Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The Great Weasley Strife
The great Weasley strife of 1994 would go down in history as the most divided fight our family has ever faced. And it started when we returned from the Garden Party. "What are you doing?" George demanded to know; his voice tainted with a tinge of panic.
Spread out on the kitchen table were examples of all Fred and George's hard work. One side of the table looked like a deconstructed rainbow as all their different sweets were mixed together; from skiving snacks to ton-tongue toffees. On the other end were all their designs and plans. In between the two was a pile of askew fake wands. Though, based on how they'd been placed, they looked more like kindling than wands.
Mum's anger was of the cold variety as she stood by the table, holding a signal piece of parchment. "Nosebleed nougat, fainting fancies-" She read off in a deceptively flat tone.
"You went through our stuff!" Fred accused as he entered the kitchen behind them. The others weren't far behind. Ron, Ginny, and Percy eyed the stockpiles on the table with unsurprised suspicion. Having witnessed the poor sods who had unknowingly tested some of Fred and George's sweets at the party, they could probably guess what Mum had found.
"Fever fudge, puking pastilles-" Mum continued.
The one with the most nervous reaction was Hermione. Since Ron invited her to go to the quidditch world cup with us and magical travel wasn't as easy for her as it was for everyone else, she had come home with us to stay until the start of term. Having not been a guest as frequent as our other friends, Mum's ire wasn't something Hermione had a lot of exposure to. She started out standing next to Ron, but as Mum and my fellow triplets started to heat up, she slowly tucked herself behind us.
"You shouldn't have gone into our room!" George shouted to cut Mum off. "This is private".
The parchment wrinkled in Mum's tight grip as she lowered it away from her face. "I went into your room to clean. And it's a good thing I did". With a frazzled gesture, Mum drew our attention to the pile of parchment on the table. "Order forms. You were planning on selling these… these…"
"Our line of joke products", Fred supplied; his jaw clenching in a tense fashion.
"These foolish creations!" Mum expressed.
Mum's words provoked harsh identical winces from Fred and George. "Hey, Ginny", I whispered over my shoulder. "Go show Hermione our room. The extra bed is probably already set up".
It took Ginny a few seconds to comprehend what I said as she pulled her attention away from the domestic that was building in front of us. But when she did, Ginny nodded with a sympathetic eye cast on Fred and George. "You two don't know what you're doing", Mum spoke forebodingly as Hermione and Ginny disappeared for the stairs. "If you sold anything… What if someone had gotten hurt?"
George rolled his eyes as Fred scoffed. "We did research. No one's going to get hurt from the stuff we make", George argued.
"George and I tested everything ourselves first, and we were fine", Fred said; failing to notice how that information only made Mum bristle more. "Holly was fine too when we tried them on her".
Mum was red enough to be mistaken for a flame with her hair being the outer part and her face being the middle part. "You experimented on your sister!" Mum roared.
"I volunteered", I broke in quickly. Well… I mostly volunteered. But Mum didn't need to know that.
"Nothing bad happened", George continued as Mum fumed; furiously shaking her head. "Nothing bad is going to happen!"
Looking over my shoulder, I mouthed a few suggestions at a wide-eyed Percy and nodded my head in the direction Hermione and Ginny had gone. "I should have known", Mum said to herself; Fred and George's words passing by her ears unheard. There was the sound of rustling parchment as a light of comprehension sparked in Percy's eyes. "I should have known", Mum repeated. Only louder this time as Percy placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and started to herd him towards the stairs. Although, Ron looked like he really wanted to stay for the show.
Trusting Percy to take care of nosy little brothers, I faced forward in time to see that Mum had exchanged parchment. In her hands, holding it out for us to see, was the mock-up logo my fellow triplets had worked so hard to design. "It is always you three. Thick as thieves. Causing mischief and scheming!"
"It's not a scheme!" Fred interjected; nearly blocking out the sounds of Percy dragging Ron away. "This is what we want to do".
"We're going to open a joke shop. But a shop costs money so we need to start selling now before we leave Hogwarts", George continued sounding almost reasonable. Though his pinched face and the vein twitching in his temple betrayed him.
Mum let out a frustrated noise as she kept shaking her head at us. As if that was enough to make us see the error of our ways. "Irresponsible, thoughtless, pointless-" Mum cut herself off to exhale loudly through her nose.
"It's our dream!" Fred's voice was getting louder and louder as his complexion came close to matching Mum's.
"You need to grow up", Mum said; pinning us with her eyes. "All three of you. This will be your sixth year at Hogwarts. You only have two more years of school left. It's time to plan for your future. You'll need jobs that support you. Chasing a fantasy won't provide you with a roof, or clothes, or… or food!"
"Our joke shop won't be a fantasy", George insisted; his hands balled in fists and a glare fixed on his face. Though he kept his eyes away from Mum; choosing to direct his upset at the ground.
"BE SERIOUS", Mum yelled. Loud enough that if this was a cartoon the windows would've shook. "No one is going to pay for fake wands or puking cakes or whatever you're calling it". Mum dropped the drafted logo back onto the pile of parchment on the table as she pulled her wand out of her apron pocket. Gripping its handle too tightly, Mum pointed her wand at the stack of parchment and started twisting her wrist.
Recognizing both the movement and her intention, I pushed myself in front of Fred and George. "Mum, don't!" I tried.
But it was too late. The mock-ups, product notes and recipes, lists, and all their plans when up in flames; dying out only when a pile of ash was left on the table with the table remaining unblemished. For the first time since we got home, there was silence. Fred stared at the pile of ash with his nostrils flaring. George stared at the pile of ash, visibly trembling. I stared at the pile of ash with my mouth hanging open. How could she… Tearing my eyes away from the hurtful sight, I looked at Mum. Slowly, she returned her wand to her apron pocket. None of her fury had vanished with her act, but she had returned to that state of icy anger that promised we wouldn't be forgiven for a while. "You'll destroy all of that", Mum ordered; waving a dismissive hand to all the sweets and fake wands. "After today, I never want to see any of the like again. And if I ever catch you three making more-"
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I screeched; ready to match mum's fire with my own.
"Holly Agatha Weasley", Mum started in her best 'my word is final' voice. "Don't you dare take that tone with-"
"DON'T YOU DARE! DON'T YOU DARE CRUSH GEORGE'S AND FRED'S DREAMS LIKE THAT". I rarely shouted at full volume, so I was already starting to feel a strain in my voice. But I'll regret nothing about this moment. Sure, I knew Mum would be mad about my fellow triplet's career choices. But how could she just… just take away years of their hard work? I had watched them design and make most of their products. From the names to the researched ingredients to the creatively applied charmwork; Fred and George had pulled their hearts into all their inventions. Did she not sense any of that from looking at what they've made? Did she not see how crushed they were to hear her say their aspirations were rubbish? "WHAT KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU?"
Maybe it was how accusatory I was being, but Mum had no problem matching my volume in her response. "NO CHILDREN OF MINE WILL END IN AZKABAN FOR MISUSE OF MAGIC!"
"THAT WON'T HAPPEN". I felt like a landmine that had just been stepped on. Fred and George may be her sons, but they were my fellow triplets. No one was allowed to stomp on them like this. No one. "GEORGE AND FRED ARE THE SMARTEST PEOPLE I KNOW. IF THEY WANT TO OWN A JOKE SHOP, THEY WILL. AND IT'LL BE THE BEST DAMN JOKE SHOP IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. NO, THE WORLD. AND THEY DON'T NEED YOUR PERMISSION TO DO IT!" Done, absolutely done, I turned my back to Mum and grabbed each of my brother's hands. Slightly subdued from the act of watching their own mother burn months and months of planning and creative thinking, Fred and George allowed me to lead them away.
"HOLLY WEASLEY-" Mum yelled after me. But she gave up as if realizing she'd have to chase after us if she wanted to continue and knowing that probably wouldn't cause whatever short-sighted outcome she was hoping to receive.
Pulling my fellow triplets behind; their hands feeling slack in mine, I stomped up the stairs loud enough to make tap dancers envious. When we reached the second landing, their grip returned and they clutched onto my hands like I was a bloody lifeline. This continued all the way to their room. At their door, I stopped and forced them to let go of my hands so I could turn around to face them. Fuming and still shaking from Mum's insensitive words, I tried to organize my thoughts and come up with something comforting. Instead, I said, "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. That's what you'll name your shop. You'll be a big success and Mum will have to serve herself a gigantic piece of humble pie. Now, come on. We got work to do".
Dad's shed was a treasure trove of wonders I'd never explored until now. When I wasn't glaring at Mum or helping Fred and George recover their losses, I started spending my spare time here. It was easier to breathe amongst all of Dad's spare parts, broken appliances, and random objects that he didn't know the function of. And that's with the slightly damp smell that lived only in this shed.
There were piles of batteries of all kinds. From car batteries to the little circle ones that were a pain in the ass to change. There were pieces of plywood and brand-new PVC pipes of various sizes. Seriously, where did Dad even find this? Under an old bagpipe but on top of an overturned ceramic flower pot, I found the Furby that used to fascinate Dad.
Dad had multiple toolboxes and they were the only things in the shed that he appeared to keep somewhat organized. In one of them, all he had was duct tape. Rolls and rolls of multicolored duct tape. The second actually had tools: a hammer, a wrench, screwdrivers, a level, and even screws and nails. Although, there was an uneven ratio of Phillips head screwdrivers compared to everything else. And the last toolbox…. It contained rubber ducks and door stoppers. For the life of me, I couldn't reason why or how Dad had come to the conclusion that rubber ducks and door stoppers had enough in common to be sorted together.
The first couple of times I came here I didn't do much. Just puttered around and enjoyed the non-deafening and unhostile silence that the shed offered. But over time I stumbled across an unused mouse trap and CDs Dad had strung up by the windows like he thought they were a decoration. Naturally, such discoveries and a craving to stay out here as long as I could; led me to dust off Jessie's knowledge obtained from American 8th-grade physical science. Specifically, I started to build a mousetrap car… Or I attempted to. In the future when Jessie would be in the 8th grade, it wasn't like I had taken the first and only mousetrap car I built seriously. But I knew the body of the car needed to be light. So, I started there.
It wasn't a one-day project. Doing this purely from memory and trial and error, meant I needed to walk away a few times. Finding the right parts or materials also took a lot of time too. But I kept coming back. After assuring Fred and George for the fifteenth time that they were right and Mum was wrong; go to the shed. Sit through another uncomfortable dinner where the conversation was tense; go to the shed. Yell at Mum for being insensitive; go to the shed. Get yelled at for throwing away my future to chase this foolish dream (Mum was still under the impression I had a part of the joke shop endeavor and I was in no hurry to correct her); go to the shed.
No one was fooled about where I was disappearing to. With the limits of where we could go, thanks to Lockhart and Pettigrew, everyone knew I was seeking refuge in Dad's shed. But they were kindly giving me space; tip-toeing around me. Not just me, really. But Mum and my fellow triplets too. I'm sure all our siblings and Dad had opinions about Fred and George's business plan. However, they were smarter than Mum and kept their opinions to themselves.
Sitting on Dad's workbench, I was winding up my string on the rear axle when he found me. "Holly?" Dad asked as he came to stand by his collection of handheld radios.
Since my hands had something to do, I didn't immediately react. "Did Mum send you out here to tell me to stop being stupid and apologize?" I asked once the string was fully tight. Only then did I look away from my car and turned my eyes to Dad.
"Not in so many words", Dad said with a grimace of a smile. He was fidgeting slightly. But not because Dad was uncomfortable having to be the middle man between his children and his wife. If I had to guess, Dad was fidgeting because he knew he needed to focus on this conversation, but all his attention was trying to shift to the product of my efforts.
"She hurt them", I pointed out with no need to define who I meant by 'them'.
"Your Mum's worried", Dad said as he inched closer. As if that was enough of a reason to excuse belittling someone's dreams.
It took conscious effort on my part to keep my hands gentle. I had put too much effort into building this car to carelessly break it now. "Mum's worried Bill's going to get trapped in some tomb, but she doesn't tell him being a curse breaker is foolish. Mum's worried Charlie will be burned or mauled by a dragon, but she doesn't tell him he's being irresponsible. Why is this different?"
There was a pause that only ended when Dad cleared his throat. "She doesn't want any of you to have to live hand to mouth", Dad answered; refusing to answer my question directly.
Tapping the body of the mousetrap car repeatedly with my index finger, I let out some of my frustrated energy. "Fred and George can do it, Dad. I know they can".
Dad glanced over his shoulder as if making sure no one had managed to sneak in without us noticing. Once satisfied, Dad took another step closer and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I believe they can do it too", Dad whispered.
I wasn't surprised, but his response had me leaning away from him so I could re-appraise him in full. "Then why are you taking Mum's side?"
Offering a lopsided smile, Dad shrugged. "We're married. I'm positive taking your mother's side was in our vows". Despite myself, one singular huff of amusement escaped me without my permission. "Now", Dad said; signally a topic change by giving my shoulder a small shake. "What do we have here?" he asked; fully and eagerly attending to the contraption I was holding in place.
"It's a mousetrap car", I explained. Also turning my attention back to the car. "When I was Jessie, I had to make one once for school. When I let go, the mousetrap will… You know what, just let me show you". Dad let go of my shoulder and took a step back to give me space. While I carefully stood up; keeping one hand to pin the mousetrap spring down and the other to keep the back wheels still.
Coming to stand next to dad, with a narrow but clear stretch of the floor in front of us, I knelt down. First, I aligned the car as must as I could, and then I double-checked that the string was tight. The last thing to do was remove my hands and make sure I was out of the way completely. The mousetrap sprung; pulling the string, and rotating the axis in the process. "Fascinating", Dad announced as we watched the little car roll across the shed on the wobbly CDs I used for wheels. While I didn't share Dad's enthusiasm, I did feel a sense of satisfaction. It's nice to build something that works. The car ended its journey when it ran into a bucket filled with sponges and toilet brushes. "And muggles use mousetraps to make things move? I thought, given the name, they were used to catch mice. These muggles", Dad mused with a fond shake of his head. As if muggles were a word that better described endearing and childish creativity rather than nonmagical people.
"Uh… no", I corrected; standing up as Dad walked over to the mousetrap car so he could study it closer. "Mousetraps do catch mice. I just… repurposed it. Muggles do that a lot. Or, at least, some of them do. Muggles are smart", I tacked onto the end. Just because I felt that needed to be acknowledged. Even though, just like with wizard kind, not every single muggle was smart.
Dad picked up my contraption with delicate hands. "And these are wheels?" He inquired as he used one finger to spin one of the CDs. "I thought muggles just liked them because they were shiny. It didn't occur to me they were functional".
Dad's assumption had me wincing in sympathy for mugglekind. Even though I haven't been a muggle for a long time. "No", I corrected again. "They're called CDs. I repurposed them for wheels, but people use CDs to…. They're like records. But instead of a gramophone, they play them on… I don't know how to explain this to you", I said; giving up. Mostly because whatever answer I gave Dad would only lead to more questions. And while I know how to use a CD, I didn't know how they were made.
"Let's make another one", Dad said; sounding like a kid who had just been given his first Lego set.
"Yeah, alright", I agreed with a shrug; feeling more amicable now that I knew I wasn't the only one who thought Fred and George could successfully own a joke shop. Besides, building 8th-grade science projects with Dad meant more time hiding out in the shed. Joining Dad at his workbench, we both sat down and Dad started commenting on different things he wanted to try for wheels and other parts. "Hey Dad", I interrupted before we could really get to invest in the project. Dad's pause was the only cue I got that he was listening. "I know you have to side with Mum, but can you find a way to tell George and Fred that you believe in them? They're acting like it doesn't hurt, but right now they think our whole family thinks they're a joke. And not in a good way. Maybe you could-"
Dad cut me off by his hand returning to my shoulder. "I'll manage something", he promised.