The Offering
Part 3
"And it can be anybody?" Molly Weasley asked, having shook her apathy for a few moments.
"Anybody important to the family, Mum. Can be a relative or a friend." George answered. "I put an offering for Fred two years ago. I thought it would be, I don't know, just a way to remember him. But I felt his presence at my flat. Last year Harry put his own offering. And he told me he had fallen asleep close to the altar. He dreamed of his parents, Sirius, and even Fred, Tonks and Lupin. The rascal even took a tamale with him!"
He laughed softly. "I know I didn't put any tamale in my offering, but I found the corn leaves they are wrapped in, right between the plate with Fred's sandwich and the bottle of butter beer. I was a bit jealous of Fred visiting Harry first, until Harry told me he just stayed for a few minutes. As if he had some other place to be. My flat."
Molly sighed. "I don't know, George. I don't know. These weird rituals for the other side of the world. They are kinda barbaric."
"Don't ever check what the Aztecs did. The Day of the Dead offering is very, very tame in comparison."
"…"
"Thing is, I've been thinking a lot. About the offering, the components, and their meaning. I don't know how they work within the mesoamerican magic. I don't know why would they work for people who doesn't even believe in their afterlife. Maybe the muggles are right, I… I asked Hermione to get me some books about archaicology. There's no magic in them, not even the knowledge of magic. I even asked Sergio, the Mexican wizard who showed me the way to set the offering. It might be that the ritual is not really for the dead ones, but for the living, so the still living relatives can manage the grief constructively."
He pulled softly at his short beard. "Two years ago, I couldn't think of Fred without feeling I was breaking inside again. Whenever I remembered him, all I could see… I think it's the same you see, Mom."
He took her hands in his, looking warmly into her eyes. "Putting up the offering, I began to remember the good thing, the good times, our pranks, our adventures, our dreams, Mom. And it didn't hurt so much anymore."
"Please, come with me to my flat, help me put the altar for him. Dad already agreed, but said he wouldn't do it without you."
"Can we put it here, in the Burrow?" She asked shyly.
"Of course, Mom, I'll bring everything."
The Burrow
"It's done." George stepped back from the big altar set next to Arthur Weasley's Shed of Muggle Stuff.
"Do we need to do something, son? Some incantation?"
"Not really. Just remember them. Maybe talk to the pictures. Then we retire, talk about our memories, and let them come, and eat the spirit of the food and stay for a while among us."
The altar had several pictures, some taken from old photo albums, some bought from The Prophet archives or copied fromHogwarts student files. There was Fred, in one of those rare pictures without George. The surviving twin remembered the day the picture had been taken, Fred was looking at George, standing at the right of the image, with a big clown nose he had gotten somewhere. Over there, Dumbledore at a Wizengamot gathering; other had Arthur's parents, sharing a meal at their home with Molly's family. And near the center, a picture of Molly's brothers, the twins Fabian and Gideon Prewett. They looked to the left of the image, smiling at somebody or something out of the frame.
Fred and George had no memories of them, as they were killed by Death Eaters in the First Blood War. "You and Fred were so much like them, George. Always planning or doing pranks. So alike it hurt."
George smiled at the picture. "Tell me about them, Mom. Something from when you were kids. Something that make you smile."
Molly thought for a moment. "No." She shook her head, sadly, "Not yet. Maybe later. For now, let's have dinner. Charlie and Bill will be dropping by any minute now, and I want for them to have a hot meal."
As the night fell, the whole Weasley family gathered at the kitchen table, and gradually, memories and remembrances were shared. The last one to say something was Molly herself. "Back when I was a child. My brothers were the bane of my existence. Or so I thought. They were always using me to test their last prank or spell."
Ron squirmed awkwardly on his chair.
"But when I needed them, they were always there for me. There was a time I was cleaning an old shed, and it had a nest of doxies. I ran out screaming, and Fabian covered me with his coat, while Gideon blasted any doxy that dared to show its face." She smiled sadly, "I was bed-ridden for a couple of days, and they took turns to keep me company, and brought me food and candy. They even read me some Beedle, and they couldn't stand those stories!" There was a small, wan, but happy smile on her face.
She wrung her hands as she spoke. "After that, they never pranked me again. They explained me what they were aiming for. And sometimes I helped them to test their stuff."
She sobbed. "I miss them terribly."
Arthur wrapped her in a hug. "They were good blokes, Molly."
That night, Molly Weasley slept peacefully. She dreamed of old times. Of orchards and family. Of small spells and familiar laughter.
Come morning, she went back to the altar, to check the offering, everything was as it was the day before. Except that the picture of Fabian and Gideon had been swapped with Fred's, they looked like they were laughing with her son, from one picture to the other. The flowers around the pictures had not been disturbed.
Molly gasped, and knew they were okay.
With steady steps, she went back home. Back to her family.
Everything was well in the world.