere to be seen.

"What can we do, Molly?" Amy was asking his mother, who appeared to be cooking up a feast twice as large, now that she knew they had four additions. Little did she know they actually had five!

"Oh, nothing, dear, I already sent George out with the plates." His mum wasn't even looking the other woman's way, too busy waving her wand this way and that to finish preparations. She cast a cursory glance at the door and flashed a quick smile. "Oh Rory, be a dear and help the Doctor with the glasses."

The odd man seemed to be struggling to balance fifteen cups, and his older brother obviously foresaw a catastrophe as he practically ran to the alien's aid.

"No need for worry, Rory, I've been taught by history's best jugglers, you know."

"Right, well we just need you to carry them, Doctor."

George, however, was quickly becoming aware of the potential for the greatest joke he and his twin would ever pull. His mother had said she'd sent George out with the plates. So, with his best innocent expression, he sidled up to the older woman. "What can I do, mum?"

"Oh, George, could you grab the—" His mum began distractedly, before stopping and turning fully to face him. "I thought you'd already gone out to the dining room."

"What do you mean, mum? I just got hear with Rory's crew," he informed her honestly, and doing his best to keep from smiling.

His poor mum looked baffled. "No, but I just gave you the plates only a minute ago! You—"

A female shriek sounded from the dining room, and the whole group hurried in to see Hermione pointing in alarm at Fred, who appeared to be in the middle of laying the plates down. "George! Your ear—it's back!"

"It is?" He exclaimed with mock shock, and everyone's heads whipped about to stare at him in the doorway instead. George made a show of feeling the side of his head and then frowning. "No it isn't. Thanks for getting my hopes up, Hermione!"

Now everyone was looking back and forth between him and Fred, mouths agape. Hermione was trying to stutter back some sort of response, but it seemed the poor girl had gone catatonic. Fred stepped forward and took up her hands.

"Don't be frightened, dear sister-in-law, it's only me."

"I- I- I'm not your sister-in-law," she finally managed, and Fred pouted in feigned confusion.

"You're not? Bloody hell, Ron, two years and you haven't made the move?" His twin tsked at their younger brother who had been deathly pale, but was now a bright red. "I guess nothing's really changed at all."

At this point, George was trying his best not to just burst out laughing, but a quiet, shaking voice sobered him up instantly. "What's going on?" His father was standing at the head of the table, wand out, and looking very solemn.

Harry was mirroring his actions, tensed as if ready for an attack, and muttered, "Get back, everybody."

Beside him, his mum was physically shaking, her eyes wide. "Who are you?" She whispered.

Fred's amused smirk had faded to a softer smile now, and he slowly approached their mother. "It's me, mum," he said, opening his arms. "It's Fred. I'm home."

The red-haired turned those astounded eyes on him, and he nodded. "Fred?" She looked back at his twin, who nodded as well. "Fred. Oh, oh my baby!" Their mother practically launched herself into Fred's arms, and crushed him in one of her hugs, sobbing her eyes out. But tears were streaming down Fred's face, too. A lot of people seemed to be crying, though maybe that was because his own vision was watery. Everyone was giving their own exclamations of shock, crowding around to get a good look at his twin.

Their father, though, was the first to join the hug. "Dad," Fred choked out around a lump in his throat. "Mum." The two parents pulled back, yet stayed practically plastered to their son's sides, but everyone else did their best to get in close as well. "Hey, Bill—and Fleur! Oh, see who you meant by Victoire, George. Ron—come here, you prick, I see you crying! Ginny…there's my baby sister. Ow! Alright, not a baby. Harry, mate, good to see you! And sorry about the joke, Mione, always a good sport, you are—"

"But- but—" Percy had not moved from where he'd frozen in disbelief. "But you- you said—and I saw—"

The whole crowd parted as Fred walked to their brother. "I know, Perce. But I swear, it's really me." Abruptly, their stiff, proper, no-nonsense brother threw his arms around the other, clearly crying into the shorter man's shoulder. "Aw, Perce, I never knew you cared," his twin remarked, but was clutching back just as tightly. "I hope you haven't stopped telling jokes cause of me, Perce, Merlin knows this family needs them."

"Oh my- oh my word, I don't know what to say," his mother was repeating over and over.

"I think I have to ask—how?" His father's eyes fell on him, and George shrugged.

"Try asking the brilliant time-travelers over here," he jerked his thumb at Rory, who had his arms around Amy just as she did around him. They both also had been crying, but the tears had stopped.

"Oh, well, we sort of found a message telling us to go back," Rory began, "and we managed to get Fred away from the battle and replace him with a sort of mechanical copy that River controlled." George shot another grateful smile the blonde's way, and she returned it with her own warm smile. Rory turned to address Ron and his two friends, and Percy. "That's what you all saw, that's what's- er, out there by the tree. We couldn't bring him back any earlier than now, though, because otherwise you'd remember it and—oh," he broke off, for their mum had strode forward and embraced him. She did so to Amy and River, as well, and soon most of them were approaching the group.

"I think you might be our heroes, Rory," Bill commented with a grin as he clapped the younger on the shoulder. He took the baby from his wife so that she could also embrace the three.

"I don't think we can compete, actually," Rory disagreed, gesturing to the famed Golden Trio.

Ron snorted. "You kidding? This is bloody brilliant, mate! How'd you even pull it off?"

"Oh, well," his brother stammered in reply, as awkward as ever under all the attention and praise. "We didn't really—I mean, the Doctor found the message. And it's his time machine. Not to mention the copy he rigged of Fred—whole thing was his idea, really."

The Doctor! Somewhere in all the joy and confusion George had completely lost track of the alien—and for good reason. The enigmatic man had hung back near the archway to the kitchen, leaning against it with his arms crossed in a satisfied sort of way. A gentle smile was on his face and if he had been crying, he'd hidden the evidence well, though his eyes seemed both happy and yet tired.

"One of the greatest things I've ever done, I'd say," he observed softly, seeming to drink in the scene. In fact, George suspected he was doing just that, like they were an image he was capturing in his mind, and that he noticed everything.

Except, perhaps, an incoming Molly Weasley.

"Oh—can't ever thank you enough—you wonderful man!"

"Ah, no need for thanks, Mrs. Weasley," the alien hastened to say, but she had him in her arms now, and it didn't seem like he'd be getting away anytime soon. George watched in amusement and heard River laughing as his mum likely snapped a few of the Doctor's bones.

"It's Molly or mum, dear, I won't hear anything else," she warned sternly before her smile returned. "But so polite—bashful, even! Isn't he just a sweetie!"

"I quite agree," his eldest niece concurred, but his mother was hardly paying attention as she'd now moved to planting kisses all over the Doctor's bright red face face.

"Think she's found a new favorite son?" Ginny remarked with a smirk.

"That's hardly fair, Gin, you had sixteen years to solidify your position," Fred shot back, and she grinned and hugged him again.

"Might I suggest we all sit down to eat before it gets cold?" His father said at last, seeming just as entertained as everyone, but taking pity on the Doctor. "Molly, dear, he must be hungry."

That of course did the trick as his mum at last released the flailing, spluttering man and patted him on the cheek a final time. "Of course, sit down, sit down everyone! I do hope you've been eating, dear, you're just a bit too thin."

"Thank you, madam," the Doctor at last managed, fixing his bowtie and then clutching at his lapels in an attempt to regain some semblance of dignity. River snuck around to his side and tugged him over to the table, and George snickered as she placed her own kiss on the alien's cheek, which blushed a rosy pink again.

Bill dutifully conjured up an extra chair, and George found himself, as he had so many times before, seated at his brother's side. "Am I looking forward to this," his twin muttered as the food began to serve itself onto their plates, and George tried to think of when Fred's last home-cooked meal must have been. All those months on the run…but that was behind all of them, now.

"Here we all are," his father said with a warm smile, eyes passing over everyone's faces. "The luckiest family in the world."

He couldn't agree more.

Oookay, so that's kind of it as far as a continuous story goes! I want to post some little vignettes about Weasley-Pond life after this, but I'll get to that later. Thanks so much for all your feedback and support for this zany little idea of mine. Thanks again for reading, and please review!