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SIYE Time:20:15 on 28th March 2024
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Requiem For A Practical Joker
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Alternate Universe, Gred & Forge Challenge (2007-6)
Characters:All, All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 13
Summary: ** Winner (tie) of Best Humor in the Greg & Forge Challenge **
It is Harry and Ginny's first Christmas after the final battle. It is George's first Christmas after losing Fred. Ginny is their sister however, and shares their mischeivous blood. Her little project, with all its twists and turns, becomes an fitting present for everyone.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5695



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
I gave Fred the middle name of James after the actor Jim Phelps who portrays him. George's middle name would no doubt be Oliver.




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Requiem For A Practical Joker

By Spenser Hemmingway


“I wish," Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: "but it's too late now.”
–Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol



Fredrick James Weasley was as dead as a doornail. A good number of his friends…his family in fact had seen him go down during that final battle. This must be perfectly understood if anything wonderful is to come of the story Luna and I are about to relate to you here.

I did not personally see him die. Another friend of ours, a Ravenclaw named Brandon, had suffered flash blindness in a duel, and I had to move him to the infirmary. I was of little use in a fight. I had never participated in anything such as Dumbledore’s Army at my first school. I hadn’t even been a student at Hogwarts when Harry organized that group. I was somewhat competent with Muggle first-aid however, and I knew a few rudimentary healing spells. That auspicious day I was pressed into service as…well, essentially a combat medic. I didn’t know who had fallen until we returned to the Great Hall to help.

You don’t need me to describe what that scene was like. Those of us that need to remember it have it etched into our minds. Harry’s Muggle biographer was somewhat accurate in her version of the aftermath, at least in the overall picture she painted for her readers. I would just add that seeing Molly Weasley there with Fred moved me more than anything I could remember. All of his family was gathered about him openly lamenting his end. I will include Harry in that. He was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s seventh son.

I looked over to Harry standing with his arm gently around Ginny, and he gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, and another to Luna and Neville as they joined me. More than a few of us had lost people over the years. It is never an easy thing. We can only imagine how Harry may have reacted if he had been a bit older the night of his parents’ death. My biological mother had died twenty minutes after I was born, and I knew that Luna had been nine years old when she witnessed hers killed in the cauldron accident. She and I had never really talked about it.

Whatever any of us might have felt, whatever any of us might have done, it could never compare to what we were seeing there before us. Molly Weasley kneeling down on the castle’s stone floor, cradling Fred’s body in her arms, weeping uncontrollably, and evoking God and Merlin to bring her son back to us.

I looked over to Harry and Ginny again. I was a bit surprised to see that neither of them was looking down at her mother any longer. Instead, they were intently watching George. I began to do that as well. Harry and Ginny’s expressions spoke of incomprehension as much as they did grief for our collective loss. It took a full minute of studying the older brother then before I noticed what they must have seen. I was seriously taken aback at it. The Weasley sibling wasn’t crying. Instead, what we saw was simply utter numbness…and profound bewilderment.


*****



“You can’t be serious Arthur! It is only three days until Christmas! Freedonia is halfway across Europe! What is Kingsley thinking?”

“He’s thinking that we have a great deal of work left to do Mum. It is absolutely staggering how many of You-Know-Who’s…Voldemort’s followers are still embedded inside the Ministry, as well as some of its counterparts abroad.”

“Percy is entirely correct my dear,” Arthur began. He eyed his son, smiling to himself. It had been the first time Percy had ever used the Dark Lord’s name in front of them. “Even after arresting those openly supporting him, we have had to carefully examine and separate those under, or claiming to have been under, the Imperious Curse. That has become a grave matter after past mistakes.”

Molly stepped across the kitchen and refilled the two coffee cups there at the table. She didn’t like what she was hearing, but still had to admit that they were right, and that the short trip was probably as important as it was necessary. She glanced out the window to see that it was still snowing heavily, and then down at the steaming mugs. The Weasley matriarch was pleased with how it would warm them a bit before they left. As Molly returned the pot to the stove fire, she noticed that Ginny had quietly joined them. The girl was leaning against the kitchen doorjamb and listening intently to the conversation.

“The real dilemma Mum is the bad element that was covertly emplaced during the war,” Percy continued. “Pretenders, imposters, spies, traitors–-it’s much like extracting the fleas off a sleeping mundark with tweezers.”

Ginny abruptly stepped away from the door, and gently closed it. Something was suddenly bothering her…seriously bothering her. More so since she had no conscious idea what it was other than a strong nagging feeling. Moving into the family’s parlor she stopped herself when she saw George standing at the mantle staring into a picture of Fred and himself. It had been taken the year before in front of their store, and the two were alternating back and forth, trying to best the other with their silly faces.

A familiar sight in the Weasley home, George would remain there for sometimes an hour, oblivious to those who might join him in the room. He would always seem to be studying the magical photograph, as if he were searching for something inside it. That look of emptiness and confusion was frozen onto his face now. He hadn’t smiled since the war had ended. Ginny knew that he had no reason to do so. She also realized that her strange feeling had grown in intensity.

Ginny spun about and ran toward the house’s main staircase. Her mind was racing, and she didn’t see Ron and Hermione there in the corridor. She barely missed them as they quickly jumped aside to avoid a collision.

“Crikey Ginny! You’re moving like there’s another basilisk after you!” Ron joked, but checked himself when their eyes met. “Is something wrong?”

“The four of us need to talk. Your room Ron–-it’s the bigger,” she told them.

“The four of us? Is something wrong?” Hermione repeated.

“Harry just Apparated into the yard. He’s come for Christmas, and he’ll meet us upstairs.”

“Oh crum Ginny, it’s just weird how the two of you can get in each other’s heads that way.” Ron gave his sister a big grin to let her know that he meant it as a compliment.

“That’s it! That’s exactly it!” Ginny shouted. She was already taking the steps two at a time.

At Ron’s bedroom door Ginny held up. Ron and Hermione were confused for a moment until Harry suddenly appeared before them. He had Apparated upstairs to avoid the delay which greeting her parents would have brought. They shared a smile and a quick hug before she pulled him inside. No one was surprised when Ginny then applied several common charms to ensure their privacy.

“We need to talk about George,” she finally told them.

“Right. He’s been a complete muddle for months now,” Ron admitted with a solemn nod.

“He hasn’t stepped foot inside the shop since…I don’t know when,” Ginny added. “George owes Spenser for writing to Mr. Fitzgumby asking for his nephew’s help to run the store. I think the toymaker is the only thing keeping it operating now. Jonas Del Cinister and his sons have been trying to put my brothers out of business since they opened their own shop two years ago. I understand that they are continually circling as if it was all some carcass, and I believe they...”

Harry moved closer to Ginny then, and put his arms back around her. Their eyes met, and both Ron and Hermione knew that something was passing between them.

“I remember your father mentioning those men Ginny. They probably were some of Voldemort’s strongest supporters, but no one is entirely sure. You are though, aren’t you Ginny…or about something?” Harry asked her. Neither one of them blinked.

“You wanted to discuss whether there is any way that we can all cheer up George; to help him get over the loss of his twin brother?” Hermione suggested. Ron took her hand, and he gave Ginny his famous grin to tell his sister that they both supported the idea completely.

“Hermione if I’m correct, and I do believe that I am, this will more than lift George’s spirits.” As Ginny began to explain, Ron’s expression first turned to shock, then to severe doubt, but finally to utter amazement at her reasoning, conclusions, and rough plans.

“You really think he’d do that?” Ron stammered.

“She apparently does. Do you know how difficult it’ll be to put all this together?” Harry asked her then.

“We’ll need help. I know that all of George and Fred’s friends would lend a hand if they could,” Ron added, “even if most of them wouldn’t understand. I’ll send an owl to Spenser and Luna when the snow lets up a bit.”

“Seamus is in Ireland with his family, but we can contact Neville as well.” Hermione paused for a moment, suddenly deep in thought. “Ginny, I’ve come to trust feelings such as this one, but…”

“…but you think that we need a bit betterintelligence?” Harry finished. “I have a fantastic idea along those lines if we can convince him to help. I imagine that he doesn’t, or perhaps can’t, get involved in such matters normally. Still, he has the finest information-gathering organization on the planet.”

“Who?” Ron and Hermione asked together.

Ginny’s eyes suddenly went wide went she realized who Harry meant. “Let’s just say that it would be some very welcome assistance from a most unlikely source.”


*****



The message from Hermione came at just the right time. Luna had talked me into spending the holidays with her father, which was nice, but also a bit complicated. The man still wasn’t sure yet whether he liked me or not. My own family back in America was disappointed that I hadn’t brought Luna home to Oregon with me. They were already having to deal with my decision to stay in Great Britain now that I had graduated. It made for an interesting story plotline, but not the one that I wanted.

Anyway, ten minutes after Errol delivered the letter asking for our help, the two of us were packed for a quick journey to the Burrow. Xeno Lovegood met us at the door.

“Luna?” was all the man could say, but his broken voice and faraway look spoke of hurt and perhaps a bit of frustration. His daughter had grown up, and I was stealing her away.

“It will be all right Daddy. Ginny Weasley needs our help. I promise that we’ll be back on Christmas Eve.”

“We’ll bring you a great page one story for The Quibbler as well,” I added.

Two of Xenophilius Lovegood’s greatest strengths were his curiosity and his need to ensure a crusading distribution of the truth. Some might say that they were two serious handicaps the way he pursued both. Regardless, I had just committed us, myself anyway to providing him with something good for his magazine. Of course, if it involved Harry and Ginny, there was an excellent chance that I could fulfill the obligation.

“Daddy, why don’t you sit down and visit with Errol for a bit. He very much enjoys oolong tea.”

“My dear, I am far too busy to be… Is this owl wearing glasses?”

“Yes sir, our friend Hagrid helped us to find them,” I cautiously told him. “They keep him from slamming into buildings…usually.”

“Ah, I see. Well as I was saying, I really am… Those are bifocals, aren’t they?”

“Of course, they are Daddy. He does need to be able to read? He especially enjoys Charles Dickens’ works.”

“Does he? My, my, my. Tell me Errol, what was your opinion of the alternative ending in Great Expectations?” the man asked as he moved to fill the teapot.

“Who, who, hoot, hooty, who!”

“Exactly! I couldn’t agree more!”

Luna took advantage of the distraction to kiss her father, and then move outside. I grabbed our daypacks, and maybe I was twenty seconds behind her. As I quietly closed the door behind me, I saw that she was now halfway across the yard and seemed to be speaking to someone–-carrying on a conversation in fact.

“Luna, aren’t we a bit old to have imaginary friends?”

“He’s actually quite real Spenser, although I wonder now if we’re the imaginary ones. The gentleman very much likes the way that we are interacting with our dialogue.”

“That’s…wonderful Luna.” I had no idea what she was talking about.

I took her hand, and the two of us Disapparated away. As we arrived in the Burrow’s yard, we immediately saw a well-bundled Harry standing there anticipating our arrival as if he knew the exact moment of our Apparation. The letter, while not including specifics, had shouted that it was vital that we hurry. Harry and Ginny knew that we would always come on the run to help them. His waiting out in the cold that way merely confirmed our opinion.

Harry immediately ushered us into the house, clearly as much to get matters started as to warm us up. I was pleased to see that, just as in the Lovegood kitchen, the Weasleys’ had a large kettle of hot water on the stove waiting for us. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were already at the table, and only the briefest of greetings were exchanged before Ginny launched into a series of explanations. With each passing moment, the severity of what must be occurring seemed to grow.

“Luna, Spenser, I want to thank you for coming so quickly. We knew you would be on your way the moment Errol brought our message,” Ginny began, again confirming how well they knew us. “We may speak freely. My father is out of the country, and George went into the village with Mum.” Ginny took a deep breath before continuing. “I believe that a certain merchant in Diagon Alley, a competitor of the twins’ establishment, may have been indirectly involved in my brother Fred’s death.”

“Ginny, I believe that you are rushing matters here. You are making an enormous leap beyond logic to reach the conclusions you have. All of it is simply based upon your feelings. Strong feelings I’ll acknowledge, feelings that I trust completely, but we, and the Ministry as well, will need far more before we can move against the Del Cinisters as you suggest.”

“I completely agree Hermione,” Ginny calmly replied. Her quiet tone seemed to surprise the others. “That is why we need to first accomplish two things in my plan. Luna, you and Ron need to make a quick trip to visit your one uncle–-the gentleman who has such wonderful…information.” Luna smiled in complete understanding, but Ron’s and my confusion made up for it. “At the same time the rest of us need to visit Del Cinisters’ Gift Emporium to view their operation firsthand, and its proprietors as well.”

“Hermione, it’s probably a safe bet that they don’t know either Spenser or you,” Harry continued. “Would you two mind getting married?”

“What?” she, Ron and I shouted together.

“I told Ginny that you would react that way,” Harry said then, almost choking on his laughter. “Consider it a bonus situation for the story that you’ll write Spenser.”

“Uhm, thank you…I think. Now will someone please start over, and provide Luna and me with the rest of the story?”

“Spenser, how well did you do in Potions?” Ginny asked. She then began a ten minute explanation that left me with my jaw hanging open, completely dumbfounded.

“I don’t believe it,” I finally stammered. I looked over to see that Luna was as surprised as I was. It was a rare event.

“That Spenser, is exactly why they think they can get away with it,” Ginny concluded.


*****



“Miss Luna, it’s wonderful to see you again. Although I must admit that your timing could be better.”

“Hello Bernard,” the girl replied, completely ignoring his anxiety at their visit. Ron could completely understand it, all things considered. His mood was an exact match. “I’m afraid I’ll need a few minutes of Uncle Nicholas’ time…that is if it’s convenient.”

“Convenient? It’s less than two days until the boss takes off, and you’re asking me if it’s convenient! You do not want to knock at his office door today, or any time until after the holidays. Then…”

“…then you do it. Please Bernard, it really is important. Ron and I wouldn’t have come all this way if it wasn’t.”

“It’s just that… We don’t want to… How could we possibly…? Oh, oh all right. None of us have been able to resist that look ever since you were a baby. Did you know, young man, that if her parents hadn’t intervened, the lot of us would have set her up with a pet elephant when she was five? Come along now.”

Bernard led the two of them through the enormous complex, and with each step Ron’s apprehension redoubled. The workers they passed all seemed to be curious about the interruption, but deadlines were a strict thing in that factory and they immediately returned to their tasks at hand. Finally, coming to a small door, which belied the importance of the man behind it, Bernard stopped them, reached out to softly knock, and then instantly Disapparated away. Luna seemed both amused and mystified that the elf would react that way. Ron understood why.

After three or four seconds the door swung out, and they both took that to mean they had been invited inside. Luna led the way with Ron literally cowering down behind her.

“Do you think that Father Christmas is still angry about what I did last year Luna?”

“Why would he be Ron? It was Harry you ran over with the reindeer when you tried to ride him. Hello Uncle Nicholas.”

“Luna, this is so wonderful! I’ve been expecting you,” the big man roared, but its complementary laughter immediately put Ron at ease.

“How did he know we were coming?” Ron whispered.

“He’s Santa Claus silly. ‘He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good…’ Ron, he’s aware of exactly what we need to learn, and that is why we came.”

“I’m afraid though that Bernard was right about our tight schedule. I can only give you a couple minutes Luna. I am very sorry.”

“That is quite all right Uncle Nicholas. Can you help us?”

“Well, I can tell you that Ginny is absolutely correct about all of her assumptions. The Del Cinisters will be receiving coal in their stockings this year.” Ron stood up straighter, but he resisted jumping into the air at the news. “That however is all the help that I can provide. I’m sorry Ron. I can see how disappointed you are…”

“That’s putting it mildly sir.”

“…but please let me explain. We are dealing with a cosmic balance here that you may not understand. There are infinite possibilities Ron. Therefore, there are also infinite realities. Those of us who are labeled Immortals are, for the most part, a constant throughout all of them.”

“You’re worried that you’ll somehow change the universe if you interfere too much–-if we learn too much of what you know.” Ron paused and forced calm to wash over his body. “Harry, Spenser, my sister, and I somehow did that once. Maybe Spenser can tell you the story Luna.”

“He already did Ron, and you didn’t create an alternate reality. The gentleman who is writing this story did.”

“You mean Spenser?” Ron asked her, bewilderment replacing his earlier excitement and irritation. Nicholas, he noticed, seemed to understand what she was talking about at least.

“Oh no Ron. This person writes about Spenser writing about all this. He made Harry go back to Hogwarts for his seventh year, and he wouldn’t allow several people to die. He’s introduced a number of original characters as well.”

“I’m more than a bit astonished that you know about The Great Story Writer in the Sky Luna,” Nicholas finally admitted, but there wasn’t any surprise on his face or in his voice.

“Oh yes. His name is Eric and he decided to let me know about all of it…at least for now. He has a little girl named Jennifer who very much likes me and has some wonderful ideas for my characterization. Everyone believes that Eric thinks he is Spenser and puts himself in the stories, but they are nothing alike. What fun would that be? Eric is older than my father and as grumpy as Mr. Moody sometimes. He’s a retired soldier, he’s very good with power tools, and he’s married to a nice mathematics professor. He’s also extremely sentimental sometimes and exceptionally mischievous…just like Fred and George. Eric is going to help us. He has the ending all plotted out in his story outline.”

“Luna, you’ve gone off the deep end this time! There’s no one out there controlling our lives by typing something out on a Muggle keyboard!”

“You really don’t believe Ron?” Nicholas asked, biting the side of his lip to control his laughter. “Could you explain then why you are wearing a short, black, cocktail dress, high heels, a blonde wig, and entirely too much make-up?”


*****



“Well here we are Mrs. Hemmingway.”

“Will you please stop calling me that? Ron is going to be very hurt when he reads this part of your story. Yes, I know that you will write it someday, and undoubtedly it will be just as awful as all your others!” Hermione’s giggle completely contradicted her words though.

We took another minute to study the large shop, and, apart from its meager holiday decorations, it wasn’t at all like the surrounding businesses. Where other stores were clean, properly maintained, and well-stocked, the Emporium was what you might expect to find in Knockturn Alley, not Diagon. Judging from the amount of soot and grime that caked its walls, I pictured the structure collapsing if what was holding it together was ever cleansed away.

After passing through the portal behind The Leaky Cauldron a half-hour before, we had taken our time as we walked, not so much to enjoy the festive Christmas scene as to once again go over this second portion of Ginny’s plan. We knew it by heart, but there are always glitches, and we kept preparing for different contingencies. I could not remember ever seeing Ginny so intense, but Harry’s cooler mood seemed to offer balance. I was really hoping that Luna and Ron would return soon with the information we needed. All at once I had a bad feeling for any number of reasons.

“Remember, we are as much a diversion for each other as we are there to learn anything,” Ginny suddenly said, as if in reply to my musing.

“The best thing that we can come away with is a reaction to what Ginny and I will say to them,” Harry added. He stopped then and pulled her in close to himself. “If you’re right Ginny, then this may be extremely difficult. I’ve already asked everyone else, but I need to hear it from you. Do you understand the dangers involved?”

“Yes…yes, I do, and Gred and Forge are worth it.” Harry smiled back, appreciating her use of the old Weasley nicknames for the twins. “They are still my brothers. They are still my brothers!”

“Christmas is the time for believing,” Harry told her, and then gave Ginny a quick kiss.

I tipped my costume top hat to the both of them, which they may or may not have noticed, and Hermione and I stepped off in the direction of the store. As we entered the building, I noted that it smelled at least as bad as it looked. Hermione’s wrinkled up nose told me she agreed. All of it begged the question about how they expected to stay in business, let alone compete against Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. Perhaps they had a profitable side business.

“May I help you?” a voice behind us suddenly asked. We turned to see an ancient gentleman standing there with greasy clothing and muttonchop sideburns longer than Nicholas’ beard. His teeth were the same color as the side of his building. “Jonas Del Cinister at your service.”

“Thurston Howell the uhm…the fifth of the New York City Howells at yours. My wife Ruelda and I are planning a small Christmas soirée, and we are in need of a number of small party favors and gifts.”

“I see, and what precisely did you have in mind sir?”

“Oh, I don’t know–-something amusing for our guests. I’ll also need a half-dozen of your best high voltage hand buzzers.”

“We have those in stock. Your friends should find them extremely amusing.”

“Actually, those are for Ruelda here my good man. She uses them to keep her beautiful hair so bushy. We will need the variable voltage model. We don’t want too much kink, or for it to become excessively wiry. Ouch dearest! The ribs…please mind the ribs.”

“Your establishment came highly recommended Mr. Del Cinister,” Hermione told him right on cue, and doing an excellent job of keeping any irritation in check.

“Oh really? May I ask by whom?”

“I’m afraid that we didn’t obtain his name. We had just left Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. They had nothing that really caught our eye. Do you know of that store?” I asked this last part in a slow, deliberate voice, and waited for a reaction. We weren’t disappointed.

“I am familiar with it.”

The man’s face was now tense, and he spoke with his jaw clenched. He began to look us over more carefully, no doubt trying to see if he could recognize us, if we were sincere and clearly trying to ascertain what we really wanted. Harry and Ginny came through the door just then, and their timing was excellent. The intensity of the store owner’s disposition skyrocketed. He motioned for a second employee to attend us (I assumed that it was one of his sons), and without another word moved off to meet our friends.

Ruelda Spenser? I thought that we agreed on something more commonplace, such as Emma, Bonnie, or Evanna?”

“This from a girl named Hermione?” I whispered back. It took a moment, but I did get a smile out of her then. She knew we all loved the way her name rolled off the tongue.

“Excuse me young man. Could you please direct me to the loo?”

An elderly lady had approached us, and, for some reason, I felt as if I should know her. Hermione’s eyes told me that she actually did. Unfortunately, we hadn’t been there long enough to know where to send the woman. The younger clerk had finished his task at the counter and was now walking our way.

“If you distract him, I’ll…”

I suddenly understood. We had additional assistance there. Before we could help however, Harry and Ginny did it for us.

“Mr. Harry Potter? This is a great, and a somewhat unexpected, honor. I believe that this is one of the Weasley siblings is it not?”

“It’s a funny thing that you should know that Mr. Del Cinister,” Ginny Pointed out to him. “We’ve never met, and Harry and my family have gone to great lengths to keep my picture from being published anywhere.”

Too late, Jonas caught his mistake, and it caused him to take a step backward. Hermione and I saw that we were running out of time. She nodded to me, and we moved off the way the older woman had. The younger Del Cinister’s eyebrows shot up at this.

“She’s off to use your loo,” I quickly told him, imitating the earlier story. “To begin with, do you carry any green-beaked rubber chickens? I’d like the variety with a Scottish tartan embossed on their tails.”

“Certainly sir. We just received a shipment in this morning. I’ll go and fetch some for you.”

As he moved off, I shook my head in surprise, and then returned my attention to Harry and Ginny. The man before them was beginning to sweat under their sharp gazes, and that was understandable. If Del Cinister had once been a Death Eater, Harry not only was a clear enemy, he was the person who had taken down Voldemort.

“What is it you would like Mr. Potter?”

“Some information Del Cinister. We would like to know how you were involved in the war, in the final battle at Hogwarts, and in at least one death there,” Ginny replied for him. The man stiffened up even more, but then seemed to force himself to be calm.

“You are both gravely mistaken about who I am. I am a simple businessman.”

“My best friend Ron once had to kill another Death Eater who said the exact same thing,” Harry said in a cold, deliberate voice.

“Again, you are both mistaken. Now, our time is Galleons. Either buy something or get out!”

Just then the clerk returned, one hand on Hermione’s arm, the other on the strange woman. They had been caught. Neither could really defend themselves either, not without blowing any semblance of cover we still retained. It probably wasn’t much.

“I’m afraid that we are all out of rubber chickens, sir. They have been recalled by the Chinese company that manufactures them,” the clerk said as he walked the two out the front door and tried to throw them to the ground. Only a couple of blows from the old woman’s umbrella saved them, but it was time to leave.

“I suppose that there is always Wizardmart,” I announced as I followed them out. I avoided eye contact with Harry and Ginny, but I knew they would be right behind us.

Ten minutes later we were at the twins’ store, and five after that they indeed joined us. Their smiles seemed to let on that they thought it had gone well. Retreating to the back office, we were equally pleased to see that Ron and Luna were already there waiting, and even better they had brewed us some good strong tea to help ward off the cold. The woman had taken maybe three sips before the Polyjuice Potion wore off and we had Neville back with us.

“May I change now? I don’t know which hurts more–-these shoes or Gran’s girdle.”

“I’d say the shoes mate,” Ron told him and turning red after he had. No one asked how he knew this, but Luna started giggling. “Now what happens?” he asked, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“Harry and I definitely upset the man with our accusations.”

“So did Hermione and I, and we just mentioned that we had been inside the joke shop here first. What did you find backstage with Neville?”

“We saw something very strange,” Hermione began. “I realize that the joke business is somewhat lucrative, but the vault door there was more in keeping with what one might expect in a gold depository. I’m afraid that we didn’t have much of an opportunity to examine it, but…well, what does that say to all of you?”

The room was quiet for a full minute before Harry final spoke.

“It says that we have perhaps another day to plan stage three before we go back, and this time it won’t be a pleasant visit.”

“I’ve got break into their shop? We do, I mean? Couldn’t we just call in the Aurors now?” Neville asked, rejoining us in much more appropriate clothing.

“Neville, we still don’t have any hard evidence,” Ginny explained.

“Well, Father Christmas did confirm everything Ginny suspected,” Ron said then. Ginny almost flew across the room to hug her brother. “Oh, hadn’t I mentioned that before? Well, he’s perfectly reliable, but there are probably more than a few people at the Ministry who don’t actually believe in him anymore. Does someone know a good safecracker? It sounds as if we could use one.”

“After all the trouble we ran into breaking into Gringotts Bank, I would say so,” Ginny admitted, deep in thought.

“I believe that I can handle that,” Luna told the group, and for some reason there wasn’t a doubt in my mind.


*****



It was just after midnight, in the early morning hours of what would later be Christmas Eve. The snow was again falling heavily, and this did a great deal to muffle our approach, and then to cover our tracks. Even with the war over, we had discovered that there were a number of anti-Apparation wards still in place in Diagon Alley, and there always had been restricting magic on broom flights there. It was probably a serious concern that Muggle London might see a Wizard shoot up out of the place someday. If matters went south on us, we were all on foot.

Harry and Ginny led our way up the alley behind Del Cinisters’ Gift Emporium, with Ron, Luna, and me close behind. Hermione and Neville had been asked to hold back as our reserve, and to run for the Aurors if we found a shred of hard evidence to show them. Ron regretted not being with her, but Hermione completely understood his need to have retribution on those who had done this to his family.

The atmosphere was actually more lighthearted than it was somber, and, as always, Luna was in the best of moods under pressure. At the back door, Harry raised a hand to stop us, and we all separated and spread out for mutual protection. Harry gave Ginny a quick hug, as had become his habit before such things, and waved Luna over to join them.

“The lock here looks fairly simple, but there may be some sort of internal warning device or alarm,” Harry told her.

“There isn’t one,” Luna replied. “Yes Harry, I am certain. Alohamora.”

Despite her words, Harry jumped when she threw open the shop’s back door. He seemed a bit irritated when she simply walked inside. We followed closely, relying on the illumination from a street lamp through the windows instead the potential warning from a Lumos Spell. Without ever having been in the store, the girl walked straight to the storeroom and then to the vault located therein. Gently touching it, Luna began a close examination of the elaborate locking mechanism. Having established that we were most likely alone in the building, the rest of us joined her there.

“Luna, where exactly did you learn to open safes such as this one?” Ginny quietly asked.

“I’m sorry. I never have.”

“What?” Harry and Ginny said together, more loudly than either apparently wanted.

“Eric, could you insert a brief plot twist to explain how I open this door, or perhaps you could just do it for us in this story?” Luna softly called out. Everyone except for Ron was at a loss as to what she was trying to do.

“Would you believe that she’s talking to The Great Story Writer in the Sky? Supposedly he’s orchestrating all of this before Spenser has a chance to jot it down. Trust her and believe all of it. The gent is another crazy American, he has an evil sense of humor, and you might end up with green fur and moose antlers.”

“Ron, we…”

Before Harry could finish, we saw that Luna was indeed pulling open the vault door. However it had happened, I decided that it was much too anticlimactic for one of Harry and Ginny’s stories. Everyone in fact looked a bit disappointed. It had been too easy. At least we felt that way until I had to tackle Luna and pull her out of the way of the seven-foot-high purple monsters that were now pouring out that entryway.

“Ah, this is much more like it!” Harry shouted as he drew his wand and charged forward with Ginny by his side.


*****



It was late afternoon at the Burrow. The sun had been down for over an hour, and Molly Weasley was working feverishly to keep dinner warm for her family. Neither she nor her husband had seen any of the children apart from George since the previous day. That one son had refused to leave his place on the sofa from the time he first sat down there that morning. He neither ate nor drank, and both Molly and Arthur had noted how much weight George had lost over the past few months. For hours, they had walked the circuit between checking on him, the hams that were in the oven, and the back door for any sign of the others’ return.

Molly was at the end of her strength, but she could not afford to give into her grief for her family’s sake. It was her first Christmas without Fred. It was George’s as well, and, in a way, she knew that it would be hardest for him. Their whole lives they had never really been apart the way they were now. If only there was some way to cheer the boy up. They were running the risk of George succumbing to his terrible anguish.

“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!” someone suddenly yelled, running through the kitchen, out the back door, and actually tearing one of its hinges loose. It was George they saw.

A heartbeat later they heard a series of cracks from Apparations, and as the Weasley parents emerged from the house they saw that it was Harry, Ginny, and the rest of us. We were sore, filthy, bloody, and Ron had an arm in a sling, but we were still able to get out of the way to avoid that redheaded juggernaut as he tackled the last of our group. Molly and Arthur Weasley finally ran up close enough to see what was happening, and the man had to grab his wife with both hands to support her.

“Oh my… Fred!” she screamed.

The reunited twins rolled around there on the ground for perhaps another minute before they noticed their mother’s crying. They might place a whoopee cushion under her toilet seat the next morning, but just then they realized the need to go to her. If I was a schmaltzy old sap, I might do justice to that embrace, but let’s just say that it was as powerful a moment as his supposed death scene had once been. After several minutes, Arthur was the first to break away from the collective embrace to ask the question that we were all expecting.

“How Dad? Fred simply never died,” Ginny explained. “It was all a horrible Death Eater plot gone badly. During the final months of the war, Jonas Del Cinister and his sons recruited a number of associates, educated them well enough to pass scrutiny as our friends and family, and, using Polyjuice Potion, substituted them.”

Polyjuice Potion requires a living subject’s hair if you are to continue to duplicate them,” Harry continued. “They were kept prisoners in the Gift Emporium, just as Barty Crouch Junior held Alastor Moody that one year.”

“Fred’s substitute was killed though. Why?” Arthur asked.

“These aren’t the brightest of people Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said. Even after summoning help, she had arrived back at the Emporium in time to receive a very black eye during our little fight. “From what we have been able to learn so far, the Del Cinisters never properly informed the other Death Eaters. Voldemort’s followers killed their own people while the latter were under the influence of the Polyjuice Potion, and they somehow remained in those forms in death. Fred and the others whose duplicates had been killed simply reverted to being potential hostages.”

The twins stepped away from their mother finally, and each in turn gave their little sister a long hug. It was a classic feel good moment.

“How did you know I was alive Ginny?”

“That was the easy part. George never cried; he simply seemed puzzled about the whole thing. If something were ever to happen to Harry, even if we were a world apart, I would know it and feel it, and it would come close to killing me. You have a similar connection between the two of you, and that was their mistake. If you hadn’t been separated during the fight and the faux Fred killed, you would have instantly known it wasn’t him. As it was, the real Fred was held in a chamber where such magic was dampened. You somehow knew he hadn’t died, but the connection had still been severed for the first time in your lives.”

“The rest was just proving it and getting all of you out of there,” Ron finished for her. “Dad, I think that you’re going to find a lot of the Ministry’s work tied up for you when you go back in next week. Well Fred…George, if she hasn’t had time to shop for you, does Ginny’s little project count as your Christmas presents?”

“Birthdays as well…”

“and we’ll toss in Valentine’s Day,”

“perhaps Groundhog Day and Easter,”

“lest we forget, the feast day of Saint Ozymandias.”

“We can credit this toward future years Ginny.”

“We really can’t thank you enough little sister.”

“You actually helped Fred pull off the perfect joke,”

“and the ultimate prank.”

Ginny cuddled closer to Harry in the yard there and didn’t object a bit when he put his arm around her again. She was in an excellent mood, and she knew everyone else was feeling the same way. A few things were missing though.

“Eric, if you would be so kind?” Ginny softly asked the night sky.

Out in the great beyond, on a laptop computer screen, a new paragraph was started. The group’s scrapes and cuts were suddenly gone. Ron’s arm was mended, and Hermione’s eye was no longer black or swollen. Fred and George didn’t notice that they were now wearing complete baseball uniforms–-the Minnesota Twins naturally. I touched the brim of the new cap on my head then and knew instinctively that it was from my own Seattle Mariners. Everyone else had been given traditional red and white Santa hats.

In the distance, the Burrow was decorated from the foundation to the weather vane in colorful Christmas lights. It was no longer as cold, but it did begin to snow again. It wasn’t the heavy fall as we had been seeing of late, but rather a light magical dusting. It was the perfect touch, and just right for a story’s closing Christmas kiss. At least Harry and Ginny seemed to think so.

Mischief managed!
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