Author's Note: Hi everyone! I know some of you have probably been waiting for me to update Semper Vigilans, but unfortunately, the next chapter is giving me fits. Angst is very hard to write and so I'm only about halfway done with it. I'm sorry for the long wait, but hopefully a new chapter of Mistaken Identity will make up for it. This chapter pretty much wrote itself, I'm so happy with how it came out. Hopefully, you guys will leave me nice comments and let me know whether you like it or not.

I'll do my best to update Semper next, and as soon as possible. Thanks for the support and kind words. And now, on to our next chapter!


Mistaken Identity

- Chapter 6 -


"George?"

Hermione stared in shock at the Weasley twin who was, in turn, staring back at her, an intense look on his face. It was such a change from the devastated expression she remembered seeing grace his handsome face the last time she'd seen him. It was definitely different from the mischievous expression from before the war when he'd had Fred by his side as the duo played pranks on friends and foe alike. It was a serious expression, one Hermione could only ever recall seeing grace a Weasley twins' face but once before.

"Granger." George greeted her, shifting slightly in discomfort now that he was in the presence of the witch he'd come to speak with.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, then blushed as she realized how rude that had sounded. "I'm sorry, that was inhospitable of me. What I meant to say was... It's nice to see you, George."

"You too, Granger, though I'm not here for a social visit," he admitted as he moved to stand in front of her. "The truth is, I need... well, we Weasley's need your help."

"My help with what?" she inquired, a look of confusion replacing the one of shock upon Hermione's features. She was thankful her mother had not followed her into the room, giving her privacy to converse with her magical guest.

George licked his lips, his gaze lowering to where his hand was withdrawing something from the pocket of his trousers. A Pensieve. More specifically, Harry's Pensieve. Hermione's brow creased in confusion, why would he have Harry's Pensieve?

"George..." she started to ask him when he cut her off.

"Harry loaned it to me. I needed to show you this, Hermione. So you would understand why we need your help." he explained, looking back up at her.

Hermione's interest was piqued further and she motioned for him to proceed in setting up the Pensieve. Once he was done, she wasted no time in diving into the floating memory.


Hermione found herself a bit disoriented as she submerged herself in the memory George was insistent that she needed to see. She took a little time to get acclimated before looking around to find herself standing in the middle of what looked to be a hospital room. A bouquet of flowers were in a vase on a nearby table, three foil balloons floating above the colorful arrangement, each shiny blue surface proclaiming 'It's A Boy!'

Not too far away, an occupied hospital bed drew the brown haired witch's attention and Hermione blinked as she recognized Mrs. Weasley, albeit quite a few years younger than the last time she'd seen the Weasley matriarch. The red haired woman was also evidently pregnant, so obviously she was to bear witness to one of the Weasley brood.

'But which one' Hermione wondered to herself.

A younger version of Mr. Weasley approached his bed-ridden wife, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly before bringing it to his chest to cradle against his heart. Hermione sighed at the loving gesture. She recognized the absolute love that radiated from the older couple and it seemed that it hadn't faded throughout their many years and children together.

Hermione watched as the young memory Arthur turned to summon someone to them. "Come see your mother, son," he said gently, and Hermione watched as a small child with the same shock of red hair as his father made his way over. The child climbed onto the bed beside Molly and began to speak softly to his mother's swollen stomach.

"I'm your big brother, Bill. I'm going to look out for you, just like I do with Charlie and Percy. I can't wait to meet you," came the child's awed whisper, but Hermione heard him all the same.

'Bill...' Hermione thought, attempting to gauge the oldest sibling's age to determine which birth she was present for. She was still not sure WHY George felt she needed to see this. She glanced around the room again, to see if she could find any thing to clue her in, and saw two other small forms she'd apparently missed from her earlier perusal of the room.

Based on physical size differences, she assumed the other two boys were Charlie and Percy. So that meant...

'She's pregnant with the twins now.' Hermione turned back to the couple.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet boy, are you excited to meet the new babies?" Molly asked, confirming Hermione's deduction as true. The woman was smiling down at her oldest son who had a wide grin on his own tiny face as he nodded excitedly. Hermione couldn't help but smile at how adorable the unfolding scene was.

It was then that the scene shifted, a sure sign of progression in the memory, and suddenly Molly was sitting in her bed, pregnant no longer as was evident by the two swaddled forms she held in her arms.

"Aren't they perfect, Molls?"

Hermione turned to see Arthur Weasley sitting in a chair. He was smiling happily at his wife as he, too, held a small bundle in his arms. Wait a minute...

Hermione looked back at the bed. Yes, Mrs. Weasley did have both of the twins in her arms, but then... Who was Mr. Weasley holding? Looking back and forth, the brunette witch frowned in confusion. This didn't make any sense!

Once again the memory rippled and Hermione turned to watch as the proud parents were again cuddling the three babies in their arms. Mr. Weasley was beside his wife on the bed, holding his bundle over so that little Bill, who was sitting on the bed beside his mum, could see. From the corner of her eye, Hermione caught sight of little Charlie and Percy napping on a cot in the corner.

"Oh, Arthur, they're just perfect!" the sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice drew Hermione's attention back to the bed. "Our little Fredrick and George." the red headed woman held her two bundles close.

"And our precious Harold," Mr. Weasley added, placing a tender kiss on the forehead of the newborn in his arms. "Can't forget about him, my dear."

"Of course not."

Hermione watched as Mrs. Weasley gave the sleeping baby in her husband's arms a loving glance.

'This is... unreal.' Hermione thought to herself. 'Did this really happen? Were Fred and George actually a part of triplets?' The puzzle was still incomplete in Hermione's mind. There was still a missing piece to explain all of this.

The sound a door opening made Hermione look up in time to see four men dressed in Ministry robes enter the hospital room. Of the four men, one she recognized immediately.

"Crouch, Sr?" she questioned aloud, then realization struck. "That's right. He's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during this time. But what is he doing here?"

She looked at the other three men with Bartemius and found that one of them looked vaguely familiar to her. She studied his face, going through the virtual filing cabinet that was her brain until a name came to her.

'Harold Minchum. The former Minister of Magic?'

She remembered him from an assignment given in her Fourth year at Hogwarts. They had all been made to write a foot of parchment on an assigned Minister of the past. Hers had been Damocles Rowle, but being prone to finishing her homework early, Hermione had wound up doing researching on all of the other Ministers as well. Harold Minchum had held the position of Minister of Magic from 1975 to 1980. He had been known as a hard-liner, placing, even more, Dementors in Azkaban than there ever had been before. Then something else she had learned in her studies hit her.

"Of course!' Hermione thought, 'Minchum had also been known to have a terrible case of Triskaphobia, which is the fear of the number three!' Hermione's eyes widened, wondering what this could mean for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had just had three children at one time.

"Minister Minchum? You honor us with your presence, sir." Arthur Weasley's cheerful greeting drew Hermione's attention from her revelation and back to the Memory playing out before her.

She noticed that the Minister did not return Mr. Weasley's smile, instead, he gestured to Crouch, who was holding a parchment that he immediately began to read.

"Arthur and Molly Weasley, it has been brought to the attention of the Wizengamot that you are in breach of Ministral decree number 343 in which it clearly states that any births resulting in more than two live offspring at once is prohibited. As such, it is demanded that the third child born into the same family on the same day shall be henceforth relinquished into the custody of the Ministry's Child Services where they shall be placed until properly dealt with." he began to roll up the decree as he continued. "Therefore, you are hereby ordered to surrender the last born child immediately."

Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in horror at the proclamation. "No," she whispered even as from the hospital bed Mrs. Weasley cried out in dismay.

Hermione watched helplessly as Mr. Weasley protested. "Whatever for? These are our children and we will do no such thing!" he exclaimed, holding the bundle in his arms tighter.

Bartemius scoffed. "By order of the Ministry of Magic and myself, I order you to hand over that child." he declared.

Feeling helpless, Hermione watched as one of the unknown men stepped forward and reached to take baby Harold from Arthur's arms. Mr. Weasley tried to evade the man's hands but was unable to. Baby Harold was plucked from his father's arms amidst cries from both red headed adults in the room and one brunette witch.

The commotion had awoken the two younger Weasely sons. Little Percy and Charlie sat up on their small cot, watching in confusion. Little Bill was trying to comfort his mother, who was struggling to get up. But with Fred and George in her arms, she was unable to.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley sobbed miserably and Hermione wanted so much to hex the men who dared to do such a horrendous thing to these loving people.

Arthur reached forward to take the baby back but was Stupefied by the other man dressed in Auror robes before he was able to get a hold of his son. Hermione's horror began turning to anger, her hand reaching for her wand, though it was useless in this memory world.

Mrs. Weasley began to plead with the man, her eyes darting back and forth between her husband lying incapacitated on the floor and the Ministry official who had ahold of her infant son.

"My baby! You cannot take my child! This is inhumane!" she sobbed as the twins began to sense their mother's upset and began to squall.

"It's the law," The Minister's voice was cold as he replied to the mother's plea. "I made sure it passed myself. The power of three is too dangerous to be allowed to exist with You Know Who rising in power."

Hermione's heart hurt for this family who had taken her in as one of their own when things had been at their darkest. When she hadn't had her own parents to go to, due to her having sent them away to keep them safe. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but whether they were tears of anger or sorrow, Hermione didn't know. Perhaps they were both.

"How can you expect us to just let you do this?" the desperation in Mrs. Weasley's voice reached Hermione's ears and she watched as a look of disdain crossed the Minister's face.

"I didn't expect you to simply let us do it." the man said coldly. He then turned to the Auror beside him and gave one simple order before stalking out of the room. The official who held baby Harold - who was now crying as loudly as Fred and George - following quickly behind.

"Obliviate the lot of them."

"NO!" Hermione screamed her protest, her hand instinctively going to her wand to perform an Expelliarmus on the Auror, before realizing that it would do no good. That this was a memory and had already happened. She could do nothing but watch with a sinking heart as the cowering family met their fate.

"Obliviate!"


Hermione emerged from the Pensieve sobbing. Her knees trembled as she stepped back, nearly giving out beneath her before the feeling of strong arms encircling her waist prevented her from crumpling to the floor. She was pulled back into a comforting hug as she buried her face in her hands.

"Let it out, love," George whispered into her ear with a softness in his voice she hadn't heard since Bill and Fleur's wedding. "It's alright to cry." he cooed comfortingly.

Hermione drew in a ragged breath. "Oh, that atrocious and merciless man! How could he do such a thing?" she cried out as she turned in George's arms, her arms wrapping around his waist as she buried her face against his chest.

George silently rocked them both back and forth as Hermione's tears continued to flow. He'd had no idea that his little brother's best friend would take this as hard as she had. But then again, Hermione had always been like family, same as Harry. George felt the need to further console her and so he drew back, bringing his hand up to her chin in order to tilt her face up. He looked intently into her shining eyes as he spoke his next words.

"He's alive, Granger. We've been looking for months, but came up with next to nothing. Thought maybe having the brightest witch of our age on the case couldn't hurt." he offered a half-hearted smile at this, before continuing. "Please, Hermione, help me feel whole again."

"Of course, I'll help you, George." Hermione replied instantly. Without thinking, she brought one hand up to cradle the side of George's face.

For a moment, George leaned into her touch, his blue eyes drifting closed. He'd always had a soft spot for the little brunette witch. "Thanks, Hermione." he murmured sincerely. "It means the world to me."


Morris emerged from the bathroom, having just finished taking a bath and changing into some lounge clothes when a knock came at the front door. He glanced at the clock on the wall and knew there were only two people who would show up at his home at such a late hour. He walked over to the door as he finished toweling his hair dry. Taking a quick peek out the peephole, he exhaled a soft laugh, his lips stretching into a welcoming smile as he opened the door.

"Hello, mum." he greeted the short woman who stood in the hallway holding a covered dish.

Ella Talliver shot her son a warm smile in return as she entered the apartment, not bothering to wait for an invite. Morris bent down in order to allow his foster mother to kiss his cheek before she continued on heading towards the kitchen area.

"You know, mum, the club does provide meals for their comics." Morris reminded the woman who had raised him, despite not being his actual birth mother.

"Of course, dear," Ella replied sweetly. Morris had told her this on several occasions, but what kind of mother would she be if she didn't make sure her boy was eating proper? Placing the dish on the counter, she turned to where Morris was leaning against the door frame. "So, how have you been doing, my love? Still taking your college courses right? You're not letting that comedy thing take up all of your time, are you?"

Morris grimaced at the tone she used when speaking of his stand up job. It was his passion, had been since forever. Could he help it if it didn't pay as much as he wished it would?

'One day, though,' he thought idly. 'One day when I get discovered, I'll be touring just like the greats.' Out loud, he replied to his mother's inquiries. "My major should be coming through this semester. As far as my Stand Up goes, I've got a gig four days a week down at the Comedy Club. Been drawing quite the crowd, actually, you should come down and see it." he informed her.

Ella tilted her head in a nod. "Of course, dear, your father and I will come down and see you next week. How's that?"

Morris grinned excitedly "That'd be great, mum. I'll make sure to use my best material!" he assured her as he walked into the kitchen to take a peek at what goodies his mother had brought. She always made the best chocolate chip cookies.

"So..." his mother began, as she watched him lift the lid and withdraw one of the biscuits lying within. "Everything's been good. No more... accidents?"

Morris' hand paused mid-lift, the pastry just inches away from his lips as he shot his mother a look. "Not recently, no," he replied simply after a second and resumed with eating the treat. It was the truth. There hadn't been any unexplainable mishaps in a few months. For as long as he could remember, strange things happened to and around him. Like something he had been thinking about getting suddenly finding its way into his hands, like the remote to the telly last October. There had been other instances all throughout his childhood, but his parents had simply waved them away, giving sometimes oddball explanations that - although highly unlikely - Morris had accepted all the same for fear of his sanity.

"Good, good, you know I just worry about you, Morris. You're my pride and joy.' Ella said affectionately as she reached out and stroked her son's hair fondly. "Honestly, you should really call more often. Or better yet, drop by for a visit. You can't possibly be too busy to visit your own mum."

Morris tilted his head and grinned. "If I drop by any more than, I might as well move back home," he told her with a laugh.

"That is fine by me, your room is right where you left it." his mother joked, and Morris chuckled. If she wasn't his foster mother, then he would think that was where he'd gotten his love for jokes.

Turning around, he opened up the fridge to look for anything to drink as he responded. "As much as I'd love to, mum, I think I'm fine right where I am. Big boy, me." he laughed as he began rummaging through the open appliance. There had to be some milk in there somewhere...

As his back was turned, his mother asked another one of her usual questions. "So, have you met any nice girls lately? Perhaps you've acquired an entourage at your little comedy place."

He shook his head in amusement. Morris thought it must be a typical question for all mums to have one thing on her mind when it came to their adult sons. Them settling down happily, preferably followed by eventual grandchildren.

He didn't know what possessed him to mention her. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd caught his attention so spectacularly, practically fainting at the sight of him. The instant attraction that had followed once she'd come around hadn't hurt either. Whatever the case, Morris felt the sudden urge to tell his mum about Hermione.

"I have met someone, actually, just tonight," he said, still searching inside of the refrigerator. Where was that blasted milk?

"That's wonderful, dear," his mother gushed, "What's her name?"

"It's Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Oh..." Ella's voice faltered a bit as she spoke, "That's wonderful, sweetheart." Morris frowned as he noted a bit of hesitancy in his mother's tone. Finally locating the carton, he withdrew it and turned around just as his mother continued, her voice now returning to its normally cheery disposition. "You'll have to bring her by to meet us, son."

"Mum," Morris rolled his eyes at her prompting. "We haven't even gone on a proper date yet. Aren't you jumping the gun just a little?"

"Hmmm..." Ella made mock thinking gesture and Morris snorted in amusement. She gave him a wink as they both laughed. "Well, you just make sure you don't take too long in bringing her around." she chided, reaching up to hug her son as she prepared to leave. "I'd best be going, your dad should be home from work by now, and I'm sure you need to get to bed. Handsome man like you needs his beauty sleep."

"Sure, mum. Whatever you say." he blushed under his mother's compliments to his looks. He wasn't one to be vain on his image, but his mother took great pride in telling him how well he'd turned out. She liked to take credit for raising him right, as if that had anything to do with his physical appearance and not simply genetics. "Send dad my love."

"Of course, dear," Ella replied as Morris escorted her to the door.

He held it open, allowing her to apply one last kiss to his cheek before the woman who had raised him swept out of his apartment like the petite whirlwind that she was. He couldn't count how many times he'd thanked his lucky stars to have been placed in Walter and Ella Talliver's care all those years ago.


TBC...