Archive of Our Own

Fred watched George from where he was leaning up against the wall, he was ostensibly looking out for their siblings but all the younger lot were outside and Percy hadn’t left his room outside of meals all summer.

George’s face looked grim, he was crouched in the eavesdropping spot they’d discovered when they were 8 and a lot shorter so it was a bit of a squeeze to get into the right position. Downstairs their parents were discussing Harry Potter, a flying car and all the other things they’d told them about in a whisper

“They’re not going to do anything,” George muttered when Fred raised an eyebrow at him, “They’re just going to tell Dumbledore they have some concerns.”

Fred grimaced and rubbed his face. He loved their parents, they were brilliant people who loved their kids more than was probably healthy. But he wasn’t blind to their flaws. Even at only 14, Fred and his twin were more proactive than their dad would ever be. And Mum had the tendency to ignore things she didn’t like or didn’t want to believe.

And they both believed in the power of Headmaster Dumbledore more than was probably reasonable.

They’d told them. Told them about the bars and the cat flap and the locks on the outside of the door.

Told them about the sad little sign they’d found in the cupboard with Harry’s trunk.

George got up with a sigh and contorted himself into a strange position to stretch out his back, his next words came out as more a wheeze, “This spot was easier to use when we were smaller.”

Fred flashed a grin at him and nudged his twin with his shoulder when he settled on the wall next to him, “Wait until you get to my age. Back pain like you wouldn’t believe.”

They grinned at each other for a few seconds before turning back to stare at the stairs.

“We could tell someone else.”

“And watch them ignore it too?”

They both paused for a long moment, Fred biting down the anger that made him want to storm downstairs and force their parents to do something.

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” George finally answered.

The sound of laughter drifted in from the garden and Fred caught a glimpse of a gnome as it was sent rocketing over the fence.

“Maybe even two.”

They had tried. Making light of the whole talking to snakes thing. They figured if they made it sound stupid enough it would be easy enough to laugh it off.

But other students apparently took the whole fear of snakes thing very seriously, even the Slytherins looked unnerved. And Harry had done the very Harry thing of accidentally outing himself in front of most of the student body.

They tried.

Watching Harry’s tiny shoulders bow under the collective whispers of the Hogwart’s student body was driving Fred to consider murder and George was starting to struggle to talk him down.

Everything they did wasn’t enough. People were somehow looking at little Harry Potter and instead of seeing a terrified 12 year old they were seeing the Heir to Slytherin.

They had pranked the worst offenders, mostly making sure the older years were sufficiently afraid to do anything more than talk. They took to following Harry around to make sure none of the whispers circulating turned into something more threatening.

But they were running out of supplies and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as much as they’d convinced most of the students otherwise.

So they’d taken their parent’s usual advice and they’d told someone.

“I’m sure no one actually believes Harry Potter is the Heir of Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall’s severe hairstyle just emphasised the stress lines on her face. She almost always looked tense, especially when talking to them, but at the moment she looked haggard. “It will pass boys, these things do.”

Piles of letters were roughly grouped in haphazard stacks across her office, she had barely spared them a glance when they came into the room. Too busy scribbling a reply of some kind.

She finished what she was writing with a flourish and placed it in a tray on her right. A snap of house elf magic made another bundle of letters appear on top of a teetering mound.

George caught a glimpse of a bottle of scotch poking out from the deputy headmistress’s bottom drawer which together with the large mug in front of the stressed witch explained why they hadn’t been offered the usual cup of tea.

No tin of biscuits in sight.

“Thanks, Professor McGonagall,” he chorused along with his twin. One glance at Fred and they silently turned towards the library. They would have to make up for their lack of supplies with some inventive spellwork.

And their mother said they never studied. Really woman, it took work to be this mischievous.

George would have to keep his twin away from the darker end of the restricted section. Fred had taken an unreasonable dislike to Ernie MacMillan and as much as George agreed that the Hufflepuff deserved to be cursed with something unpleasant he would prefer it was something on the less traumatic end of the scale. The boy was 12.

Fred and George sat on either side of their sobbing sister, grasping her tightly between them and offering as much comfort as they could to their littlest sibling. Her face was still covered with grime and blood, both standing out starkly against her pale skin.

Ron was sat opposite them on another bed, staring blankly into space. He was clutching his broken wand, the side of his face still sluggishly bleeding. The teacher responsible for the damage gibbered nonsensically on a bed at the back. Waiting for a transfer to St Mungos.

Mum was talking to Madame Pomfrey, Percy listening at her side and taking fervent notes of any healing recommendations.

Possession.

Exposure to Dark Magic.

Soul damage.

And they hadn’t noticed.

They’d noticed something, she was quieter than usual, she had flinched when they tried to talk to her and avoided them. They tried to cheer her up, assuming it was just starting a new school and homesickness that made their little sister so different. The petrifications were making everyone nervous and the whole school was frightened whether they admitted it or not.

She was just feeling it more than the rest of the first years because she was the last to leave the Burrow. Maybe she missed Mum more because she was a girl. They’d even written home.

But they hadn’t noticed that someone was literally trying to suck the soul out of their sister. Fred rubbed a hand up and down Ginny’s back, desperately happy that she’d survived. Desperate to reassure her and him that she was still there, within reach, and not buried somewhere under the castle with a giant snake.

None of the teachers had a plan. Dumbledore had been reassuring but noticeably silent on the solutions side. For the greatest wizard alive he wasn’t particularly aware of what was going on in his own school.

Reassurances and muggle sweets weren’t particularly helpful when it came to mounting some kind of rescue.

As time passed and Dumbledore continued to do nothing, Fred started looking around his office with a different motive in mind.

He’d seen the same gleam in George’s eye when he looked at the bowl of yellow candies. They were going to prank the shit out of that.

That had been hours ago.

And now they had Ginny back. Mostly fine and with the dark object destroyed.

They still had Ron even if he was down one wand.

And they still had their plans for Dumbledore’s sweet jar.

He met George’s eyes above their sister's head and there was one more thing he was sure of.

The Weasley family owed Harry Potter everything.

“Dumbledore has it in hand boys, Harry has to go back but he said he’d check in on it. I’m sure Harry will be absolutely fine.”

“Yeah, I wrote to him. He seems fine, said he’s mostly just hanging out in his room. Why do you care anyway?”

George watched Ron and Hermione promise to bring back snacks and stories, regret clear on their faces when they looked at Harry. As soon as they walked away that regret turned to excitement. Chatting about all the places they were going to explore and all the things they were going to try.

George remembered the excitement of his first Hogsmeade visit, he couldn’t really blame them for being excited. But that didn’t stop him from being annoyed at the duo for being so quick to leave their friend behind.

Harry's smile stayed long enough for them to turn the corner, he gave them one final wave before he slumped back into his seat.

Fred was supposably reading a book on Runes but he glanced up at Harry few seconds and the more miserable the boy looked the more his twin’s eyes lingered.

“You know, I think it’s time we expanded our horizons O brother of mine.” George smirked when Fred hummed noncommittally in response, eyes still fixed on Harry, “We have relied on a crutch for too long and I think it is stunting our growth as true mischief makers.”

Fred finally looked over at him, eyes quickly dropping to the worn piece of parchment George was holding.

His eyes widened for a second before George looked meaningfully over at the last third year left in the common room.

Fred blinked at him for a moment, staring at the paper before slowly a smile started to spread over his face. “We have been very repetitive as of late.”

“Peeves is starting to moan.”

“And I don’t think the younger years are properly wary of us anymore.”

“We’ve been positively stagnating,” Fred declared with a pout. “Whatever shall we do oh best of brothers?”

George struck a pose, chest out, back of his hand pressed to his forehead, “We must throw off these shackles my dear brother, they are just holding us back from true greatness.”

Fred smirked and closed his book, “We need to challenge ourselves and it might be time to pass this particular baton on.”

Fred looked cheerful again, Harry had disappeared but would soon also be happy again. George’s work was done.

The rest of the common room looked vaguely terrified which was a bonus.

They grinned at each other for a few moments, before standing simultaneously and heading to follow their favourite saviour as he made his way to mope in some of his favourite moping spots around the castle.

They had their experiments, they would build their own legacy for future pranksters at Hogwarts.

They could pass on the map to someone who needed it more.

“I really feel like one of us should have noticed the whole Scabbers being a dead War Hero/Death Eater thing earlier.”

“At least Ron can’t accuse us of spying on him when we had the map, it’s pretty clear we weren’t paying attention to who he was hanging out with.”

“To be honest I’m not sure I would have noticed even if we did spot it, I’d have just assumed one of his year mates was a Peter. We only started to remember the Seamus fellow's name because of the rum incident and I am still not sure what the other two kids are called.”

--

“I did tell Ron the rat was weird.”

“We even tried to give him that fake spell. Remember? To turn him yellow.”

“Not sure that would have helped with the whole Death Eater thing.”

“No, but it would be pretty embarrassing. Even if you’re used to pretending to be a pet rat suddenly being bright yellow as well has got to hurt somewhere in the dignity right?”

“I suppose that’s true.”

--

“Do you think we should make Ron a rat toy? Just in case he’s missing him?”

“Remember what Mum said, we’re not allowed to do anything to the muggles.”

“I mean, if some sweets should happen to fall out of our pockets and if they for some reason decide to pick them up, we can’t really be blamed for that right?”

“Definitely not, we are just innocent sweet-based potions experimenters who happen to be quite absentminded about where we leave our sweets.”

“They’re clearly not for random consumption, who would eat a sweet they found on the ground-“

“Or in their pockets.”

“-we really can’t be held responsible for other people’s idiocy.”

“Mum needs to get better at loopholes.“

“Or we stop bothering, she’s just going to yell at us anyway.”

“Psst, Fred. George.”

“Yes Harrikins?”

“Are you taking more of those sweets to the World Cup?”

“We can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”

“But yeah, probably. If Mum doesn’t confiscate them.”

“Wanna hide them in my backpack? I figure your Mum is less likely to search me.”

“You, Mr Potter, are a true friend.”

“How much can you fit?”

“I took out my spare shoes so there should be plenty of space.”

Fred narrowed his eyes at his belligerent younger brother. “Don't be silly ickle Ronnikins,” An outsider might think this was a friendly conversation. “You can’t possibly actually believe that.”

But any Weasley would hear the threat.

Ron reddened and sputtered but still glared back at his older brother, “Whatever, like you know anything about it.”

George leaned in to loom over his shoulder and Fred felt a moment of vicious joy when Ron quailed, glancing around unsure and looking for a way out.

“You think that Harry-“ George drawled.

“AKA The boy who lived, and up to this point your best friend-“

“Decided to put aside a lifetime of trying to avoid attention-“

“To enter himself into a tournament that he has expressed no interest in previously-“

“With competitors that are at least 3 years older than him-“ Fred had his questions about Krum, the man was not built like a regular 17-year-old.

“For what?” Fred leaned into Ron’s face, “Just to annoy you? Or do you reckon he’s got a death wish? Because this tournament could kill him.”

“People have died before,” George shrugged, “And it’s not like he needs the money.”

Ron flinched and Fred continued glaring, any attempt at lightheartedness gone. No need to soften that blow, Ron was being an idiot and usually that was fine they’d wait for him to finish, and then laugh at him afterwards, but he was hurting Harry and Harry had enough potential life-ending crap to be thinking about as it was.

But Ron was pulling his stubborn face. The same face he’d pulled when he doubled down on liking the Chudley Canons aged 7 when Charlie had made fun of him for picking the worst team in a family sweepstake.

The same face when they’d tried to convince him to get a new pet when he was 10. They’d even offered to buy him a toad with their pocket money and Ron had insisted that rats were far cooler than toads. And look how that had turned out.

The same face, Fred thought mulishly, he pulled a year later when they caught him in the garage late at night trying to start dad’s car so he could go rescue his best friend from the muggles.

Fred sighed and walked away, George quickly falling into step beside him as they left Ron muttering.

They had bigger priorities at the moment than their brother’s latest fit of stubbornness.

“You know,” mused George, “Our current lack of funds means we won’t be using the lab fully for a while yet.”

Fred scowled at the reminder of the Bagman incident but immediately caught on to his brother's plan, “It would be a shame for the space to go unused.”

They caught up with Harry just as he was ducking out of the library, shoulders up by his ears and a group of glaring Hufflepuffs behind him.

Fred glanced over the group with a wicked grin and several of them flinched, hurrying back down the corridor.

Ernie MacMillan looked terrified when Fred’s eyes settled on him.

Harry looked terrified but for different and far more reasonable reasons.

“Hey Harrikins,” he called out to the twitchy-looking teenager. “Come with us, we’ve got somewhere to show you.”

George almost died of a heart attack when the dragon’s chain broke. And he was going to be having some words with Charlie because his dragon-obsessed brother had explained all of the safety precautions the handling team were taking and the chain breaking had never even been considered a possibility.

They knew Harry’s plan ahead of time.

They’d talked through it in detail and Fred had brought Harry’s broom down from the dorms, shrunken down in his pocket, so Harry wouldn’t be waiting for transport for long.

They had been practising the Accio charm with him for days in their experimentation space, otherwise known as an abandoned classroom on the 6th floor.

Hermione had been quite the taskmaster.

They knew the plan. They knew how good Harry was on a broom but that didn’t stop George’s heart from trying to leap out of his chest when the massive, scaly, fire-breathing dragon leapt into the air and after the tiny speck that was Harry.

He was going to have permanent indentations in his hand from where Fred’s grip had tightened enough to leave the knitted pattern of his favourite gloves embedded in his skin.

Fred heaved the last of the butterbeer crates over the wardline before casting a shrinking charm on the lot and tucking them away in his pockets. This was their last stop before they headed back up to the common room to get started on what was sure to be a spectacular party.

“You know, I bet Bill has some general survival tips, maybe some spells he’d recommend,” he murmured to his brother as they both ducked out of the one-eyed witch passage.

Fred nodded, “We should write to him, maybe he can ask around and see if anyone’s heard anything about the other tasks.” He paused at the top of the final set of stairs, “Charlie’s mate Dora just got into the Aurors, she might have some tips too.”

They had a plan at least. Because bless Harry but if the boy could he would be resolutely pretending none of this was happening.

And George really didn’t think he could survive that kind of heart stoppage again.

They’d just started passing out the first lot of drinks when a familiar head of messy black hair tumbled through the portrait hole, “Harrikins!” George crowed, moving forward to pull the boy upright. Grinning down at him as Fred filled his hands with butterbeer. “Congrats on only being a little bit crispy!”

Fred shared a glance with his brother before they both turned back to stare down at the still-damp Harry Potter. “So let me get this straight, a random house elf turned up-“

“Dobby,” Harry interrupted, “He was the house elf who set the bludger on me in 2nd year, I freed him from the Malfoys.”

“Riiight,” George drawled, “So Dobby, a house elf who has previously tried to kill you-“

“He was only trying to maim or seriously harm, he was trying to protect me from the basilisk,” Harry protested his unreasonably green eyes rounding obscenely as he gazed up at them, “He never wanted to kill me, he promised.”

If Fred had it in him to look that innocent nobody would ever suspect him of anything.

“Right.” Fred rubbed his face and sighed, “So a non-murderous house elf turned up and handed you a handful of green stuff that he said might help, and you just-“ he cut himself off before he could get too hysterical.

“You just ate it?” His twin continued, “No questions asked?”

Harry just nodded, “Yup.”

They both sighed this time.

“What about the bubblehead charm we worked on?” Fred asked, his hands tugging on his own hair with a groan.

“Or the broom and enchanted bottle of air thing we worked out as a backup plan?” George followed up, patting Fred lightly on the arm which Fred didn’t find comforting at all because the friend they were trying to keep alive kept doing things.

Things like telling his competition about the tasks.

Things like eating unknown substances from mysterious house elves.

Harry shrugged up at them helplessly, “I’m sorry, I know we did all that planning but I panicked when I couldn’t find Ron and Hermione.”

Fred wasn’t going to survive the year. He was going to die at the age of 16, from a weird combination of frustration, stress and incredulity.

Harry looked adorable in a suit.

It was particularly funny in contrast to Ron’s horrendous gown.

Their brother should have just accepted the hand-me-down from Bill rather than insisting Mum went shopping for him.

They’d offered to transfigure something but Ron had been possibly, rightly wary.

Harry might have forgiven the idiot but his older brothers had longer memories.

George looked down at the bag of gold Harry had just thrust at him. Fred was still staring at the door Harry had just disappeared through.

He was grateful. Really. But all he could think about was how tired and sad Harry looked. He’d already lost weight and according to Ron, he wasn’t sleeping.

He had bags around his eyes that were starting to look permanent.

And he was heading back to those muggles.

Fred exploded out of his seat with a yell of frustration that George couldn’t muster the energy to echo, too exhausted at just the thought of how Harry must be feeling.

“I think people are going to need a laugh,” Fred mimicked. “I thought he was going to actually ask us to help him out this year but no he’s perfectly happy to head back to those- those-“

“Muggles? Monsters? The shittiest version of a family we’ve ever personally encountered?”

Fred slumped down in the seat next to him, as always his temper was flash in the pan, over almost as soon as it started. George wished his was so easy, he tended to be more resentful and he could feel it bubbling in him now.

“He’s going back Gred, and he’s already so-“ Fred glared up at the ceiling before finally losing the last of his anger and just looking miserable.

George wanted to ruin the muggles who continued to make Harry’s life even more difficult than it had to be. Burn their house down and salt the earth afterwards. Curse them into gibbering wrecks.

Most people thought he was the calm brother and he often was, pulling his twin back from some of his angrier tendencies. But it was Fred who stopped him from going too far after the anger had passed.

He looked back down at the winnings, it would certainly go a long way towards making their joke shop dreams a reality. And as much as Harry was being his usual self-sacrificing self, he was right, if You-Know-Who was back people would need some distractions.

And some of the products they had planned would be more than a distraction, “Do you remember that idea you had for making something that would cause distractions? And that test I did on our Quidditch uniforms to try to make them reflect damage?”

Fred sat up, looking interested, “Yeah, I thought we decided that it was going to cost too much to do proper testing.”

George hefted the bag of gold, “We can still do what our noble investor asked and get the joke shop off the ground but who’s to say that we can’t also make a few things that are a little more… combat-ready.“

Fred’s eyes were already sparkling with excitement, “After the World Cup I had some ideas for some things that would make it very uncomfortable to wear a mask.”

George grinned back at his brother, “Maybe we can do something about the black cloaks as well, I’ve always thought Malfoy Snr would look great in orange.”

Ron was moping and Hermione wasn’t much better, traipsing around Grimmauld Place complaining to anyone that would listen that Headmaster Dumbledore had banned them from telling Harry anything.

Sirius looked close to committing murder and whilst Fred thought the older man was completely wicked Sirius did still have enough of an edge of insanity that the guy finally snapping and taking the whiny duo out with him wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

Fred had listened to Dumbles talk at length about how important it was that they made minimal contact with Harry, how the security of the house and the order depended on it.

The long list of things they couldn’t tell him was growing by the day. Don’t tell him about the order. Not a word about Grimmauld or Sirius. Remember not to tell him about anything you hear around the house.

When that list grew to include not mentioning any of what was happening in the papers at the moment despite that information being both very relevant to Harry and entirely publically available. If you weren’t locked up with muggle relatives that is.

Owl post could be compromised. We can’t risk it.

Honestly, it was like everyone had collectively forgotten that other forms of communication existed.

George pulled the extendable ear loose and nodded towards the window, “He’s alone, Moody just clocked off and Mundungus is late again so we’ll have a gap of a couple of hours.”

Fred grinned at him and snapped his wand into his hand, the novelty of being able to use magic outside of school still hadn’t worn off and he felt a thrill of joy when the box he’d been packing up sealed itself and shrunk down to pocket-sized.

Everyone else hadn’t just forgotten the owl post thing, they’d also forgotten someone else. Fred and George edged their way along the roof and dropped into the alleyway next to the house.

Fred left George to make sure they weren’t leaving an obvious trail and dropped into a crouch, “Dobby,” he whispered.

The house elf appeared with a muted crack, massive eyes staring beseechingly up at Fred, “Is time to go to the great Harry Potter? Twinsies weren’t lying to Dobby?”

“We weren’t lying Dobby, we promise,” He’d become fond of the little creature over the last couple of weeks. It was nice to find someone else who was equally offended that Harry kept being sent back to those nasty muggles.

George crouched next to him and reached out a hand, “We want to go with you Dobby but we have to make sure that no one knows we’re there.”

Donny’s ears twitched anxiously and he looked around theatrically for any listeners, “The twinsies cannot be telling the other wizards that Dobby be telling you this,” he leaned forward until his face was only inches away, this close his large eyes filled Fred’s vision. Earnest. Determined. And only mildly insane. ‘Dobby has put a spell on the muggles.”

Dobby slapped a hand over his mouth and looked around anxiously.

“We promise we won’t tell anyone Dobby,” Fred reassured the little creature, reaching to grasp his other hand.

“They won’t be able to sees you Dobby promises,” the elf swore fervently, a little bit of that crazy bleeding into his eyes.

A year ago that would have concerned Fred. Now he’d met Kreacher and seen the true face of house elf insanity, Dobby’s attachment to mismatched socks and Harry Potter fixation seemed like very small stakes.

They disappeared from the alleyway with a twist and a pop and arrived moments later in a very familiar bedroom.

It had been 3 years and it was the same level of dusty sparse that it had been last time. The bars were still missing Fred noted with some satisfaction.

Fred turned away from his examination of the room to grin at the gaping face of one of his favourite people, “Harrikins! We have so much to tell you.”

George stared grimly down at his Dad who looked much too pale and far too weak to be sat upright.

He was making jokes and trying to avoid the worst of Mum’s fussing and in general behaving very much like Dad always behaved when he was ill.

But that didn’t change the fact that they had almost lost him.

Fred was joking around with him and George mustered a smile when his twin looked over to him.

Would have lost him if not for Harry.

At this point, him and Fred would keep doing everything they could for Harry because he was their friend. They were as invested as they could be in the little trouble magnet’s continued survival.

And he just kept saving them straight back.

George mused that he wasn’t sure he trusted anyone, outside of Fred, as much as he trusted Harry.

No matter what it personally cost the boy saviour of the wizarding world. He would do anything, sacrifice anything, to make sure their family came out alright.

And what could George do but return that loyalty.

Harry was hovering around the edges of the cluster of Weasleys around the hospital bed, he looked sick and terrified and so young.

George shuffled over, carefully ducking away from the focus of the family’s attention until he reached Harry. They were tucked in a corner, closer to the other hospital bed in the room than the vortex of Weasleys.

George only hesitated for a moment but it was long enough that Harry’s shoulders started to curl. That wouldn’t do, he pulled Harry over, ignoring the instinctive flinch at the first touch and wrapped his arms around those shaking shoulders.

“Thanks, mate,” he muttered into Harry’s hair. “Thank you so much. Whatever’s bothering you, we’ll work it out. Together, okay?”

Harry shivered for a moment before collapsing bonelessly into the hug.

“Thanks, George,” he murmured into George’s chest. They stayed like that for a while.

Until both of them stopped shaking.

“Just heard back from Bill.”

“Yeah, he said Occlumency is totally a thing. He had to learn it in order to do high-priority work for the goblins.”

“I don’t know if that’s good news or not.”

“The good news is he sent along a beginners book for Harry. The bad news is Snape is definitely not teaching it the way it’s meant to be taught.”

“Hmm.”

“Yep.”

“We haven’t robbed him in a while.”

“And really, black has never been his colour.”

They’d suspected for a couple of weeks but this was the first time they’d managed to catch him.

Between his infernal cloak and the marauder's map, Harry was infuriatingly difficult to track down when he was trying to hide. And he’d cottoned on that they were looking so he was avoiding all of his usual haunts.

George had been muttering about stealing back the map for a couple of days now, just so they could put a bloody tracking charm on the thing.

Fred just tuned his brother out, staring at the door where Harry was apparently serving detention with the grandtoad herself.

It was past midnight and even Snape had never kept them past ten. No matter how much the dungeon bat wanted to.

The door swung open and the Umbitch was simpering something but Fred couldn’t focus on that, too distracted by the figure stumbling out of her classroom.

Harry looked pale and tired all the time at the moment, but he now looked like he was dying. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises, his face was clammy and unhealthily flushed.

Blood was dripping from his hand.

Fred felt like he might actually explode.

This.

This couldn’t stand.

They would ruin her.

The newspaper over the next couple of weeks was an interesting read for anyone interested in the personal habits of ministry employees.

George would have to thank Hermione for the idea. The ministry was expending all of its pressure to keep the papers publishing smear campaigns on Harry and dear Dumbles. And to suppress the fallout from the Azkaban breakout.

They didn’t have enough capital to also suppress a ministry scandal at the same time.

And Harry wasn’t the only student getting ‘special’ detentions at Hogwarts.

They found a particularly adorable Hufflepuff who’d been caught holding hands with her Ravenclaw boyfriend. All they had to do was give Susan Bones the contact details for Rita Skeeter and nudge Colin Creevey their way.

The photos were beautiful.

Bleeding hands.

Sad-looking students.

Umbridge screaming at some firstyears for playing gobstones.

They followed up with some of the other dirt they’d gathered too.

Her OWL and NEWT scores which showed she definitely shouldn’t be teaching anything, let alone DADA when she hadn’t even passed the OWL.

An OWL examiner’s opinion on DADA lessons that didn’t have a practical element, “Is she trying to make an entire generation completely unable to defend themselves?”

Her detention record from Hogwarts which included several instances of her being caught using dark spells on other students.

Umbridge’s Aunt who had gone to Azkaban for muggle baiting.

Her debts to the goblins. Rumours of corruption whilst she was in the Department of Magical Creature Regulation.

Fred grinned at him and George grinned back. The shrieks of rage coming from the toad’s office were almost as good as when they jinxed all her clothes black and charmed a toad to croak loudly every time she spoke, getting steadily louder each time she tried to dispel it.

He sighed happily. The world may be going to shit but they would always have pranks.

And Harry looked almost cheerful for the first time in months.

It was a good day.

Fred didn’t exactly regret leaving Hogwarts, he and George had outlived anything school could teach them, especially whilst Hogwarts was evening lorded over by the pink toad herself. Her powers may have been curtailed but Dumbledore’s rapid exit and the subsequent manhunt had done a lot to distract the public and it looked like she would live out the year.

So Fred didn’t regret leaving school. They’d taken their NEWTs at the ministry a couple of weeks ago and whilst they were still running their business through mail order with the help of Dobby they’d just found a vacant premises on Diagon that looked like it might be perfect.

Fred didn’t regret getting a head start on the business, they’d already come on leaps and bounds without the time suck of actually having to attend classes. 5 new product lines including protective clothing that could deflect most less powerful curses and jinxes.

But then they heard from the Order that something was happening at the ministry.

That Ron, Harry and Ginny were fighting Death Eaters in the ministry.

And Fred did regret it. Because if he’d been there.

If him and George had been on hand maybe they could have convinced Harry to wait. Just a moment.

To call back up.

To check on Sirius and not trust the word of an insane house elf.

To go in prepared.

They’d quietly sent out Jinx off suits to most of the DA over the last week so hopefully they were at least wearing the right stuff.

But as they frantically rushed through the Atruim, following the rest of the Orde down to the Department of Mysteries Fred couldn’t help but regret everything that meant he and his brother weren’t in the thick of it with their friends.

George sent off one last cutting curse at the Death Eater who was targeting his sister, grim satisfaction sinking in when he could see the cloaked figure’s robes wet with blood.

He’d never been this bloodthirsty before but watching Sirius fall through the veil had broken something in him.

He could see the same frantic need reflected in his brother’s eyes as he sent a skull-enlarging jinx at a Death Eater who was facing off against Kingsley.

They were covering Lupin’s back as he chased after a devastated Harry and an unhinged Bellatrix.

Her cackle as she killed her cousin was still echoing around George’s head, followed by Harry’s devastated scream.

He dodged a dark red spell Dolohov had just sent at his head and froze the floor under the rabidly screaming man. Who just smirked at him until Fred summoned his shoes out from under him and he fell back with a sickening crack.

Blood spread quickly on the ice and George was surprised by how little that bothered him, he just sent tongue swelling curse at Dolohov’s companion who was staring open-mouthed at the too-still body of his friend.

He needed to finish up here so he could go find Harry.

Fred grinned at his brother as he swung through the door of their new flat, "I come bearing the best Indian food Brick Lane can offer us and a bottle of Ogden's finest."

"Glory be to muggle takeaway," George chanted from the kitchen before coming back through to lay out plates on their new coffee table. "One day we will convince Mum to try curry powder but until then we will have to satisfy ourselves with the best in London."

Fred pulled out a couple of still-steaming keema naan and started dishing out the rice, "Did you go over the first month's numbers?"

"Yep, we're looking good. Import costs on the darkness powder were higher than expected but Lee found a promising supplier for doxy eggs so we'll be able to make up some of that on potions costs."

Fred hummed, "Mundungus has turned up some interesting ingredient options."

"We won't be able to sell anything from things he supplies, the ministry was already sniffing around this week wanting to check permits."

Yeah, that had been fun. Fred was glad Lee had volunteered to take care of suppliers because that conversation had been both intense and deeply boring.

"I was thinking we could put some things together for the Order."

George paused mid-poppadom, "You want to commit fully then?"

Fred shrugged. They existed in a weird in-between space at the moment but Diagon was already getting darker and Fred was starting to feel that need to just do something.

Bill and Charlie were already involved.

The less said about Percy the better.

And Ron and Ginny were at Hogwarts. With Harry.

Everyone else was contributing and as much as it made their Mum go into conniptions Fred was ready to step up.

They were working hard on the shop. Working hard on defence stuff for the ministry. Working hard to make things and invent things that might help in this war that seemed to be paused just at the point of boiling over.

He wasn't doing enough.

George stared at him for a moment and Fred was sure that everything was playing over his face.

"Yeah," George said. "Let's do it."

Tonks was still breathless from her screaming match with the late and still loquacious Mrs Black but her voice was upbeat, "Okay, so I know you don't necessarily have the greatest history with authority figures-"

"I don't know what could possibly give you that idea-"

"Was it our recent set of lessons for a certain pink toad?"

"Or our ongoing discussions with a certain bat-like potions master?"

"Or maybe our sterling discipline record?"

"Yes, well," Tonks gave them a raised eyebrow, "Let's consider it all of the above and move on from there."

"Sounds good," they chorused, both delighted when that caused an eye twitch.

"So you'll mostly be reporting to Kingsley and we figured we'd get you started on just keeping an ear out on Diagon, Dung said he might try and pass over some of his more legit contacts and Charlie mentioned you might be good for missions in the future once we've got you trained up-"

"You did tell us to keep an eye out."

"I did."

"And you did say that you needed more information on Travers."

"So we followed him, and he is totally running a brothel down in Knockturn."

"He's WHAT?"

"I'm sorry, you stole Draco Malfoy's hair."

"Well, yeah, he came into the shop."

"And you stole his hair?"

"Forge."

"Yes, Gred."

"Did you send Harry a toilet seat?"

"Yep."

"Right."

"Did he write back?"

"Yeah, he is mostly asking... why?"

"I thought he might miss home."

--

"And he might treasure the thought of his uncle falling into the toilet."

"I can see how that might make him feel better."

"You think? I hope so, I have four more. The muggles keep replacing it."

"We should send him all of them, I've heard from Ginny he's had a rough week."

"Hey Tonks."

"Hello to you too, the sources of my nightmares."

"Aw, thanks-"

"We didn't know you cared."

"Did you do something else that I am going to have to explain to Kingsley?"

"Nope, completely normal week-"

"Sold some fireworks-"

"Invented a new hat-"

"Slipped Goyle some U-No-Poo in his apothecary order-"

"Made some new decoy detonators-"

"Wait, what?"

"Instead of setting off a bell they set off a muggle police siren, we figure it will add another layer of confusion for the purebloods."

"No, not that even if it sounds awesome, you slipped what to Goyle?"

"U-No-Poo, it's a new line."

"...what does it do?"

"Constipation."

"Right."

"Turns everything green as well."

"Naturally."

George wandered over to Harry where he was sitting at the side of the lake. He had tucked himself behind a couple of rocks and he was completely out of sight if you were looking from the castle.

Luckily for George, this wasn't a new hiding place. It was only the 3rd place he checked.

George sat down on a mossy rock a couple of feet away and they sat in silence, watching the gentle shifting of the lake water lapping against the shore.

Dusk was starting to fall and in the distance, George could hear the roar of too many voices echoing down the lawn from the school.

“They asked me to speak at his funeral,” Harry finally spoke into the still night air, “I said no.”

“Okay.”

Harry glanced at him quickly before staring back out over the water.

“You don’t think I should do it?” Harry's voice was tight and George could guess that a lot of people had already offered opinions on Harry’s choice.

“I want you to do what feels best to you,” Harry’s shoulders tensed, “Funerals aren’t for the dead, they’re for the living so do what feels right.”

Harry sighed and the tension finally bled out of him.

“I don’t even want to go,” he finally admitted, voice small and quiet. “He-“ Harry cut himself off and George shuffled closer until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. “He just kept sending me back.”

“Yeah,” George sighed, “Yeah, he did.”

“I’ve been doing 1 on 1 lessons with him this year to learn more about Voldemort so I can kill him,” Harry revealed casually, luckily he was now focused on fiddling with a rock so didn’t notice George’s reflexive flinch. “And he kept showing me these memories of him as a child and growing up in an orphanage in London and Dumbledore would just point out how hard and mean and cruel he was.”

The revelation that You Know Who grew up in a muggle orphanage wasn’t the important thing here so George was going to have to postpone his freak-out.

“I couldn’t help feeling angry that Dumbledore looked at this 11-year-old kid, this kid that had a shitty childhood, and judged him for not being friendly and kind?” Harry’s face was set into a mulish anger that George was familiar with. Harry had never been very good at being angry on his own behalf but clearly, he’d seen something in Baby Voldemort that resonated. George shivered, even saying that name in the privacy of his own mind felt wrong.

“He looked at this kid with another shitty childhood, saw that he was cruel to other kids and stole their stuff and instead of thinking, hey, maybe I should help this kid get out of this terrible environment before this escalates further. No, instead Dumbledore just set fire to the kid's wardrobe, told him he would be punished for stealing at Hogwarts and then left him there.” Words were leaving Harry in a torrent, “Dumbledore did nothing to help. Nothing. And now, he’s gone and I’m meant to kill someone and there’s so much I need to do first and I don’t know where to start and last night might have been the worst night of my life and it was all for absolutely nothing but all I can think about is Dumbledore leaving Tom in that shitty place. He rewatched those memories and thought he was right. Like look here, can’t you see he’s already evil? I saw it even back then, I’m so wise. And I look at those memories and see an adult man leaving another child in a shitty situation and doing fuck all to make it better.”

The chatter from the castle was fading now, doors slamming as the lights around the castle started to switch on sending light glimmering over the lake beneath the steadily darkening sky.

George didn’t know what to say but he didn’t think Harry needed him to say anything.

Part of him wanted to storm back up to the castle and tell Fred so Fred could go ruin a funeral but that would be for him. His rage and anger, not Harry’s.

They sat in silence, Harry’s breathing slowly returning to normal and his fist around the stone in his palm loosening until he dropped it back onto the small beach.

“I’m going to have to leave, Ron and Hermione have offered to come with me.”

George considered that sentence for a moment.

“We would come to if you’d let us,” George stared down at his hands, he would make the offer but he felt like he already knew the response. “Me and Fred, we’ll help you in any way we can, go with you to wherever you need to go.”

“But the shop-“ Harry protested weakly.

“Doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things,” George responded firmly, “We’ve discussed it and Fred agrees. Whatever you need Harry.”

“What if I need you to stay?”

“Then we’ll stay.”

Harry stared at him for a long moment before rushing into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered desperately into George’s chest. “Thank you.”

George just patted Harry’s back and wondered how he was going to convince Fred not to storm straight after Harry as soon as he left.

Ah well, that was future George’s problem.

This George had a Harry to hug.

Fred tapped the muggle microphone Dad had dug up from his shed when they first had this idea. The hollow taps echoed through the strange electric earmuffs muggles used to listen to music.

Lee had a lot more experience with muggle stuff than they did and had set up the actual broadcast station in the attic at the Burrow and George had rigged it so it would all fold up at the tap of a wand if anyone ever came looking.

All it took now was for them to actually start. George was staring down at the loose script they’d written themselves, more a bunch of talking points than a set of instructions.

Fred had already spent a lot of time reading and re-reading the same piece of paper and he was now stuck in that in-between place where he needed to be doing something but simultaneously was overwhelmed with the idea of starting.

He didn’t let himself think about it too much, mentally counted down from 3 and pressed the big red button.

He was speaking before he’d really decided what he was going to say. “Good evening fellow residents of our merry isle of chaos and conniptions, welcome to the first episode of many discussing the trials and tribulations-“

“The nightmares and nuisances-“ George intoned with the energy of a potions salesman, just short of jazz hands.

“And the mishaps and mayhem, currently infecting the place we call home.” Lee finished off with a grin, “I’m River.”

“I’m Rapier,” the familiar rhythm was calming even if what they were saying was very much not.

“-and I’m Tentacular and we’re here to welcome you to Potterwatch. The nation’s only radio show dedicated to the news as it actually happens-“

“-we’re here to talk about the steps you can take to keep yourselves safe in uncertain times-“ Lee interjected.

“-and to tell you a bit more about the man who is currently out there working to save all our lives, Mr Harry Potter.”

They ran through what was being reported and what was actually happening.

They talked about basic warding and how to keep your home protected. Fred walked through a recipe for a basic healing potion and Lee gave a series of tips and tricks for casting a solid protego. “Taught to me by Harry Potter himself!”

They talked about what to do if you were muggleborn, where to access foreign aid and routes out of the country for those most likely to be targeted. How to ask for help. What you’d need to go on the run.

And they talked about Harry. Fred told the story of Harry going to Diagon Alley for the first time, how excited he was to be in the wizarding world, how wonderful it was to see magic for the first time and how desperately 11-year-old Harry wanted to be part of their world.

Lee talked about Harry getting on a broom for the first time, finding something that connected him to his dad, stopping a bully and discovering the joy of flight at the same time. And being bloody brilliant at it.

George.

George talked about the way people talked about Harry’s parents, making them out to be heroes that Harry should look up to and try to emulate. How Harry had never known them, never even seen a picture until he got to Hogwarts.

“I think we all forget that Lily and James Potter weren’t making some strategic move to end a war, they weren’t on a battlefield fighting for what’s right or taking out Death Eaters. That night they were protecting their home. Trying to protect their son.” George pressed a hand over his mouth and Fred wasn’t shocked to see tears pooling in his brother’s eyes.

He had always been the more sensitive one.

When George stumbled to a halt, Fred continued for him, an easy rhythm practised for a lifetime. “When You Know Who killed Lily and James Potter they didn’t even have wands in their hands. They weren’t ready and they didn’t know what to do but they did it anyway, laid down their lives to try and protect their son from the evil that was coming after him in their home.” He paused for a moment, ready to pass it back over but George waved him on, “Lily and James Potter were heroes along with every other witch or wizard who fought against the dark side in the last war, heroes in the way that people are still being heroes out there now fighting Death Eaters and trying to help.” He cleared his throat and blinked back the tears that were threatening in his own eyes, “But the reason Lily and James were heroes the night they died was that they didn’t give up. They did everything they could to protect their son, their future. And they didn’t back down in the face of evil.”

The pause hung in the air for a long moment, dead silence in their little studio.

“And that’s a lesson I think we can all get behind. Not everyone can fight a Death Eater.“

George was smiling slightly again which was a relief, “Although if you can get a good punch in I can personally vouch for it being very satisfying.”

“Definitely,” Fred grinned back at his brother, “We’ll be running through some tips on how to punch properly in our next episode but until then just try to remember to protect what we can and never forget that even the small things can help us fight and win this war.”

Lee grinned at both of them and chirped, “So stay safe and support Harry Potter. This has been the first episode of Potterwatch, thank you for joining us today, the password for the next episode is Lily.”

“In this week's section that we’re now calling ‘Embarrass a Death Eater’ Rapier is here to tell a story about the time Lucius Malfoy got tricked by a 12-year-old Harry Potter into freeing his own house elf.”

“We also have a story from a listener who says she once saw Garrett Goyle trip into a water fountain and another one describing a mortifying first date with Walden McNair.”

“Keep them coming people, this stuff is gold.”

“Today we’ll be doing an extra special episode of myth busting on the figure we like to call Chief Death Eater-“

“-Mr You Know What-”

“-the grand old snake face himself.”

“Because we’ve seen some weird rumours and we want to run through some Potterwatch Verified Facts with our lovely listeners.”

“Fact number one! He Who Must Not Be Named would be better called He Who Doesn’t Have A Nose.”

“Potterwatch hasn’t been able to confirm when or how he lost his snoz but it is missing.”

“Please report it to your local Death Eater if you see it wandering around anywhere.”

“Or don’t.”

“Yeah maybe don’t.”

“Fact number 2! The big bad man in a cloak wasn’t born with the V-Name we cannot say.”

“No mother looked down at their tiny snakey child and decided to name her new son Moldy Shorts.

“Dear listeners, it’s arguably weirder than that.”

“We have it from the mouth of Undesirable number 1 himself-“

“-The mighty Harry Potter, may we always support him.”

"That the noseless wonder himself chose his name when he was 16-"

"-By making an anagram of his real name."

--

"Yep."

"You heard it here first intrepid listeners, the snakiest of lords made up a nickname for himself in the lamest way possible."

"Don't believe us? Get your pens and paper out listeners and write it out with us - Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"That's right, Tom."

"And with the letters in that name, we can all spell-"

"-dramatic pause here guys-"

"I am Lord Voldytorch."

"Not saying the actual name here for a good reason but I reckon we can all spell it."

"I know. It shocked all of us too."

"But that's not even the most shocking thing here fellow witchy and wizardy people."

"Considering the ministry's recent actions against muggleborns and the repeated attacks against muggles across the UK-"

"-You might be forgiven for assuming that Sir Smells of Mort is one of those purebloods that hates everything non-magical-"

"And he definitely does hate our non-magical brethren but that factoid is still only half-true."

"Because whilst Tom Riddle's mother was Merope Gaunt-"

"-Yes, one of those Gaunts-"

"-Tom Riddle's father was Tom Riddle Snr, a rich muggle from the village of Little Hangleton."

"Don't believe us? Ask an older member of our community."

"The worst Tom attended Hogwarts between 1938 and 1945 and he was even Head Boy,"

"Talk about going off the rails."

"That might be all for us this week as we are likely to be headed underground."

"Keep us in your thoughts guys."

"And don't forget, keep safe, do what you can and support Harry Potter. This has been Potter watch, the password for the next session is Marauder.”

The messages came in bursts, the changes to their DA coins running through so quickly they could barely read them. Metal burning hot in their hands as dozens of people tried to send the call out simultaneously.

But they got the message, grabbed their wands, grabbed their supplies and as much body armour as they could carry.

And then they apparated to the Hog’s head.

Harry stumbled through the chaos, dust rising from the falling masonry was illuminated by the flash of spellfire. Cries of pain mixed with unsettling laughter as masked faces swarmed over the rubble at the front entrance.

The courtyard was full of giants and trolls but he could see members of the order ducking in and around the debris sending off spells and pulling people free.

A long, unsettling scream echoed over the battlefield which had Harry turning back towards the castle.

Harry sent off spells, shielding as he went, familiar faces blurring into each other as he ran through the fully pitched battle filling the halls. Calls of his name from both sides sent him darting away, but he sent off curses and jinxes as he went. Doing his best to disrupt everything he could, he pulled out a few of the prototypes the twins had sent him. Including several of the nastier inventions they made specifically to target people wearing masks.

Letting them fall out of his pockets as he ran he left a trail of outraged shouts and muffled screams. According to Ron, the face huggers were inspired by a film Lee had shown them and Harry was endlessly grateful for both muggle entertainment and Weasley ingenuity.

He sent a cutting curse towards a black-robed figure and pulled a girl in a Hufflepuff uniform out of the way of a murky orange spell before continuing his way towards where the fighting seemed to be the thickest, Ron and Hermione hot on his heels.

He burst through a tapestry to find himself interrupting a tense face-off between three very familiar redheads and two cloaked figures, spells flashed across the space scattering over shields and ricocheting into the walls and ceiling of the narrow space.

Fred and George moved as one, slipping around each other and weaving devastating chains of spells together. Harry gaped open-mouthed as they dealt with the Death Eaters, the relief at seeing them alive overtaken by awe at their skill - they had clearly not been waiting around and letting their spell work get rusty. Their wands were whip quick as they finally slipped a spell past their opponent's shield sending both cloaked forms down to the ground.

Percy added his own flourish by leaving the figures bound and summoning their wands.

Harry swore if they made it through this he was going to make sure that the Weasley family got the credit they deserved.

“Hi, Harry!” George greeted them cheerfully, “We’re both still reeling, we’ve just discovered that Percy has a sense of humour.”

“-he made an actual joke-“ Fred interjected with a grin.

“-and now we’ve decided he’s our brother again.”

Harry felt slightly poleaxed but a smiling face was somehow what he needed. When he smiled back it felt like his smile was creaking with disuse. A familiar patter of voices he hadn’t heard in person in months. Lingering over radio broadcasts in a tent, constantly checking for new broadcasts and getting what comfort he could there.

George settled his arm over Harry’s shoulders pulling him in as his twin settled on Harry’s other side. Space happily ceded by Ron who was gaping at his brothers with a similarly open mouth.

“It was a revelation to all of us,” Percy commented dryly wiping his dusty face off on his robe sleeve.

“There he goes again,” Fred looked delighted, “I knew you were a Weasley after-“

The air exploded. They had paused for only a moment, Harry taking a rare snatched second with some of the people who made him feel safest. And suddenly Harry was flying through the air, hoping desperately he could keep hold of his wand. The air was full of screams and surprised shouts, the cymbal-like crash of rock on rock and the blur of colours as Harry and his friends were sent scattering.

When the world made sense again, all Harry could feel was pain. He groaned as he tried to sit up, rubble and darkness and the hot stickiness of blood on his face told him he hadn’t made it out of this unscathed.

He could hear desperate cries around him but one voice stood out, “Fred, Fred!” George’s voice held a desperation that pulled Harry upright, swaying and unsure he stumbled across to where George was frantically pulling debris off his brother. With shaking hands, he helped him shift the final rock revealing a pale and still Fred Weasley.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. “No, no, no, no, no,” he chanted to himself as reached out desperate to disprove what his eyes were telling him, George’s weight suddenly heavy and despondent at his side. A low moan was his only reply.

For a moment Fred’s skin was too cold, too still, too pale and then he took one tremulous breath and Harry felt like he could light the whole world on fire with the incandescent relief burning in his chest. “Fred,” he sobbed, “He’s okay George, he’s okay.”

George rushed forward to cast some basic healing spells over his brother, taking in the readings with anxious eyes before closing his eyes with a sigh. “He’s okay, he’ll be okay.”

Harry pulled him into a hug as Hermione rushed past them with some of her healing supplies ready.

Merlin bless whoever decided to spare Fred.

Looking down at the sturdy body armour hidden beneath George’s robes, the same armour he had on under his own clothes, he had a feeling he should be thanking the twins themselves.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Fred was standing, barely. Determined to meet the next assault at his brothers’ sides even if he’d be less than useless when it came down to actual fighting.

His wand trembled in his hand as he stared at the small dark-haired boy cradled in Hagrid’s arms.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Fred could vaguely hear a low moan, distantly aware that his voice was involuntarily bursting out of him. He grabbed desperately at George’s shoulder. He could feel his brothers shaking as disbelief turned into shattering horror.

A high, cruel voice echoed across the courtyard, “Harry Potter is dead.”

Fred gasped for air like he’d been punched, breaths coming in urgent bursts and his twin gripped him back. Hands tight in bunched fabric as Fred’s legs gave out under him.

There was shouting and someone was saying something that was probably brave and inspiring and Gryffindor but Fred couldn’t look away from Harry.

He looked so small.

Fred was desperate, if this was the end he was going to make sure he made his last look at his friend count.

Harry’s hand twitched.

Fred narrowed his eyes.

Harry’s hand twitched until he was gripping his wand firmly.

Fred’s eyes widened, all other emotions swamped by a swell of extraordinary joy. “George,” he whispered, “George, George, Geor-“

“What?” His twin snapped, glaring over at him with a flash of uncharacteristic rage.

Fred just grinned at him gleefully and pointed at Harry, “Our dear little Harrikins is about to pull off the greatest prank we’ve ever seen.”

“What are you-“

And then there it was.

Beautiful Harry-shaped chaos.

“Harry you wonderful, colossal nightmare in human form. That was the best prank I’ve ever seen.“

“Thanks, Fred!”

“Your timing was impeccable you tricky little bastard.”

“Er, thanks. D’ya think we could talk about this later? Maybe when we aren’t being attacked by trolls?”

“It was just so good. I’m just so proud.”

“George, George, George.”

“What?”

“Mum called Bellatrix a bitch and then killed her.”

“Yes, I know, I was there Fred.”

“Our Mum’s a badass. We should make commemorative badges.”

“Little Molly Weasleys and then when you press on them they say ‘not my daughter, you bitch’?”

“Exactly.”

“We could do a line of tiny Harrys that yell ‘Expelliarmus!’”

“Shirts that say ‘Harry Potter loves you but I think you’re a dickhead’.”

“Whole new product line, Gred.”

“Uh, guys? Do you think you could help clear up?”

Harry lingered around the edge of the forest. The cleanup had started and Harry was desperate to be alone. Ron and Hermione had helped him sneak away to avoid the overwhelming crush of people who were still pouring through the gates. An impromptu Potterwatch broadcast from Lee Thomas over the regular airwaves had left people jubilant. The news that Hogwarts was free but damaged had resulted in a steady stream of witches and wizards who wanted to help.

Harry had taken one look at the first group, which included a predatory-looking Rita Skeeter and had escaped as quickly as he could.

The lingering shake to his hands and the recurring images of a pale and still Colin Creevey. Remus. There were fewer casualties than he had secretly been expecting. But every life lost-

Harry closed his eyes against the memories that were coming thick and fast now the adrenaline had passed. Things he’d run past or ignored whilst in the middle of things now came back to batter against the tattered remains of his resolve.

He tripped over his feet as he stumbled away, the cloak tangling with his legs as he staggered out of sight of the castle and away from the worst of the damage to the grounds. He tugged it off as soon as he got clear and found himself curling in the root bowl of a familiar tree.

The Whomping Willow was looking a little worse for wear and most of its branches were singed and smoking, a hand print embedded in the trunk was large enough to indicate the identity of at least one of its attackers. One branch half-heartedly whacked at him but a light press on a familiar knot settled the willow back to its rest.

Neville would be horrified but Harry figured it couldn’t have happened to a meaner tree.

He cast a warning charm, smiling down at the familiar weight of his holly wand.

He closed his eyes and laid back. Dozing off in the early afternoon light.

When he woke up a couple of hours later it was to the familiar sound of the twins discussing new products for the shop. He was vaguely concerned that several of them included him but not concerned enough to do more than blearily blink at them.

He didn’t know when their presence had become so comforting to him, probably at some point in 4th year when he got used to working around them. They stepped in to help in a way that nobody but Ron and Hermione ever had.

Two people he could always trust to be firmly on his side in a way that not even Ron and Hermione managed all the time.

He had missed them more than anything over the last year, he’d spent as much time reminiscing about afternoons spent in their lab as he had spent missing the food from Hogwarts.

Their voices on the radio had become his lifeline.

Something about their presence now settled an ache in him. When he felt them cuddle close, each of them throwing an arm around him as he settled back into sleep. A smile on his face.