Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The Mundane of the Burrow
Upon returning home from Diagon Alley I wasn't given the chance to pull George and Fred aside to inform them about our rather permanent house guest. The dynamic duo had struck again. And Mum wasn't having it. "Of all half-wit, thoughtless plans" Mum scolded as she bustled around the kitchen; waving her wand in a flourish as she made pots and pans bang together; setting themselves up to prepare the evening meal. Fred and George sat at the table with their heads bowed. They were trying to look contrite, but they weren't fooling anyone. The shaking of their shoulders gave away their silent snickers, and if you looked closely enough you could see the signs of a smile on their downturned faces. "Why, I have half a mind…" Mum started to say but trailed off with a frustrated shake of her head. With the pots bubbling on the stove, Mum began to magically peel the potatoes. Seeing as my fellow triplets are probably going to be stuck sitting at the kitchen table until after dinner, I cast them one more look before leaving to seek refuge somewhere else in the house. It seemed Scabbers will be safe a while longer. I don't want to make any plans without Fred and George. That's partially why I decided to share all my knowledge with them. So, I didn't have to make hard choices alone.
But what exactly did Fred and George do to get in trouble? They tried to bribe an older wizard to buy a rather explosive potion ingredient for them. One that can only be bought by someone of majority age. Unfortunately for them, the wizard they approached had a strong sense of moral responsibility and had marched Fred and George straight to the Leaky Cauldron to tell our mum about what they were trying to do.
I found Ron sitting on the woven rug in the family room with a chessboard set up before him. But he wasn't really playing. It's hard to play chess by yourself. Even if it is wizards' chess and the pieces can move. "Alright, Ron?" I asked as I walked behind him to sit on the worn, lumpy settee. I have to wriggle to find a comfortable spot. This thing is so old that the stuffing tends to adjust itself based on who is sitting on it. At least it's not overstuffed like Dad's favorite armchair. Terrible back support, that chair has.
Ron craned his head around to look up at me. "You're not in trouble?" He asked.
"Why would I be in trouble?" I asked. "I've been with Percy all afternoon".
Ron shrugged and turned back to stare at the chessboard. "If they're in trouble you usually are too".
I rolled my eyes. Why does everyone insist that Fred, George, and I are synonyms? If one of us did something, then we must have all done it. The truth of the matter is, Fred and George are the masterminds. I lack the creativity to come up with fantastical ideas that pop into their heads. I'm just along for the ride in most situations. There was that one time in my first year that I was adamant that we make public enemies with Filch. But I was trying to make sure that Fred and George discovered and stole the marauders' map from Filch's office. Just imagine what the Harry Potter series would be like if Harry didn't have the map. And there was that thing from last year when I used an engorgio charm on Patricia Stimpson's chest.
Sitting behind Ron, I chuckled to myself. Merlin, that had been a good day. I had made Stimpson so top-heavy that she couldn't walk with a straight back on her way to the hospital wing. Imagine that on a twelve-year-old. It was like watching a badly scripted clown act. She had even popped off a couple of buttons on her blouse. The witch had it coming considering that she accused me of stuffing my bra in front of Pucey. Completely justified on my part. Even if McGonagall did not agree. Smothering my amusement, I returned my focus to Ron. "So, why are you playing chess by yourself?"
Ron's shoulders hunched forward as if reminded of something unpleasant. "Percy said we could have a game. But when Mum started to have a go at those two" Ron said, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. "He became worried that all the yelling would upset Hermes, and went to go take care of him instead". Ron spoke mournfully. "He's been in his room ever since". Aw, yes. The tales of a neglected younger brother.
"I'll play, '' I said with a shrug. It's not like I have anything better to do. Besides, maybe if I pay a lot of attention to Ron, he'll have better self-confidence in his fourth year and he and Harry won't have that terrible argument in their fourth year. Maybe that would even prevent him from leaving Harry and Hermione during the Horcrux hunt. Of course, that might mean that he wouldn't be there to prevent Harry from being strangled by the locket… But that's a headache for another day.
Ron looked at me from over his shoulder again. "But you're awful at chess" He whined.
I give him a deadpanned look. This brat. You give him a hand and he throws it back at your face. "Fine," I said, making a show of standing up. "If you rather play by yourself, I'll just go ask Ginny if she wants to do something".
"No," Ron said quickly. Twisting his spine so that he can see me more fully. "You can play". So, instead of walking out of the room, I resituated myself until I was sitting across from Ron on the floor with the chessboard between us. Too easy. I spend the rest of the time before dinner losing to an eleven-year-old who smiles wider and wider with every captured piece. See, this is why I need Fred and George to help me move forward. I suck at planning for a long game.
Dinner was in full swing by the time Dad made it home from the ministry. "Evening Weasleys!" Dad greeted as he hung his hat and cloak on the coat rack by the kitchen door. He walked the long way around the table to kiss Mum on her temple before heading back to where he was when he first entered the room. "Food looks good," he said as he clapped Charlie on the shoulder and rubbed the top of Ginny's head. Only then does he take his place at the head of the table. With great practice and ease, all of us siblings worked to pass around the numerous serving platters of food so that Dad could get a serving of everything. "Mashed potatoes, Cabbage salad" Dad listed as he added a ladle full of each to his plate. "And roast beef". Dad looked up at Charlie and smiled at him, looking a little misty in the eyes. "All of your favorites," he said.
Charlie passed Dad the salt shaker. "Don't worry, Dad," Charlie said with his own smile. "I'm going to visit. Nothing in Romania is going to compare to Mum's cooking".
Mum immediately flushed as she busied herself with cutting up her roast beef. "Oh, you," she said in a mock scolding tone. Dad clapped Charlie on the shoulder once more before digging into his food. While all the rest of us siblings shared amused looks across the table. Fred with Ron. George with Percy, and me with Ginny. We hated to see any of our siblings go. In a way, it signaled an end of an era. Even if it was nice to have one less person to share a bathroom with. But we're children. And just like all children, we live with the anticipation of growing up. Moving out is simply the last chapter of childhood. Or at least it is in this house.
"So, what did everyone do today?" Dad asked, glancing around the table expectantly as he placed a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.
"We got the shopping done today," Mum said calmly. A little too calmly. No doubt she was getting ready to inform Dad exactly what had gone down in Diagon Alley today. Glancing to my right I saw Fred and George communicating with each other through looks. They're trying to find a way out. But I am not terribly sure why. This tactic has never worked for them before.
But Fred and George are spared a few more moments when an excited Ginny broke in. "Mummy got me a new dress," she said, leaning closer to Dad and absent-mindedly waving her fork around. A little bit of cabbages flew off and hit Ron on his cheek. Ron wiped it off with an affronted expression.
"Is that right?" Dad asked, sounding terribly interested. Although, He probably knew what Mum's plans were last night. Other than the occasional smuggling of a muggle item, there are no secrets between Mum and Dad.
Ginny nods, enthused as the rest of us use this time to stuff our faces. Meals tend to take a bit of time in the burrow due to all the talking. So, when you are not part of a conversation it is important to fill yourself when you can. "It's purple with a blue slash and there are little daisies on the skirt" Ginny described. While every male at the table, except Dad, dozed off. "Oh!" Ginny suddenly said. Startling Ron who had his nose so close to his plate that he was practically inhaling his food. "And Percy got an owl! She's very cute". The eleven-year-old gushed.
Percy coughed into a closed fist, signaling that he would like a turn to talk. I'm not sure why he feels the need to advertise that he is about to speak. Everyone else in this family just starts talking when they have something they want to say. "He" Percy corrected, looking directly at Ginny to make sure she understood that his owl was a male. "And as I told Holly earlier today, cuteness is unimportant. What is important is that Hermes is loyal, strong and a talented flyer".
"How do you know Hermes is loyal? You've only had him a couple of hours." I asked.
At the same time, Dad said, "You named him Hermes. Clever name for an owl. What type of owl is he?"
I am ignored in favor of answering Dad. A common enough occurrence in big families. It doesn't bother me. I am heard when it really matters. "A screech owl," Percy answered proudly. "The best in the shop. Holly was there when I bought him. She can attest to this". Percy finished, nodding his head in my direction.
"Holly," Dad said as he moved on to his next offspring, me. "You went shopping with Percy?" I nod; taking the time to swallow my food. "And what did you buy?"
"Not a lot," I answered. "Mum said I needed a new skirt for school. And I found two that were a good fit so I got those".
"Stockings" Mum broke in. "Did you get the stockings?"
I nodded at her once. "Yes, I got stockings too," I said before looking back at Dad. "I only needed one book this year and other than that it was just the regular amount of parchment and ink," I said, purposely leaving out the potion ingredients. Mum no doubt remembered what Fred and George did today. But I also don't need to encourage her to remember what they did faster. Though I did shoot Percy a long look when I said all of this. As a way to ask him not to bring up who we met at the bookstore. The name Adrian Pucey never needs to be mentioned at this table.
"Well, it sounds like you two had a pleasant day," Dad said, referring to Percy and me. He began to chew on a piece of beef.
"Yes", Mum agreed. By her posture, we could all tell she had more to say. But she seemed to be waiting for Dad to finish his bite of food.
I felt George nudging my foot under the table. Turning to face him, I saw him and Fred giving me giant puppy eyes. They want me to stall and give them some more time. I'm not sure why. There's no stopping Mum. I sigh. However, there's no harm in playing along either. "How was work, Dad?" I asked before Mum could finish her thought.
I could feel Mum's eyes boring into me as Dad's entire face lit up. She knew exactly why I had asked. "Marvelous" Dad said, gesturing with his hands as emphasis. "Absolutely stunning. Someone brought in a vacuum today. Fascinating thing, a vacuum. Unfortunately, it had been cursed to consume everything it touches. But when used for their intended purposes, muggles find them very useful." Dad said.
"Arthur" Mum tried to interrupt before Dad went off on one of his famous rants.
"Muggles use them to clean," Dad said, having not heard Mum. He looked around the table at all of us, nodding his head. As if to say, 'I know. I didn't believe it either'.
"Arthur!" Mum said again. This time louder; stopping Dad from going into further detail about the function of a Vacuum. Once Dad was looking at her, Mum returned to her inside voice. "You didn't ask what Fred and George did today while at Diagon Alley," Mum said in her sternest voice.
"Oh?" Dad said, already suspecting the worst. He eyed his identical sons wearily.
George laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head as Fred said, "We didn't need a whole lot either. Mostly just potion supplies".
"We spent most of our time at the apothecary," George added on.
Dad took his time as he thought through all the implications in their words. "Well, that doesn't seem-" Dad started to say.
"Arthur" Mum interjected again. "Your sons tried to purchase an ingredient that they were too young to buy by badgering a random adult. A complete stranger!"
"Now boys", Dad said, putting down his fork. "There are age restrictions for a reason".
"You didn't know who this person was!" Mum continued to talk. Now, directly at Fred and George. "He could have been a criminal. Or a murderer! What if he had tried to kidnap you two?"
"Mum!" Fred complained. Sounding absolutely exasperated. "We wouldn't have gotten ourselves killed or snatched. It's not like there are dark wizards wandering around Diagon Alley in broad daylight".
Well, I think to myself as I take a sip of water. There aren't any dark wizards in Diagon Alley yet. Give it time. We still have a couple more years before that happens. Charlie spoke up as Mum, Fred and George argued about rights and wrongs while Dad tried to be the peacekeeper. "Gin, Ron? Do you guys want to see if we can catch any fireflies down by the pond?"
Ron and Ginny nodded their response as they stood up. Quickly, Charlie did the same so he could lead them out. "I'll come too, '' I said; abandoning my mostly eaten dinner. The four of us make for the backyard as Percy excused himself. No doubt to check on Hermes. None of us wanted to be caught in the crossfires of a Mum and Fred and George fight.
A brunette woman, with hair sprawled out around her head as she laid on a dirt floor cried. "No. Please no". She pleaded between sobs. "It's not too late. You can walk away". Her hands were pressed against her abdomen as a warm, red liquid gushed through her fingers. She was slowly losing feeling in her lower extremities and the edges of her vision were starting to blur.
"Jessie, Jessie, Jessie" her killer tsked. "You're getting exactly what you asked for". The killer said in an eerily calm voice; running the edge of a bloodied butcher's knife along the length of Jessie's cheek. The Killer doesn't use enough force to cut Jessie's skin. Just enough to intimidate further. If that was even possible.
Like flipping a switch, the killer's face suddenly twists; contorting into a foul expression of evil, desire, and jubilation. Once, twice, maybe more; the knife is plunged into numerous locations of Jessie's body. Her last moments of consciousness involved the labored rise and fall of her mutilated chest and the sound of gurgling.
Moments later, I shot up in my bed. The patchwork quilt fell from my shoulders and pooled around my waist as I instinctually breathed through my mouth. My chest strains to calm my beating heart as I surveyed the room. I'm not in that place. I tell myself. There are no dirt floors here. I think as I glance down to the floor to confirm the hardwood of the Weasley household. There is no one here except for me and Ginny. I continued to reason with myself as I looked at all four corners of the room. First at the blue half of the room that belongs to me, and then at the pink half of the room that belongs to Ginny. Nothing is out of place. Not even Ginny's snoring is amiss. It's amazing what that child can sleep through. Slowly, my heart rate returned to normal. But that does nothing to cure my shaking hands.
I have been dreaming about Jessie's murder off and on for the entirety of my life. Well, the entirety of Holly's life. My nightmares used to terrify Mum and Dad. I'd wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. Clawing at my throat as if I was choking. And when someone tried to console me before I was fully awake, I would attack them; bite, scratch, kick, or punch. Anything I could do really. Once, when Bill was babysitting, I managed to strike him in the nose. There was blood everywhere. Dad had to take him to St. Mungos.
And when I am awake, I used to cry into their shoulders, "Dead. I'm dead". I think the most disconcerting thing for them was that there was no explanation about why I kept dreaming about being dead. At least, not for them. For a while, after I broke Bill's nose, I was taking a mild dosage of dreamless sleep potion before bed every night. But dreamless sleep is never supposed to be a long-term solution. And I was quickly weaned off it as soon as Mum and Dad felt it wise. The nightmares didn't stop. Obviously. But I learned how to deal. I learned not to cry out in my sleep. I figured out that reminding myself that I am Holly and not Jessie would help me calm down. But still, after a murder dream, I always find myself slipping out of bed and tiptoeing to the one place I did feel 100% safe.
Ginny's and my bedroom door is always open just a crack because Ginny doesn't like to sleep with it closed. So, it is easy to slip out into the hallway. I have to be mindful of one of the stairs that creak, but other than that it is pretty easy for me to get to Fred and George's room undetected.
Outside their door, I don't knock. I don't ask for permission as I enter their room. Neither of the two boys wakes at my presence and that's okay. I don't expect them to. Not when I have been doing this for years. Fred lied on his stomach, with his arms spread out over the sides of his bed as he slept. I skipped his bed in favor of George's. George's bed is the one furthest away from the door. And it's where I feel the most refuge. George preferred to sleep on his side. So, it is easy to slip under his quilt. As I lay my head on his pillow, the scent of grass and other undeterminable scents filled my nose. A sign that nothing bad can touch me here. I sighed in relief; decompressing. But I could still feel Jessie's terror. Or rather, I still remembered Jessie's terror.
George turned over in his bed. Probably woken up as I made myself comfortable. He stared at me a bit unfocused as sleep was still heavy in his eyes. But he didn't say anything. Like I've said, I've done this for years. Ever since Mum decided it was getting inappropriate for me to share a room with my fellow triplets. I even do this at Hogwarts. Luckily, girls can get into the boys' dorms without any problems. Instead, George swung an arm over my middle and pulled me in. Getting us as comfortable as two people can be on a twin-sized bed. "Nightmares?" He asked in a whisper.
"Yeah" I whispered back.
"They're about Jessie," he said, not phrasing it as a question. It seemed, after having learned of my reincarnation, George had put two and two together. "What happens in them?" He asked carefully.
No one had asked me that question in years. Not since it became clear that I would always argue that I didn't remember. But Fred and George know now. So, there's no point in keeping up that ruse. "I keep reliving how I died". George's arm tightened around my middle. Mum would probably be the one to find us tomorrow morning and I'll get another lecture about why I am too old to be sleeping in the same bed as my brothers. But it's worth it if I am able to go back to sleep after a murder dream. "Sorry I woke you," I said, closing my eyes. "Go back to sleep. I need to talk to you and Fred in the morning about something rather important that I forgot to mention". I whispered.
For a moment George is silent, and I think maybe he's going to let the subject drop. But he asked one more question. "Holls?" I hummed back at him to signal that he had my attention. "How did you die?"
Opening my eyes once more, I see the ceiling that Fred and George had decorated with cut-out stars. The voice I answered with sounded the same but felt a lot more like Jessie than Holly. "Someone killed me."
George tensed again. "How? Why?" He whispers urgently.
"Don't know". I answered. No matter how many times I have the same nightmare over and over again, I can never recall the details of the knife-wielding killer looming over me. I don't even know if Jessie's killer was a man or a woman. "I can never remember whose face I saw last before I became Holly. But I think it was someone I knew. Well, someone Jessie knew".