Disclaimer: Does anyone actually read these? As usual, JKR owns it all and I am but a humble servant.

Notes: Thanks so much for all your reviews, follows and favourites! You have all genuinely made my day :3


A retentive memory may be a good thing, but the ability to forget is the true token of greatness.
Elbert Hubbard


Hermione shrugged off her lime green robes and shoved them in her locker after casting a quick cleansing charm. Throwing on a plain shirt and her worn red coat, she adjusted her scarf and braced herself for the cold London air. While she could Floo directly from the waiting room to the leaky cauldron, she always enjoyed the walk through Muggle London. Ron teased her mercilessly of course. Particularly the day she walked into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes with her head stuck in a Muggle newspaper. Even after all this time, Hermione still felt stuck between both worlds, a Muggle born in the world of magic and a witch in the world of normalcy.

Stepping out through the glass of the seemingly abandoned building, Hermione weaved her way through the oblivious crowd. It was astounding what Muggles could miss. It was a dark, overcast afternoon, with heavy grey clouds pressing down upon the unmoving traffic and threatening rain. Hermione pulled her scarf closer around her and set off at a brisk pace.

Her parents had always warned her about walking through London alone. To be fair, that was before they knew Hermione was a witch and more than capable of looking out for herself. Hermione gulped and shook her head. It didn't do any good to dwell on her parents. She wouldn't start that again.

They're safe, Hermione.

Safe, and better off without you.

Reaching the drab exterior of the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione pushed through the unobtrusive door and attempted slip through the pub unnoticed. Not quite successfully though. The patrons of the dingy pub all attempted to make eye contact, raising their glasses and half saluting the member of the golden trio. Hermione had a new found sympathy for everything Harry had ever dealt with. Waving half-heartedly to the crowd, she ducked quickly to the back courtyard and tapped the bricks to pass through to Diagon Alley.

The cobbled street had blossomed in the last year of peace. More shops than ever before lined the crooked alley, and none more resplendent than the towering purple figure of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. All manner of sparkling, fizzing contraptions shone from the windows of the grand building, with the exception of one window in the left corner. Draped in black, the display held pictures of all those deceased in the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred's picture stood solitary at the front, gazing peacefully at those leaving the shop, bags of magic tricks piled high. As always, Hermione's heart fell at the sight of it.

Poor Fred.

Pushing her way through the crowd surrounding the entrance, Hermione scanned the busy store for any sign of Ron. Spotting a head of red hair slip out into the back room, Hermione followed only to run into George, knocking a pile of boxes from his hands.

"George! I'm sorry! I thought you were Ron!"

George scrambled to pick up the small orange boxes, before throwing her a somewhat empty smile.

"I don't think I've ever been so insulted," he quipped, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. George had never been the same since losing Fred, and even on his best days he seemed a shadow of his former self.

"What's in the boxes?" Hermione asked, once again intrigued. George rarely came into the store, finding it too painful, and he hadn't produced any new stock since, well… Since.

"Put the kettle on, and I'll give you a look." He shot over his shoulder, moving to stack the boxes on a low table to the side. The backroom had been cleared out of all the ministries protective ensembles, and it was little more than a private sitting room now. She suspected this change had more to do with Ron's not so stringent work ethic than any managerial decision. Moving to the small sink, she filled the kettle and charmed the small tea service to prepare itself before sinking into a pouf near the bench. The lilac cushion cheekily emitted a puff of orange dust and a squeak similar to that of a Muggle whoopee cushion. George gave her a meek apologetic look

"I only got them properly working last night. I'd been working on it on and off for about four months. It was dad who got me thinking of it. He's got this Muggle machine at home; Dung brought it for him if you can believe it. Said he ran across it in a back alley deal. Nicked it from some poor Muggle more likely."

Hermione scowled at this, but George continued.

"Well you'd know more about it than me. It's sort of like a camera that takes moving pictures, just like wizard ones, but without any magic. It moves just the same, but there's sound too, and it goes on for longer."

"A Camcorder?" Hermione muttered, confused.

"Yeah, something like that. Dad said it spoke to the Vee-Sea-Argh machine and then whatever you took a picture of, played on the Telly. Dad's kept it all at our, I mean, at my flat. Save mum going through the roof."

"So you've made Magical Video Cameras then?" Hermione asked, still not seeing the market. She didn't know how to break it to him that this new product wasn't entirely dissimilar to normal magical photographs. "But, George, surely…"

"It's no different from your average Wizarding picture right?" George wryly acknowledged her look of concern. Hermione only nodded, flushing a little.

"That's what Mum said. Dad figured the same, but you know how he is with Muggle stuff. But it got me thinking. Ever read how the Magical film is processed?"

Hermione sat up a little more in her chair.

"Yes! In my first-"

George held out a hand to stop her.

"Foolish Question, I know."

Ron barrelled in the door at this point, more of the square boxes levitating behind him. "Told 'Mione 'bout the new products yet? They're bloody wicked."

"All in good time. So yeah, Magical Pictures use normal Muggle film, but they're developed in a special potion-"

"Excito Animatum!" Hermione exclaimed.

George raised his eyebrows at his brother as Ron fell onto a stool behind her.

"Was she like this all through school, mate?"

"Worse." Ron smirked.

Hermione gave him swift kick in the shins. George merely laughed into his tea.

"Right, and so I decided to see what happened when you put the film from the video thingy-"

"Camcorder." It was a force of habit and Hermione really couldn't help herself.

"Whatever- into the Excito solution."

"I think dad's still pissed with you on that one, mate," Ron interjected. George only grimaced in memory.

"I take that it didn't work then." Hermione had a sneaking suspicion George had simply immersed a tape into bubbling cauldron, and could only imagine the fallout.

"You should see the apartment." Ron snorted.

"Both tin can and tiara are treasure to a Kneazle," George continued, in the air of a long-suffering poet. "Okay, so, it was a complete bloody disaster. I asked Harry what he thought of the whole idea, since he was raised by those awful Muggles. He reckoned he never got close enough to their telly to breathe on it, never mind work it, but he did come up with-"

"Hang on." Hermione interrupted stoutly. "Why didn't you ask me?"

Once again George and Ron exchanged glances.

"I mean," She continued, getting slightly defensive, "Sure, I've not been the biggest fan of some of this store's output, but I do understand Muggle technology! And potions for that matter!"

"'Mione, when did he have chance to ask you?" Ron shot back, coming to his brother's defense. "You've spent the last ten months at work, or shut up in Percy's old bedroom."

"It really is like having Percy back you know." George remarked.

Hermione felt her face burn pink with shame. Had she really been that bad?

"I've been down for meals and things." She said sullenly.

George only laughed at that.

"Oh yes. 'Mum, could you pass me those potatoes? Cheers. So Hermione, we blew up four of dad's vid-ee-oh tapes last night, any ideas?"

Hermione only blushed harder.

Ron, somewhat out of character, seemed to pick up on her discomfort, and patted her gingerly on the shoulder. "It's alright, 'Mione. We know it's just for work. It's not forever or anything."

Hermione Granger you are a terrible human being.

She wished the floor could have swallowed her up then and there.

"But listen, you haven't heard the brilliant part yet. So I explained it all to Harry, how I wanted to make some sort of video things for Wizards."

Hermione really wasn't in the mood anymore, but she smiled politely, waiting for him to continue.

"So Harry was all for helping you then?" she asked, attempting to spur him along.

"Nope," George said simply. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Why ever not?"

"Didn't see the point did he?" Ron mumbled with his mouth full of biscuit.

"He reckoned people could always chuck it in a Pensieve and show their mates later," George chortled.

Hermione drew a blank. She thought that was a rather valid point actually. Behind her Ron had evidently swallowed down the biscuit and was laughing along.

George seemed a bit put out by her reaction. "Well come on, Hermione, who do you know that's got a spare Pensieve lying about?"

"They're about 700 galleons. Give or take on quality and the maker." Ron told her in an infuriatingly patient voice.

"That price is mainly due to time it takes to make them, of course. It's extremely complex magic, to be able to sustain multiple memories while simultaneously allowing for their addition and removal. Plus, there's no real market for anything like that."

Hermione was utterly fed up at this point. She hated pleading ignorance to aspects of the Wizarding world.

"The boxes," She said pointedly, attempting to bring George back on topic.

George leant across the table and pulled one of the boxes towards him. Opening the orange packaging, he withdrew a glass orb, not dissimilar from a typical crystal ball.

Inside the ball, which made no sense for it seemed completely solid, was a swirling silver smoke. At least, Hermione thought it most resembled smoke. It could have been liquid too, at second glance. George didn't take his eyes from her face as he tapped the orb twice with his wand. Instantly the smoke or liquid or whatever it was shifted to form a flat screen. The squashed toad face of Dolores Umbridge appeared in the globe, robes disheveled and hair askew. Behind her, a small bang emitted from the glass, then a roar, as one of the twin's fiery pinwheels chased her down what looked to be the 2nd floor charms corridor.

Instead of the scene repeating, as it would in a normal Wizarding photograph, the smog shifted again, and new scene formed. The sights and sounds of a bustling Hogwarts corridor came into view. Just as a group of surly Slytherin emerged from a classroom, there was a tremendous welching sound from within the globe, and the floor of the corridor gave way to a marshy, sulfurous swamp. Hermione imagined for a moment she could faintly smell it. The globe played on for another minute showcasing the student's hilarious attempts to navigate the mess. With one last Slytherin falling face first into the bog, the globe's contents shifted and returned to normal.

Hermione had to admit; it was absolutely breathtaking magic.

"How? However did you manage to- just… How?!" She exclaimed. George's grin was enormous as he took in her reaction. Ron beside her was still cackling away at Umbridge's ministrations.

"Well the basic concept of the Excito Animatum is to bring an image to life, so why should it be any different with a memory?"

"You mean, you've developed memories!?" Hermione spluttered.

"Took ages to find something that would sustain the images. The orbs are filled with a modified Excito solution, you transfer a memory straight from your head, or a Pensieve, into the middle and it takes about 4 to 5 hours to configure."

"But that's absurd! There's no known record of memories ever been used in conjuncture with potions!"

Ron and George exchanged a blank look at her outburst.

"Well, I guess there is now 'Mione." Ron said calmly. Hermione simply gaped at the two of them, who plainly failed to understand how much of a remarkable achievement this was.

George, it seemed, was actually disappointed.

"Some memories come out -well- wrong. You need to have been really concentrating at the time. If you're under any sort of charm, or drug or alcohol, it comes out completely off. It has to be relatively recent too." He shared a grim look with Ron before pulling out another globe, this time from his pocket.

Tapping it once, the foggy shifted slowly to form a blurry, fluctuating screen. Hermione thought she could make out a child clutching a teddy bear, before it shifted into an enormous spider. The smoke didn't shift, but the screen swung to show another redheaded youth on the floor laughing.

Fred.

Hermione wondered how many failed globes George still had at home. She wondered how much of this really was about showcasing pranks.

As the smog shifted back to normal, George was the first break the sombre silence. "We think powerful emotion distorts the process as well."