Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Whatnot

George’s POV:

We were all standing in Harry’s aunt and uncle’s kitchen now. I'd left Caroline sulking with Ginny back at the Burrow. Neither one was happy about being left behind, but they had said goodbye to us with only a hint of iciness.

“All right, all right, we’ll have time for a cozy catch-up later,” roared Moody over the noise everyone was making and we all fell silent.

Moody turned to Harry, “As Dedalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He’s made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother’s charm does that already. What he’s really done is to stop you from getting out of here safely.

“Second problem. You’re underage, which means you’ve still got the Trace on you.”

“I don’t—”

“The Trace, the Trace!” said Mad-Eye impatiently. “The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters.

“We can’t wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you’ll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he’s got you cornered good and proper.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can’t detect, because we don’t need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid’s motorbike. Now, your mother’s charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or”—Moody gestured around the kitchen—“you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight, in the full understanding that you’re never going to live together again, correct?”

Harry nodded.

“So this time, when you leave, there’ll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you get outside its range. We’ve choosen to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and seize you the moment you turn seventeen.

“The one thing we’ve got on our side is that You-Know-who doesn’t know we’re moving you tonight. We’ve leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you’re not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we’re dealing with, so we can’t just rely on him getting the date wrong; he’s bound to have a couple Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case. So we’ve given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we’re going to hide you, they’ve all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingsley’s place, Molly's auntie Muriel’s—you get the idea.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, though he looked skeptical.

“You’ll be going to Tonks’s parents. Once you’re within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we’ve put on their house you’ll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?”

“Er—yes,” said Harry. “Maybe they won’t know which of the twelve secure houses I’m heading for at first, but won’t it be sort of obvious once…fourteen of us fly off towards Tonks’s parents’?”

“Ah,” said Moody. “I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won’t be flying to Tonks’s parents. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house.”

Moody pulled out a flask of polyjuice potion from under his cloak.

“No!” Harry said loudly, “No way!”

“I told them you’d take it like this,” said Hermione with a sigh.

“If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives—!”

“—because it’s the first time for all of us,” said Ron.

“This is different, pretending to be me—”

“Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry,” said Fred. “Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever.”

“You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate, you need me to give you some hair.”

“Well, that’s that plan scuppered,” I said. “Obviously there’s no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate.”

“Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic; we’ve got no chance,” said Fred.

“Funny,” said Harry, “really amusing.”

“If it has to come to force, then it will,” growled Moody, his magical eye shaking as he glared at Harry “Everyone here’s overage, Potter, and they’re all prepared to take the risk. Let’s have no more arguments. Time’s wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now.”

“But this is mad, there’s no need—”

“No need!” snarled Moody, “With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we’re lucky he’ll have swallowed the fake bait and he’ll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he’d be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it’s what I’d do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother’s charm holds, but it’s about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.”

“So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please.”

Harry glanced at Ron, who grimaced at him in a just-do-it sort of way.

“Now!” barked Moody.

Finally, Harry reached up and yanked out some hairs.

“Good,” said Moody, limping forward with his flask. “Straight in here, if you please.”

Harry dropped the hair into the mudlike liquid. Immediately, the potion began to bubble and smoke, then, all at once, it turned a clear, bright gold.

“Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry,” said Hermione.

Fred and I snickered and Ron raised his eyebrows, causing her to blush and say, “Oh, you now what I mean—Goyle’s potion looked like bogies.”

“Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please” said Moody.

We lined up in front of the sink.

“We’re one short,” said Lupin.

“Here,” said Hagrid gruffly, and he lifted Mundungus by his neck and dropped him down beside Fleur, who wrinkled her nose and moved to stand between me and Fred instead.

“I’ve told yer, I’d sooner be a protector,” said Mundungus.

“Shut it,” growled Moody. “As I’ve already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eaters we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-who would want to finish Potter in person. It’ll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters’ll want to kill them.”

“Altogether, then . . . ”

We all drank the potion he handed each of us and grimaced at the taste. I looked around at the others to see their features changing and distorting. Ron, Fred, and I all seemed to be shrinking as Hermione and Mundungus shot upward.

I looked at Fred and at the same time we said, “Wow—we’re identical!”

“I dunno, though. I think I’m still better looking,” said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

I rolled my eyes.

“Bah,” said Fleur, checking herself in the microwave door, “Bill, don’t look at me—I’m ’ideous.”

“Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I’ve got smaller here,” said Moody, indicating the first sack, “and vice versa. Don’t forget the glasses, there’s six pairs in the side pocket. And when you’re dressed, there’s luggage in the other sack.”

We all began stripping and grabbing different clothes, shoving on glasses and grabbing cages with stuffed owls in them.

“I knew Ginny was lying about that that tattoo,” said Ron, looking down at his bare chest.

“Harry, your eyesight really is awful,” said Hermione, as she put on glasses.

“Good,” said Moody, as we faced him, “The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus will be traveling with me, by broom—”

“Why’m I with you?” grunted the Harry nearest the back door.

“Because you’re the one that needs watching,” growled Moody, his magical eye not leaving Mundungus even as he continued. “Arthur and Fred—”

“I’m George,” said Fred.

“Can’t you even tell us apart when we’re Harry?” I asked.

“Sorry, George—”

“I’m only yanking your wand. I’m Fred really—”

“Enough messing around!!” snarled Moody. “The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you’re with Remus. Miss Delacour—”

“I’m taking Fleur on a thestral,” said Bill. “She’s not that fond of brooms.”

“Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—”

“Which leaves you and me, Ron!” said Tonks cheerily, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at him.

Ron did not look reassured.

“An’ you’re with me, Harry. That all right?” said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. “We’ll be on the bike, brooms an’ thestrals can’t take me weight, see. Not a lot o’ room on the seat with me on it, though, so you’ll be in the sidecar.”

“That’s great,” said Harry.

“We think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom,” said Moody. “Snape’s had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he’s never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we’re betting they’ll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then,” he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters’ clothes in it and leading the way back to the door,

“I make it three minutes until we’re supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won’t keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking. Come on . . . ”