A/N: I know, I'm a horrible human. Long time since I upload and the chapter's tiny, but I'm still struggling with the internet on my laptop so I'm really really sorry. I'll try super hard to upload as often as I can, seeing as my chapters are quite short but I don't know when the next one will be. :(

Chapter 26

George awoke to find himself sprawled in a pile of books on his old spare room floor. He groaned and slowly removed his head from the pages it had been resting on. Groggily, he looked around him at the mess that was the flat. There were pieces of parchment littering the floor, notes of possible potions in scribbled handwriting and broken, tattered books strewn everywhere across the room. Once again, he sighed and picked up a handful of the pages. Removing his wand from his back pocket, George quickly waved it and everything began to return to its original shelves. Boxes which had their contents spilling from the tops neatly closed and stacked themselves against the walls.

Meanwhile, George was looking through the sheets in his hands. None of them had anything about a memory reversing or time rewinding effect, but one, ancient, crumpled page caught George's eye. The diagram in the top right-hand corner showed a small phial filled with a purple liquid and spewing from the top was…

Green smoke.

Heart beating quickly against his chest, George threw the other pages to the floor and his eyes darted across the lines. The paper, however, was unbelievably difficult to read. Years and years of aging had caused the words to fade and the ink to smudge. The old calligraphy made the text hard enough to understand so with the added difficulties, George found it next to impossible. He tried and he tried and he tried for nearly ten minutes until his eyes watered slightly and he was beginning to get a headache from such intense squinting. He walked over to the window and held it to the light, he used a charm to enlarge the text, he even tried to think of a spell to remove the smudges, but nothing. Nothing worked.

Folding the paper so as not to rip it, George flicked off the lights and returned to the shop, before walking back over to Knockturn Alley, wand held up in front of him. He spent nearly an hour looking around the shops, carefully trying each door and backing away when he discovered it was locked. Slowly, George was losing hope. Every single store was either, locked or completely deserted when he crept inside.

With his heart sunk to his knees, he trudged back to the joke shop but stopped abruptly when he saw it. There was a sign on the window which he and Fred had put up during the war which read, 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is closed for now! We hope to open again soon, but in the meantime, happy pranking!' That same sign, written in Fred's scrawled handwriting now hung once more on the window. George cringed, partially at the sign but partially because he remembered how painful removing that sign had been. Fred had written it on the day before the war, the day before he died. Tearing down that poster felt like tearing out a piece of George's heart at the time.

George's jaw dropped. Now, clinging to his memories was more important than ever. He strolled through Diagon Alley, gawking at the shops which had shut down or moved location after the war. "Roxanne Weasley, 11 years old, 8th December 2009. Fred Weasley jnr., 11 years old, 14th April 2008. Angelina Johnson, now Weasley, married on 7th October 2004. Roxanne Weasley, 11 years old, 8th December 2009. Fred Weasley jnr.,…" George muttered repeatedly under his breath.

He'd never let those three sentences leave his mind. "Roxanne Weasley, 11 years old, 8th December 2009. Fred Weasley jnr., 11 years old, 14th April 2008. Angelina Johnson, now Weasley, married on 7th October 2004. Roxanne Weasley, 11 years old, 8th December…"

He began to drum his fingers against his thigh as he reached the leaky cauldron. He smiled at Hannah and made his way over to the bar where she stood. Being two years above her, George had never talked to Hannah, but he hoped she knew enough of him do him a small favour.

"Hey," he began awkwardly, taking a seat at the bar, "Hannah, right?" His mind was whirring. The weather outside was miserable so if this failed, he'd have no other way of getting to Hogwarts. George's key to get into the shop hadn't worked and the protection charms had prevented him from getting in at all. He remembered changing the locks after the war left the store in tatters.

"Yeah," she said slowly, "What can I get you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

"Right," she seemed unsure, but George's heart had lifted a bit. Hannah hadn't forgotten, like lots of others had, about the last two decades. Hopefully, she remembered him too.

"I need to borrow your Floo network," he began, "If you wouldn't mind. See, I need to get to Hogwarts and this is the only way without apparating to Hogsmeade and walking in this lovely weather into the castle."

George could see the cogs turning in Hannah's brain as she said, "Hogwarts is in Scotland. It might be lovely weather there."

"But it might be worse. Please, I have to get there quickly."

"Fine," Hannah agreed, "But just this once."

"Of course," George nodded thankfully as he ducked behind the bar and stepped into the fireplace. He thanked the woman again and announced, "Hogwarts Castle," as he dropped the powder down onto the coals.