Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and Whatnot

Fred’s POV:

Things at the shop were only getting worse. We still had business, but mostly everything around us had closed up. There were new stores specializing in Dark Arts popping up all over the place, not to mention the Death Eaters that came with it. We’d had a few in here, too, but they just skulked for a bit, then left. We were pretty sure it was because the Ministry was having Dad, as well as the rest of us, watched. Checking to see if we had contact with Harry or something. I wish we had contact with Harry. It was driving us all nuts not to have any idea what happened to them. At least we knew they were alive because we would hear right away if they were dead, but what comfort is there in that?

As the days dragged on with no change, George’s mood didn’t get any better, so naturally neither did mine. I could see how much he missed Caroline. Hell, anyone could see it. I missed her too, a lot, we all missed them, even our screwball of a little brother. It was hard on Mum especially, what with Dad still working at the Ministry, us still working in the midst of Death Eaters, Ron missing, and Ginny at Hogwarts with Snape as Headmaster.

“Mum wanted us home by dinner remember” George said.

“I don’t know how she expects us to make any money when we have to close up so early everyday”

“I think that’s the point”

I sighed, checking the clock. We had one more hour before we’d have to leave. Mum was still making us go back and forth between the house and the shop. Although, she’d let Ginny go back to school. We tried that argument, but she wouldn’t budge, saying Hogwarts was still safe enough, whereas Diagon Alley was crawling with Death Eaters every minute.

“We could handle it, I don’t know why she doesn’t trust us” George spoke again.

“I guess she feels the need to keep at least most of her family together”

“Then she should’ve kept Ginny home too”

I shrugged, “We’ll find out exactly what’s going on at the school when she comes home for the holidays”

His expression was blank for a moment, then he said “I hate waiting”

I clapped him on the shoulder, “I know mate, me too”

Normal POV:

When I woke up the next morning, Herms was already awake, but not Harry. She was sitting at the table with her head on her arms, shaking slightly. It looked as if she had started to make breakfast, then given up.

I continued where she left off with breakfast, and a little while later, Harry woke up.

None of us talked through breakfast or much after that. We began packing up camp in the afternoon. Hermione worked slowly, and I knew why. Because of all the enchantments we used, once we left this spot, there would be no way for Ron to find us again.

Finally, there were no more reasons why we shouldn’t leave, and Hermione gave up. We Disapparated onto a little hillside. Hermione immediately let go of our hands and sat down on a rock, head in her hands, shaking with her silent crying. I looked at Harry, but he refused to make eye contact.

He began setting up camp while I walked in a wide circle around the two of them, muttering the charms I heard Hermione say so many times before.

Over the next few days, we didn’t mention Ron. Harry didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and it was too hard for Hermione to. Some nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I heard her crying again. And sometimes, it made me cry too because I was hurting about as much as she was inside. Poor Harry, he must’ve been going insane with the two of us sobbing all the time like it was that time of the month.

During the day, we discussed possible hiding places for the sword, and went over our list for the Horcruxes as well, but still we had nothing to go on. Hermione had taken to placing Phineas Nigellus’s portrait on a chair as if to fill the void Ron left. Sometimes Phineas would show up and let small bits of information slip about what was going on at the school. Other than that, he wasn’t much help, and was rather poor company.

With Phineas around, at least Harry knew some of the things Ginny was doing. It made me a little resentful towards him, actually. He knew what was happening to her, but what did I know about George? Nothing, I hadn’t heard a single thing about him or Fred for that matter since we’d gotten Mr. Weasley’s Patronus that the family was safe. That seemed like ages ago. It may have only been a couple months, but the days seemed to drag on into years as we sat here.

It got colder, and we never stayed in one spot too long. We had seen Christmas trees in a few windows of the town we were currently in the outskirts of. Hermione had also been able to get a few good things from the market, so we were in fairly good spirits when Harry brought up the one thing he seemed determined we needed to do.

Hermione was reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard when she called us over to look at something. It was what looked like a triangular eye with the pupil crossed by a vertical line. Neither of us could decipher it any better than she. Although, Harry claimed Victor Krum had said it was Grindelwald’s mark. Hermione continued to examine the mark.

“Hermione?” Harry asked cautiously.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking. I – I want to go to Godric’s Hollow.”

He’d expressed this before. I was neutral about it because it could truly go either way. There really could be something hidden there, as Harry said, or Voldemort could’ve set a trap there, as Hermione said.

I was waiting for her to argue, but was surprised when she said “Yes. Yes, I’ve been wondering that too. I really think we’ll have to.”

I looked at Harry. He seemed as confused as I was.

“Did you hear me right?” he asked.

“Of course I did. You want to go to Godric’s Hollow. I agree. I think we should. I mean, I can’t think of anywhere else it could be either. It’ll be dangerous, but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems it’s there.”

“Er – what’s there?”

“Well, the sword, Harry! Dumbledore must have known you’d want to go back there, and I mean, Godric’s Hollow is Godric Gryffindor’s birthplace – “

Now, I was on the same page, but Harry still looked confused.

“Really? Gryffindor came from Godric’s Hollow?”

“Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?”

“Erm,” he smiled. “I might’ve opened it, you know, when I bought it…just the once…”

I laughed. It felt good to laugh again, it felt like I hadn’t in centuries.

“Well, as the village is named after him I’d have though you might have made the connection,” she said, sounding much more like her old self.

She went on to read some of the history of Godric’s Hollow, then Harry brought up that Bathilda Bagshot still lived there, and Hermione thought maybe Dumbledore had entrusted the sword to her. It was a long shot, but it felt good to have a plan again. Something to do besides go over the same lists and notes for the millionth time.

A week later was when Hermione finally dubbed us ready to go to the Hollow.

We took Polyjuice potion in the late afternoon. Harry was a middle-aged Muggle man, Hermione was his small, mousy wife, and I was their even smaller, raven-haired daughter. Perhaps Hermione should have been the daughter, I thought, as I had to shrink a great many inches. We Apparted under the Invisibility Cloak to the town after nightfall, with darkness to conceal us more. The village was so quaint, with all the Christmas decorations and the snow falling peacefully on the houses.

“All this snow!” whispered Hermione. “Why didn’t we think of snow? After all our precautions, we’ll leave prints! We’ll just have to get rid of them – you go in front, I’ll do it – “

“Let’s take off the Cloak,” said Harry.

Hermione looked frightened.

“Oh, come on, we don’t look like us and there’s no one around.”

I was relieved to get rid of the Cloak and just walk without worrying about our prints or anything else. The village seemed almost magical right now. Ironic, right? A village where wizards lived, magical? Anyways, we walked towards the center of town and saw a small church. It was brightly lit and there was music coming from inside. I think it’s…

“I think it’s Christmas Eve!” said Hermione.

“Is it?” asked Harry.

We had all lost track of the days, they had worn on forever, and we hadn’t seen a newspaper for weeks.

“I’m sure it is. They…they’ll be in there, won’t they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard behind it.”

We started towards the church, each of us taking one of Harry’s hands. He seemed nervous, I wondered now if he felt ready even after begging to come.

“Harry, look!” Hermione said, pointing to the war memorial in the middle of town.

As we passed it, it had changed to a statue of three people. A man who looked much like Harry, the same unruly hair and glasses, a woman with the kindest, pretty face, and a baby boy in his mother’s arms.

We stared up at the statue. The baby Harry had no scar yet. It made me more hopeful to see how the people who had lived here, or perhaps still lived here, honored Harry and his family.

“C’mon,” Harry said, pulling us toward the back of the church.

We walked through the gate and began searching the rows of tombstones. We came across Dumbledore’s mother and sister, other ancestors of Hogwarts students we knew, one with the same image Hermione had been trying to decipher, and finally, Harry’s parents.

Harry stood there, looking down at his parents’ grave, as we stood on either side of him. Hermione waved her wand and created a wreath of Christmas roses that Harry gently placed on top. Then, we walked back toward the church and the rows of houses where we knew Bathilda Bagshot was still residing.

As we walked down the street, we had this unnerving feeling that someone was watching us. Harry tried to pass it off as an animal, but having a cat stare at you from behind the bushes does not give you the feeling I had now. Harry decided it might be best to use the cloak now.

Then, we saw it. Harry dragged us up to the gate. His house. It looked exactly as it would have the night his parents died, the right side blown apart where the curse backfired. Harry reached out a hand to touch the gate, and when he did, a sign rose up from the ground. It read:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,
Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard
ever to have survived the Killing Curse.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left
in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters
and as a reminder of the violence
that tore apart their family.

All around it there were scribbles that other witches and wizards had left. Some just signed their names, others carved their initials or wrote messages. Some of the newer ones said things like ‘Good luck, Harry, wherever you are,’ and ‘If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you.’

I grinned and looked at Harry who was smiling even bigger than me.

“They shouldn’t have written on the sign!” said Hermione.

I rolled my eyes as Harry said “It’s brilliant. I’m glad they did. I…”

He stopped when we heard muffled footsteps and saw the figure of what looked like an old woman. She hobbled towards us and stopped a couple feet away looking towards us and the house. This woman couldn’t be a Muggle, she was staring straight at a house that should have been invisible to her. But even if she was a witch, she shouldn’t be able to see us under the Cloak. Yet, she raised her hand and beckoned to us.

I gasped quietly and looked at Harry as Hermione said “How does she know?”

He just shook his head. The woman beckoned again.

Finally, he spoke causing both me and Hermione to jump, “Are you Bathilda?”

The woman nodded and beckoned again. We hesitantly began to follow her until we reached a gate. The yard inside was nearly as overgrown as Harry’s old house and as we passed her to walk in, I noticed a horrible smell. Whether it was her or the house, I didn’t know. Harry removed the cloak and she pushed past us into what seemed to be her sitting room.

“Harry, I’m not sure about this,” breathed Hermione.

“Look at the size of her, I think we could overpower her if we had to. Listen, I should have told you, I knew she wasn’t all there, Muriel called her ‘gaga.’”

“Come!” called Bathilda, making me jump.

I noticed Hermione had grabbed Harry’s arm. He led us into the sitting room where Bathilda was going around lighting candles. She didn’t look very stable, I wondered if it was safe for her to do that. Harry took the matches from her and finished lighting the candles.

Bathilda walked up to Harry, peering up at him. She jerked her head towards the hall, then pointed to him, herself, and the ceiling.

“Oh, right…I think she wants me to go upstairs with her.” He said.

“All right, let’s go.”

Hermione and I moved forward a bit, but Bathilda shook her head violently and pointed again to herself and Harry.

“She wants me to go with her, alone.”

“Why?”

“Maybe Dumbledore told her to give the sword to me, and only to me?”

“Do you really think she knows who you are?” I asked, glancing at Bathilda.

“Yes, I think she does.” He said, looking down at her.

They began up the stairs as Hermione and I stood in the middle of the sitting room. This whole thing made me nervous, but I couldn’t quite place the reason. I began pacing, stopping to look at pictures or a stack of books.

“Caroline…look at this,” Hermione called me over.

“What is it?” I looked over her shoulder.

She was holding a book titled The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.

“Ah, Rita Skeeter’s book.”

Hermione pulled a note out of the top of it and read, “’Dear Batty, Thanks for your help. Here’s a copy of the book, hope you like it. You said everything, even if you don’t remember it. Rita.’”

“Do you think there could be something in there to help us?” I asked after a moment.

“I’m not sure…I mean, it’s Rita, but – what was that?”

We’d heard a thud from overhead.

“Harry?” Hermione called.

Nothing.

“We’d better go up,” I said, pulling her with me.

When we opened the door, Harry was on the ground and the giant snake that we knew to be Nagini was slithering across him. Hermione cursed it and it released Harry, who jumped up. The snake dived towards us and we both leaped out of the way. Her deflected curse hit the window and it shattered. Harry tried to dive out of the way of the falling glass. I was behind the bed with Harmione, throwing curses out towards the snake. It got hit and flew up, coiling multiple times before landing.

Suddenly Harry yelled, “He’s coming! Hermione, Caroline, he’s coming!”

The snake seemed to be everywhere, smashing shelves and breaking china. Harry leapt over the bed, grabbing Harmione’s arm. I grabbed her hand as he pulled us back across the bed towards the window. The snake lunged again and Hermione threw another curse at it, but it bounced around the room, exploding the mirror, sending glass towards us. I felt a piece slice my arm right before Harry leapt from the window and Hermione’s scream echoed around us as we twisted in midair, and were once again enveloped in darkness.