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All the Difference in the World | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Twin Travel Challenge (2008-3) Characters:None Genres: Angst, Comedy Warnings: Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 20 Summary: Perhaps I’d been expecting to see Bellatrix Lestrange and a bunch of Death Eaters standing there with evil grins and wands aloft. Maybe I’d thought I’d see Sirius and Tonks standing there, dressed in Halloween attire, laughing their heads off at our stupidity. But I certainly did not expect to see two actual children--and definitely not ones who looked like mineratures of my little sister and Harry Potter. Hitcount: Story Total: 7448 Disclaimer: Not mine. I swear. Author's Notes: Many thanks for Tara, my PI beta, for proofreading this. |
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All the Difference in the World By GinnyP0tter Fred “And then, Fred here told me to just throw the boggle puss into the pot and we’d see what happened.” “Alas, a horrible mistake,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “But obviously boggle puss was the wrong ingredient because it exploded on me.” George was acting the event out, and at this point he threw his hands in the air. I ducked just in time. “And then suddenly I started shrinking, and the first thing I thought was, Katie Bell will never go out with me again if I’m only a little taller than Flitwick . . .” Mum was scowling, arms crossed firmly over her chest. Across the room, Harry Potter grinned at Ron, who snickered before quickly disguising it as a cough. Hermione Granger looked as if she was trying very hard to hide a half smile and failing miserably. Ginny, on the other hand, was laughing openly, looking more relaxed than she had for weeks. The return of Lord Voldemort had taken its toll on everyone, especially my family. But at last, we’d all been able to return to the Burrow for the final month of summer holidays, where Bill and Charlie had joined us. Work for the Order continued, but at a less rushed pace. “Katie Bell will never go out with you again anyway, not after ditching her in the middle of Hogsmeade to help Lee slip that love potion to McGonagall last term,” said Ron, grinning widely. George scowled at him while I tried to make up my mind whether to side with my twin, or to have a good laugh, as everyone else was doing. “Boys! You pranked a teacher?” Mrs. Weasley began, but before she could continue . . . Crack! “What the bloody hell was that?” Ron exclaimed a bit shakily, jumping to his feet. George and I were already up, wands out, as well as Charlie, Bill, and Dad. Mum didn’t even bother to correct Ron’s swearing, so Hermione took the task upon herself. “Ronald, language!” But her words were drowned out by two voices. Arguing. Two childish voices, having an intensely heated row on the opposite side of the kitchen door. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when Mum finds out . . .” “It’s not my fault!” A tearful sob. “You were the one who dared me to pick that thing up . . .” “Dad’ll make you stay in your room for a week, and I’ll bet he won’t even let you play with Rose and Hugo!” The sobs grew louder. Dad slowly but surely inched toward the door, wand held in front of him. Then, he quickly threw the door open. Perhaps I’d been expecting to see Bellatrix Lestrange and a bunch of Death Eaters standing there with evil grins and wands ready. Maybe I’d thought I’d see Sirius and Tonks standing there, dressed in Halloween attire, laughing their heads off at our stupidity. But I certainly did not expect to see two actual children, standing in our sitting room, involved in an intense argument. The boy, who looked to be about seven or eight, had his arms crossed and was smiling smugly at the girl, whose face was stained with tears. But that wasn’t even the most remarkable thing about them. The most remarkable thing was that the girl could have been a clone of my little sister. Straight, shiny, shoulder-length red hair, accented by a green bow on her head, that very same nose, and a spattering of freckles over her nose clearly identified her as a Weasley. Even more surprising, the tiny boy was a miniature replica of Harry Potter himself, with a dash of untameable black hair and tiny round glasses teetering on the edge of his nose. Before any of us had the slightest chance to react, though, the tiny girl looked up and cried, “Grandpa!” And then, she ran straight at . . . Dad? Now, I might not be the brightest bloke at Hogwarts, but I do think I’d know if one of my brothers had become a father. None of us are married, after all. Unless one of us had accidentally knocked a girl up . . . but I seriously couldn’t see any of us being so careless, even though Bill and Charlie have gone through enough girlfriends in the last six or seven years. And George and I have been pretty popular among the older students at Hogwarts ever since we joined the Quidditch Team and grew up enough to stop pranking every girl that we met. . . Enough of that particular line of thought. Dad, of course, looked just about as shocked as I felt. “Grandpa, I didn’t mean to . . .” the tiny girl wailed, latching onto his pant leg and burying her face in the material. “It’s not my fault,” the little boy said to Dad, jutting his bottom lip out stubbornly. “She was the one stupid enough to pick up the golden thingy.” I was shoved to one side as Mum barrelled past, then screeched to a stop in front of the two kids. “Good Merlin,” she breathed, taking in the sight. She then began to back up very, very slowly. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had joined the mix. Bill, Charlie, and I stepped back a little to let them see what the fuss was about, and as expected, their jaws dropped appropriately. But what happened next definitely fell into the “unexpected” category. Just as I was about to grab my twin brother and suggest we Apparate to St. Mungo’s and check ourselves into the “Severely Delusional Wing” in search of a Head Healer, the tiny boy caught sight of Harry. “DAD!” he cried, and launched himself at Harry, who staggered back a step at the weight. “Dad, it’s not my fault, I didn’t tell Lily to touch the golden ball, I swear . . .” But Harry was just standing there, mouth hanging open like a dead fish as he stared uncomprehendingly at the child clinging to his legs as if the boy were a creature from outer space. The boy took a step back uncertainly. “Dad?” But then he caught sight of Ginny and immediately turned to her, uttering the one word that sent our already shaken world spinning out of control. “Mum?” Hermione My head was reeling. I could hardly wrap my mind around what had just occurred, but it had to be true–the children had been able to get through the wards, so they were clearly not Death Eaters. So far, I was the only person to notice the golden globe lying forgotten at their feet. And the boy . . . he had Harry’s hair and Ginny’s eyes, while the girl looked more like Ginny, but with Harry’s brilliant green eyes. They must be twins, or at least very close in age. The girl was named Lily, and they’d immediately identified Mr. Weasley as their grandfather and Harry and Ginny as their parents. Was this even possible? I pulled my mind back to the present. Poor Harry was just standing there dumbly, jaw slack as his hands dangled uselessly at his side. He looked the same way I felt. Ginny, on the other hand, had pushed her shock aside; apparently she’d inherited quite a bit from her mother, because instantly she took control of the situation. “Mum, I didn’t mean to,” the girl wailed, letting go of Mr. Weasley’s leg and dashing to Ginny. “James made me do it!” Ginny caught the child, hugging her gently. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.” She glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at Harry. “Let’s get back into the kitchen, okay?” she said quietly. “I’m sure we have a lot of things to sort out.” I was incredibly impressed at how level-headed she was being. I mean, honestly, if a bushy-haired red-head had showed up in the living room claiming to be Ron’s and my child, I would be freaking out right now . . . Hang it all, why on earth did I say Ron? I don’t even like him. In the kitchen, I seated myself next to George, across from where Ginny now had two children surrounding her. Lily was still crying, but James was standing next to Ginny, peering curiously at everyone in the room. “You lot look different,” he said suspiciously. “Grandpa, what happened to your grey hair? And Uncle Bill’s face is different, and Uncle Charlie doesn’t have his beard!” “Okay, you two, tell me exactly what happened,” Ginny said sternly, turning James to face her. Now she was definitely channelling Mrs. Weasley. I just wished Harry could get his act together too. He was scaring the children–they kept throwing nervous glances at him. But then again, learning that you’re going to marry a girl you’ve never before had feelings for and procreate would take quite a while to digest. I did feel a bit sorry for the poor bloke. And happy for Ginny, all at the same time. They would make a good match–I’d known that ever since Harry had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets, but good friend as I was, I’d never dream of speaking my mind. Lily’s bottom lip trembled. “You and Dad went out for lunch, remember? And we were staying with Grandma and Grandpa, but we weren’t supposed to go in the study. James made me go in–” “I did not!” the black-haired boy interrupted. “I just suggested it–” “You dared me!” “What happened in the study?” asked Ginny patiently. “Well, Aunt Hermione had left her bag in there and I know I wasn’t supposed to look through it, but he dared me, Mum, cause Aunt Hermione works at the Department of Mysteries and sometimes she brings home the coolest stuff. And then I found the golden ball and James grabbed it from me and started fiddling with the buttons and levers and when I tried to get it back he shoved me . . .” Ah. So I worked in the Department of Mysteries in the future? I’d always secretly dreamed of it, but had always feared ridicule from Ron and Harry–well, okay, just Ron–if I ever mentioned it. This complicated things. Who knew what that ball could be if it really did come from the Department? And how on earth would we get the children back to their own time if no one in our time knew how to operate it? “DID NOT–” James began, but Ginny clapped a hand over his mouth. “And then the room began to spin and we were here, and everything is different.” Lily frowned. “Mum, what happened to your hair?” “Wait,” I said, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were instantly on me. “Exactly what levers did you push?” I held up the golden globe I’d picked up in the mad scramble to get everyone back into the kitchen. Lily scooted off Ginny’s lap and ran to hug me. “Aunt Hermione, I’m so sorry,” she began, but I waved her apology away, lifting her up onto my lap. “James Potter, which lever did you push?” He shrank under my stare, and I immediately regretted being so harsh. Slowly, he sidled over to me and examined the ball. “I can’t remember,” he finally said, looking so miserable and flustered that I knew in an instant that this was undoubtedly Harry’s son. It was the exact look that Harry got when he was about to go blaming himself for everyone’s troubles again. I sighed. “It’s okay, James, just remember next time that you need to ask first before touching anything of mine, especially stuff that I bring home from work . . .” He frowned. “But what did you do with your hair?” I exchanged glances with Ginny. She seemed to be the only other rational person in the room. Ron was still gaping at the children, his mouth moving though nothing was coming out. Harry looked pale–rightly so, as the six Weasley sons would never forgive him for knocking up his future wife; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be shocked into silence, along with their four older sons. “And why are Dad’s glasses all wrong?” said Lily, peering anxiously at her future father. “They’re round and ugly, not square . . .” Somehow, that comment broke the ice. Fred and George laughed rancorously. “Yeah, Harry,” said George. “You really need to do something about those ugly glasses . . .” “Shut it, you two,” Harry muttered. “But Aunt Hermione . . .” James began, and suddenly both Fred and George looked elated. "You know what this means," said Fred, his eyes alight. "If the twins think Hermione's their aunt, then . . ." "Then she must have married our little Ronnikins here!" finished George. Ron turned a dozen shades of red and began to sputter incoherently, as I tried not to show my mortification. Where on earth had they gotten that idea? I could be called an aunt without any direct relation to the family, couldn’t I? Oh, Merlin, let that be the case . . . "Or," said Ginny coolly, "Hermione might have gotten hit in the head and married one of you two. Then she'd still be their aunt." Fred and George immediately lost their satisfied smirks, and I sent Ginny a grateful look before turning back to the children. “But of course, you’re married to Uncle Ron,” Lily whispered loudly to me–fortunately no one else heard–and my heart dropped again. Or maybe it jumped. Oh, god, my face was turning bright red and I wanted to dig myself into the floor . . . “I think some refreshments are in order,” said Mrs. Weasley quickly, and she scurried to the cupboards to extract goodies for the children. Bill and Charlie leaned over to talk to their father, and Ron whispered something in Harry’s ear, who shook his head violently. Ron looked pleased. Ginny sent them both a glare–the first time, I noticed, that she’d looked at Harry since the time travellers had arrived. But James was staring at the twins as if he’d only just noticed them, a wide-eyed, shocked look on his face. “Lily, look,” he said, pointing to Fred, and immediately her eyes widened too. “There’s . . . there’s two of you!” she said softly, shrinking back a little. “Uncle George, did you clone yourself?” Confusion flashed on the twins’ faces, and I figured they didn’t know what cloning was. But before either could reply, James snorted. “Of course, not, silly, you know how Grandma gets when she sees those old photos.” He peered up at Fred. “Uncle George, what happened to your ears?” George automatically reached up to feel for his ears, then sent me a confused glance. “I’m Fred,” said Fred. “You can’t be Fred,” Lily insisted, scowling. “Mum always says that Uncle Fred is in that happy place with Dad’s parents . . .” And suddenly, in blinding clarity, I understood. In their time, Fred was–dead. I felt as if I’d been socked in the stomach; I couldn’t breathe, my head was spinning, and what’s worse, the others in the room were starting to pay attention to what was going on in our corner. The twins were staring disbelievingly at the children. “That can’t be right,” George began, before I silenced him with a look. Suddenly, it was all clear what I had to do. I must at all costs keep the rest from finding out the truth–that if these children really were from the future, Fred had only a few short years left to live. It was vital that the timeline remain unchanged. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief second before pulling myself together. “Fred, George, hallway, right now,” I hissed, and amazingly, they obeyed. I turned back to the children. “Lily, James,” I said in a low voice so the others couldn’t hear. “You must not tell anyone else that Fred isn’t alive, alright? No one, not even your mum and dad. You have to act like everything is normal. You can do that, right?” Amazingly, they both nodded, and I shooed them over to Ginny who threw me a confused glance before gathering the children in her arms. Stiffly, I lifted myself to my feet and marched to the door, hating what I was about to do, feeling the weight of the news I bore crushing down upon me. I slid into the hallway, shaking and unsteady. Fred and George were waiting for me, arms crossed over their chests. “What is it?” they demanded. I took a deep breath. “We need to talk.” George I exchanged a glance with my twin brother. I had never, ever seen Hermione Granger look this way before. Sure, I hadn’t seen that much of her anyway–she was my little brother’s friend, not mine–but still, she was always so composed and together that it completely unnerved me to see her standing there, pale-faced and trembling. “What the hell is wrong?” said Fred angrily. “D-Did you h-hear what the children said?” she asked in a low, shaky voice, refusing to meet either of our eyes. “They were acting as if they’d never seen Fred before,” I said. “I don’t get it . . .” “Listen to me,” she said urgently, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. “Those kids are from the future–I can tell it–they know all of us, they think Harry and Ginny are their parents, they know your mum and dad as their grandparents. If they recognize you, George, and not Fred, it could mean . . . They said that their parents had told them Fred had gone to the same place as Harry’s parents . . .” To my complete astonishment, her voice broke, and when I took a step closer, I could see tears rolling down her cheeks. “Hermione, don’t cry . . .” “You don’t get it!” she exclaimed, shrugging my hand off of her arm, the tears coming more quickly now, but at least she was looking us in the eyes. She turned to Fred, her bottom lip trembling. “Future you is . . . Fred, you’re . . . you’re dead.” Dead. The word rang meaninglessly in my head. What was she trying to say? That Fred was dead in the future? That was ridiculous. RIDICULOUS. The little wench had no idea what she was talking about. “Bull,” I spat harshly. “You don’t know anything . . .” But looking over at Fred, I could instantly see that he believed Hermione. All the blood had drained from his face as he simply stared at her. She stared back, tears dripping off her chin, wetting the front of her shirt. “This is all bull,” I exclaimed, stomping my foot. “You two are raving mad! Fred’s not going to die, it’s utterly ridiculous–“ “George,” said Fred, “shut up.” I felt a rock sinking to the pit of my stomach. Life without Fred–it’d be no life at all. I couldn’t live without him. He was my best friend, the only person in the entire world who understood me perfectly. We weren’t just brothers; we were twins, with that unexplainable connection that bound us more tightly together than average siblings. Hermione took a step forward, and to my surprise she put her arms not around Fred, but me. I stood there limply, not comprehending, not understanding, hoping that the next moment I’d wake up in my bed upstairs and this would all be a bad dream . . . I shook her off of me. “The future’s not set in stone,” I growled. She shook her head tearfully. “You don’t understand. No one’s ever been able to avoid fate. No one. Even knowing that Fred’s going to die won’t allow any of us to prevent it.” “Why the bloody hell did you go dragging us out here to the hallway, then? Why not go announce it to everyone?” I demanded harshly, not caring that she flinched. Even so, Hermione met my eyes bravely. “Do you really want your mum to know?” And the pain stabbed through me like a knife. Mum. Dad. Ginny. Ron. Bill. Charlie. What would they think when they found out? My eyes were wet, and I quickly rubbed at them with my fists, not wanting either of them to see me cry. “They won’t know,” said Fred quietly. “We won’t tell them. We don’t even know for sure, but if this is going to happen, they don’t need to know. Swear, Hermione, that you won’t say a word.” “I promise,” she whispered, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “Fred, George, I’m so sorry . . .” “Swear, George?” I locked eyes with my twin, and I immediately recognised the quiet resignation to his fate there in his eyes. He was taking it so much better than me, but I couldn’t understand how. Somehow, my fun-loving, energetic sixteen-year-old brother had been transformed into a man, with a new shadow in his eyes and a new destiny to face. I took a breath. “I swear.” Then Fred did the impossible. He grinned. It was a half-hearted, superficial grin, but it was still a smile, all the same. I stared at him, wondering if he’d gone mad. “Aww, George, don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I was just thinking that we’ve got one hell of a reason to launch Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes early. We’ve got a lot to accomplish before I start pushing daisies.” Hermione wiped her eyes and glanced back toward the kitchen. “They’ll be wondering where we are.” The hardest thing I ever had to do was put on a face and walk back through that door, when I felt as if any second I was going to be suffocated by the weight of the secret the three of us now shared. Ginny When Hermione and the twins came back in, I could tell instantly that something was wrong. The twins were laughing about something, arms slung over each others’ shoulders, but their smiles were only skin deep. Hermione grinned at me, but her eyes betrayed her. All was not well. Mum had passed around a tray of milk and biscuits just a few minutes earlier. The children had jumped on it, and now James had a milk moustache as Lily chewed on a chocolate chip mouthful. No one seemed to mind that she was getting crumbs all over the floor. James was in the middle of telling us all about his cousin Victoire who had sent him his very own letter from Hogwarts, and Teddy, who was on the Quidditch team and had helped Hufflepuff win the House Cup last year. “And then he dived and swerved, and snatched the Quaffle right from under the Slytherins’ noses!” he finished, throwing his hands up in the air. “Then Victoire marched right over and gave him a kiss on the cheek . . .” He wrinkled up his nose. “Gross.” “It’s not gross, you prat,” his sister said, sighing. “It’s so romantic.” I laughed, exchanging glances with Mum. “Why isn’t Victoire here, Uncle Bill?” asked James, his forehead crinkling a little. “Is she out shopping with Aunt Fleur again?” There was a long, pregnant pause. Bill’s expression was priceless, a mixture of shock and astonishment. Harry and Ron looked very confused. I gasped; it all made sense. Fleur had just moved to London and was now working at Gringotts . . . “Ah ha!” exclaimed Fred delightedly, clapping his hands together. “Now the truth comes out, brother mine, about your little French girlfriend . . .” “Yeah,” put in Lily, ignoring Fred’s outburst pointedly, though she kept throwing furtive glances at him. I wondered if that had anything to do with what Hermione had whispered in her ear. “Where’s Aunt Angie? She’s always here with Uncle George!” Another shocked silence, in which George seemed to shrink down in his seat. “Oh, you didn’t, ” growled Fred, as I hid my laughs in my hands. Bill looked extremely pleased to have the attention diverted somewhere else. Charlie was laughing as well; evidently he too knew about George’s secret crush on Fred’s girl. But I wasn’t too worried. Knowing Fred, he’d marry someone who was absolutely perfect for him, and wouldn’t be too much of a prat about George tying the knot with Angelina. I’d always thought that George would be better suited with her anyway. James seemed to be searching for someone else. “Uncle Percy’s not here,” he announced. “And neither is Aunt Audrey.” So the future did hold something promising for our family. A reunion with Percy. Tears sprung to Mum’s eyes and she wiped them away with her apron; Bill whispered furiously to Dad. “Pompous git,” I heard Ron mutter, and I sent him a glare. Percy was a git, but I still hated hearing my brother talk badly about him, black sheep as he might be. Mum seemed to have regained her composure as she clapped her hands. “Listen, everyone, I think the situation is a little out of our control now.” She took a deep breath. “I think we should call Dumbledore.” “No!” The voice rang sharply across the room. Everyone turned; surprisingly, it was Harry who had spoken. He was looking straight at Mum, a determined glint in his eye. “No,” he said again, “we’re not going to Dumbledore.” “But why not?” Mum said, looking confused. “He’s the only one who will know how to get them back . . .” “No,” said Harry stonily. No one moved. My eyes were fixed on Harry, and I felt a little rush of pride. I knew he didn’t trust Dumbledore, not after the old codger had left him at the Dursleys with no news for a month. And I was pleased that he’d had enough backbone to stand up to my mum, the most fearsome person I knew. “But dear,” she began. “I agree with Harry,” I said quietly, and instantly all eyes moved to rest on me. I squirmed a little under all the attention. “Dumbledore will see these children as a threat,” I continued, looking to Hermione for reassurance. Fortunately, she was nodding , albeit reluctantly. “Maybe he’ll think that V-Voldemort sent them. He’ll take them away and do experiments on the golden ball, but not before Obliviating us of all the memories we’ve acquired tonight. I think this is something we need to sort out here. Without his help.” “But however are we going to get the children back?” Mum said, wringing her hands. “We need Dumbledore!” “We can do it without him,” I said firmly, and she looked ready to argue when Lily cut in. “Back where?” she asked me curiously. “And who’re Dumbledore and Voldemort?” She lived in a world where Voldemort didn’t exist. A wild, furious burst of joy filled my chest. I looked over at Harry, but he wasn’t looking at me; obviously he hadn’t completely understood the implications of what Lily had just revealed–that he had a future to look forward to, one without Voldemort in it. I turned to the tiny girl perched on my knee. “Sweetie,” I said slowly. “I know this is going to be hard to understand . . . but, well, you’ve come back in time.” James’s jaw dropped. “Cool!” he immediately cried, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Boys. They were all the same, at all ages, in all times. Lily looked thoughtfully. “So you’re my mum, but you’re younger,” she stated, and I wondered where on earth she’d picked up her deductive reasoning at such a young age. Heaven knew neither Harry nor I could ever hold a candle to Hermione’s level of intelligence–but maybe that was the key. She’d been spending a little too much time with “Aunt” Hermione. “Pretty much,” I said. “So that’s why Uncle Bill’s face is different, and Uncle George still has both ears,” Lily murmured to her brother. A bitter taste filled my mouth. What scars would my brothers be carrying away from the war? “Mum, I think you knew this was going to happen,” Lily whispered in my ear, and I looked questioningly at her. “Why do you say that?” “Yesterday I overheard you talking to Dad,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but I wanted to listen . . .” “It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Just tell me what we were saying.” She exchanged a glance with her twin. “You were saying that it was bound to happen any day now, but Dad said, ‘Don’t worry, Gin, they’ll be safe. You know that.’ Mum, what did you mean?” But I didn’t reply. I was amazed by this new turn of events. My future self had known that this would be happen. Harry had known, too. Everything would be alright–I might not know the outcome of this chance meeting tonight, but I knew everything would turn out for the best. “It means that we’re going to figure out a way to get you two back to your own time,” said Hermione determinedly, standing from her chair and marching across the room to shove the ball into Bill’s hands. “What does that rune there mean?” Bill I stared down at the tiny golden writing etched into the globe Hermione Granger was holding out to me. Taking it from her, I could barely read the words etched next to each lever. One, two, three, four, five, six . . . The numbers continued all the way through thirty, and the tiny lever was set on fifteen. This lever must be the number of years the bearers could jump back in time. The second two runes were easy enough–backward and forward. The switch being set on “backward,” I figured that this one was determinative on which direction the user would jump–ahead or backwards in time. The third was a little more complicated, but I finally made out that this knob changed the type of time travel–whether the user would be visible or invisible, in his own corporeal body or inhabiting the body of his future or past self. Of course, all these instructions, handy as they were, told me nothing of how the ball was activated, whether it was stable, or how many people could be transported. I explained all of this to Hermione, who nodded and frowned in turn, taking back the ball and examining it carefully. “I recognised the first few sets of runes,” she said, and I couldn’t help but be a little impressed. I’d heard she was extremely smart, but these specific runes were part of an ancient magical language that wasn’t studied at Hogwarts until at least year seven. “But I wasn’t sure about the last part.” I took the ball again. “It looks as if all we need to do is flip the switch back to ‘forward,’” I speculated. “Perhaps if the children do it, they will activate it and get back to their own time.” “It seems too easy, but your theory seems like the only reasonable one we have,” she admitted. Across the room, I was surprised to see how quickly my baby sister had adapted to motherhood. James was leaning comfortably on her knee, while Lily was perched on the other. Ginny was absently stroking her daughter’s–good Merlin, the idea of Ginny with a daughter was unnerving–hair, keeping her other hand reassuringly on James’s shoulder. The whole idea of her marrying Harry was taking me a little more time to get used to, though Charlie and I thought the fact that so far Harry hadn’t made any rude comments or boasts like most teenage guys his age would have done was promising. Truth be told, the poor kid looked scared out of his mind–but who wouldn’t be? No bloke wanted to marry a girl with six older brothers. Now Ginny spoke up. “You’re sure they’ll be okay?” Hermione and I glanced at each other. “Nothing is certain,” I said slowly, “but it’s the only chance we’ve got.” Ginny turned to the children. “We’re going to try and send you back now,” she said, looking extremely regretful. “I’m sure your father and I are very worried about you.” “Okay,” said James immediately, letting go of her knee and bounding over to me, hands outstretched for the golden globe. Lily took a little more time, giving Ginny a hug before sliding off her knee. Then she paused, as if trying to make up her mind, before turning and striding determinedly to Harry. “Bye, Daddy,” she said, putting her arms around his neck, and this time, Harry hugged her back. “Bye,” Harry mumbled, and his eyes followed her path over to where Hermione and I were bent over the golden globe. “James, Lily,” I addressed them, “I want you to both take hold of the golden ball and James, you need to turn this lever right here. Now show me which switch you’re going to turn.” James identified the correct lever, then reached out his hand for the globe. I held it out of his reach. “First,” I instructed, “you need to go say good-bye to your Grandpa and Grandma.” They willingly ran to Mum and Dad, hugging them both in turn. Mum was smiling so widely I thought her cheeks would split. “See you both soon,” she murmured, stroking Lily’s cheek compassionately. Then, Lily turned to hug Hermione. “I can’t wait to tell Rose all about how I saw her mum when she was young,” she said excitedly, and Hermione’s face reddened all over again. “Both of you, stand in the middle of the room,” Hermione ordered, and the children obeyed. “Now, take the globe, both of you, and on the count of three, James, you push the lever . . .” James grinned merrily. For him, it was just another adventure. But Lily looked around a bit sadly, as if trying to get one more glance at the younger versions of her family. Was it my imagination, or did her eyes linger just a bit longer on the twins before looking over at Ron and Harry sitting by the fireplace? “One,” said Hermione. The twins gripped the golden ball between them. “Two. Three.” James switched the lever. At first, nothing happened, but then suddenly several people gasped as the air around the two began to shimmer. I felt an invisible wind hit my face. Lily and James were looking straight into the shimmering air, but instead of seeing us, they seemed to be seeing something entirely different . . . And then, Lily shrieked, “Daddy!” but her cry wasn’t directed at Harry. Voices floated through the kitchen, but they seemed to be a long way off: Harry’s voice. “Look, Ginny, they’re appearing! Where’s Hermione?” Ginny’s voice. “Lily, James, can you hear me?” Now, it was Hermione. “I’m here, Harry . . . do they have the globe? Oh, good, they’re back alright . . .” A snort that was most obviously future Ron’s. “Of course they’re alright, Hermione, you knew that from the beginning . . .” There was a rushing sound, and I threw my arm above my face to shield my eyes from the light that had suddenly filled the room. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over, and the two children were gone. Charlie After that, Mum and Dad immediately excused themselves to go to the sitting room to talk. I didn’t blame them one bit–after something this dramatic, they had a lot of information to discuss. I felt a bit light-headed myself; in one evening, I knew who Ginny, Ron, Bill, Percy, and George would be marrying. That in itself was a lot of information to digest, not to mention the fact that several of my siblings would be reproducing in a few years. Bill gave a huge fake yawn. “I think I’ll turn in,” he announced, finally breaking the silence that filled the room. “Me, too,” I said quickly, and he shot me a glare. I returned it with a cheeky grin. I had a load of questions for him. Bill followed me out the door and down the hallway which lead past another door that opened into the sitting room. As I approached it, I slowed; I could hear Mum crying, great heaving sobs, and for a moment I thought something was horribly wrong. “A-Arthur,” she said between sniffs, her voice floating out into the hallway, “I’m going to be a grandmother!” “Molly,” Dad said, sounding extremely exasperated. “You have seven children! Where on earth did you get the idea that you wouldn’t have grandchildren?” Bill and I convulsed in silent laughter. “Come on,” I said at last. “Let’s leave them to their moment.” At one point in time, Bill and I had shared a room, but now that Percy wasn’t here, it made no sense for us to continue to do so. I’d moved my stuff up to Percy’s room; I hated living there, but I would only be here for a few days before heading back to Romania, so I could manage it. We were both old enough to need our privacy, anyway. Bill stopped at his room on the first floor, and I paused too, leaning against the doorpost as he entered and shrugged off his boots. “So,” I said casually. “Fleur Delacour?” He spun around, face as red as a beet. That was the problem with us Weasleys, I mused. We wore our emotions on our faces, usually in the form of bright colours, red being the most common. It was a curse, to be sure. “Yeah,” he said defensively. “Maybe I do like her. What of it?” I shrugged. “Just wondering. You never mentioned her in your letters.” “It was pretty recent,” he said, blushing an even deeper shade of red. “It didn’t seem right to be going on about that with You-Know-Who back and all.” There was a long pause as he bent over the mirror to take out his earring. “She’s pretty,” I observed, remembering the tall, slender blonde I’d caught glimpses of when I’d handled the dragons for the first task. “When’d you meet her?” “At the third task,” he mumbled. “She asked if she could write me, and a few weeks into the summer she decided to come to Gringotts. We’ve kind of been seeing each other ever since.” The silence grew a bit awkward, so I just decided to dive in head first and ask the question I wanted to. “So . . . the whole marriage thing . . . doesn’t that weird you out a little?” Bill shrugged. “It’s about time I settle down, I suppose. I’m nearly twenty-five, after all.” “But do you think she’s the one?” He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t really know, Charlie. She’s pretty and intelligent, fiery and witty, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with.” “So if things go right, you’ll marry her.” “If she says yes.” He suddenly gave me a cocky grin. “I really want to see how that ‘Victoire’ kid turns out anyway. She sounds like a little spitfire.” I laughed along with him before turning to go. “But,” Bill continued, still grinning, and I paused once again, “you can bet your life I’ll be doing my very best to keep that Teddy bloke as far away from her as I possibly can.” Ron Fred and George left shortly after Bill and Charlie, but instead of heading upstairs, they headed for the front door. I wondered what was so important that they felt they needed to leave the Burrow in order to talk about it, but didn’t try and ask. The atmosphere grew awkward with just the four of us left in the room. Ginny and Harry were refusing to look at each other, and Hermione was pointedly avoiding glancing at me. There really wasn’t much to say. Finally, after ten minutes of horrible discomfort, I stood and announced that I was going to bed. “I’m coming up, too,” said Ginny hastily, her eyes begging me not to leave her alone with Harry and Hermione. I nodded and gestured for her to go ahead of me, and she fled the room without a backward glance. I paused uncomfortably in the doorway. “Uh, good night,” I mumbled before making my hasty exit. Ginny was already a good ten paces ahead of me, but a few strides and I easily caught up with her. We climbed the stairs side by side, not speaking until we reached her room. She paused uncertainly next to her door. “Can I come up to your room for a bit, Ron?” she asked in a tiny voice, and suddenly confident, motherly Ginny was gone, replaced with my little sister who was just as scared and confused as I felt. “Sure,” I said, wondering if I should pat her arm or something. I’ve never been good around girls, so instead I just turned and headed up the remaining four flights. In my room, I turned on the lights and headed for the closet to shrug off my outer jumper. My room, being the highest, was also the warmest room during the hot summer months, no matter how many times Mum charmed it to stay cool. When I turned back around, Ginny was sitting on the bed, knees to her chin, with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. I threw myself down on the other end and stuffed a pillow under my stomach. For a moment we just sat there, lost in our thoughts. I felt like I should say something. “Crazy night, huh?” “Crazy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she sighed, staring unseeingly at the Quidditch posters on the wall. “Ron, what am I going to do?” I shifted uncomfortably. The emotions I was struggling with right now were very conflicting, and I hadn’t the slightest clue how to sort them out. Anger–at Harry, because one day he was going to knock up my baby sister; happiness–because I knew that Ginny had liked Harry ever since I could remember, and a tiny part of me thought they’d be perfect for each other; worry–because I might not be the brightest bloke in the world, but I certainly picked up the fact that in the future, I was married to Hermione Granger, and frankly, I was scared to death; and protectiveness–because my baby sister was sitting right here, scarcely fourteen, and now burdened with a load of knowledge no fourteen-year-old should know. For once, I stopped and thought before I spoke; I definitely didn’t want to say the wrong thing now of all times. “The future isn’t set in stone.” “But what if I want it to be?” she whispered, and I jerked my head up. She was staring at me, her face a picture of hope and excitement and fear and anxiety all at once. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I have plans to jump him tomorrow . . .” “If you did, I might have to tear him limb from limb,” I growled. She giggled. “Oh, stop it, Ron. All I’m saying is that I absolutely adored Lily and James. What if I want that future, but Harry doesn’t? What on earth am I to do?” How could I tell her that Harry only had eyes for Cho Chang? That he hadn’t ever paid the slightest glance in her direction, ever? That he was only a fifteen-year-old bloke, and we blokes all had a problem with not seeing what was right in front of our eyes? “Harry’ll come around,” I said, but my voice betrayed my uncertainty. “Those children were from the future, Ginny, so it’s bound to happen eventually, I think. Just don’t give up hope, okay?” She didn’t say anything, but the tiny smile on her face let me know that I’d done a bit of good. I stared out the window. Just over the trees I could see the outline of the half moon, hanging in the night sky like a beacon of hope. “Ginny,” I said, stumbling a little over my words. “Harry is going to win.” She smiled so beautifully, her face alight with the same overwhelming relief that I myself felt. “I know,” she whispered. Then her smile turned decisively evil. “And you’ll marry Hermione and have loads of bushy-haired bookworms . . .” I groaned and buried my head in the blankets. “I knew you were going to bring that up!” Ginny laughed delightedly. “How could I not? I’m your sister. It’s my job to make your life hard.” I didn’t reply, and she peered curiously at me. “Ron, do you like her?” “I don’t know,” I moaned, sitting up on the bed and tossing the pillow at my closet doors. “Define ‘like.’” “Well, she likes you.” I turned to stare at my sister disbelievingly. “What?” “She has ever since her first year, when you saved her from that troll,” said Ginny matter-of-factly. “But . . . but . . . how . . .” She raised one eyebrow. “How could she ever like me?” I mumbled. “I’m not very smart, and she’s really pretty . . .” Ginny had an odd expression on her face. “Ron, no one is as intelligent as Hermione, not me, or you, or Harry; not even Bill, I’d wager. And why wouldn’t she like you? You’re smart and sweet and funny and you play a killer game of chess.” She smiled. “You two are perfect for each other.” I groaned again. “That really doesn’t make me feel any better. Not after tonight’s revelation.” “Oh, but it’ll happen,” said Ginny sagely. “And you’ll never look back.” She suddenly checked her watch and paled a little. “Merlin, I’ve got to get out of here before he shows up.” We both knew who ‘he’ was. I reached over and gave her a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Ron,” she murmured, uncurling herself and dropping lightly to the floor. “G’night.” And then she disappeared out the door, leaving me to my own confusing thoughts. Harry At last, it was just me and Hermione, for which I was glad. If there was one person in the room I felt like I could talk to, it was her. I had been so afraid after Lily and James had vanished that all five Weasley boys were going to jump me that I’d been avoiding everyone’s eyes. Especially Ginny’s. Hermione was my best friend, and as she wasn’t a Weasley, she was bound to have a more objective viewpoint. But right now, she was staring into the fireplace, an unreadable expression on her face. Her face was pale in the light, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. Finally, I got to my feet and pulled a chair over to sit beside her. “What’s the matter?” She shook her head. “Nothing,” she sighed. “I’m just thinking. Trying to sort everything out.” I let out my breath in a long whoosh. “It was a bit overwhelming.” She snorted. “A bit? Just think of the ramifications of their visit! History will never be the same again. The possibilities of time travel over spans of years could change everything as we know it, and just the fact that James and Lily were here . . . Merlin, they’ve sent our own timeline spinning in a completely new direction. We know things we aren’t supposed to know.” “Like who we’re going to marry and the kids we’re going to have,” I said, trying to catch up on her train of thought. “Yeah,” she said, but somehow I didn’t think that was the only thing she was thinking of. There was a look in her eye that I didn’t at all like, a new depth that hadn’t been there before. “Hermione,” I began, but she jumped in first. “So, you and Ginny, huh? Isn’t that marvellous?” “Yeah. Sure,” I mumbled. Me and Ginny. Ginny and I. Married. I could hardly wrap my mind around the concept. Here I was, just fifteen, and hardly even willing to think about the fact that I might have a life after Voldemort, and now I find out that in the future, I’m married and I have children. It was too much. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Hermione must have understood what I was going through. She patted my arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Harry. It’s a long way off. Don’t feel like you have to force anything. Just let the events fall into place. You may not like her now, but you will one day.” “But why on earth would she ever want to be with me?” I moaned. “I’m scrawny, I don’t get great grades, I’ve got Voldemort coming after me at every turn; hell, the only thing I do have going for me is the fact that I’m on the Quidditch team. What on earth did future me ever do to deserve a girl like her?” Hermione laughed, though I didn’t see anything funny. “Oh, Harry,” she exclaimed, grinning. “You’ve got it all wrong. Girls like Ginny and I, we don’t go for the best-looking blokes or the Quidditch team stars. What’s inside is what matters, and Harry, you’ve got a good heart.” I must have not looked convinced enough, because Hermione switched into ‘lecture’ mode. “Listen, Harry. How many people have you saved? Me, Ginny, Sirius, Ron . . . and there will be more. How could a girl not like a bloke like you?” “I’ve got Voldemort after me,” I mumbled. “She must know it’s not safe.” “Ron and I knew that from the very beginning, and that never stopped us,” she said softly. “I’d rather be by your side than anywhere else.” I was touched by the loyalty she showed, but I really wanted to turn the conversation in a different direction, so I blurted out the first thing I could think to say. “So you and Ron, huh? There’s one I never saw coming.” Sarcastically speaking, of course. I’d seen the way he’d absolutely hated Krum’s guts last year at the Yule Ball. I’d seen the looks she threw him when she thought he wasn’t looking. And I’d seen an emotion a bit deeper than platonic friendship when Ron had been injured by the chess queen, and when Hermione had been Petrified. “Oh, posh,” said Hermione, blushing red. I grinned at her, and she in turn swatted my arm. “I’m hoping that he didn’t pick that part up. I mean, Ron could think that I’m an ‘aunt’ just because I’m close to the family, not because I’m directly related . . .” She buried her face in her hands. “But Lily whispered the truth in my ear,” she mumbled. She and Ron would be great together, I thought, but I was pretty sure that there was no way on earth that Ron hadn’t picked up the obvious hints from the time travellers that his future wife was in fact Hermione. “I’m sure he’s pretty freaked out,” I said. She nodded. “I’m terrified, Harry. How am I supposed to act around him now?” I bit my lip. “Um, I think we should all try and act normal. For everyone’s sake.” I shuddered at the idea of Ginny going all shy and clumsy around me again, and Ron making eyes at Hermione every chance he got. Acting normal was about the only thing we could do for now. We were only fifteen, after all, and Ginny was fourteen. Way too young for marriage proposals. “You said yourself we should just let things fall into place,” I continued. But the idea of Hermione and Ron skirting around each other for another four years was even more unnerving than the idea of Ron in love, so I quickly added, “But you shouldn’t wait too long. I can’t stand your bickering for another ten years.” She laughed. “Bickering, huh? Ron’s own personal way of flirting?” I groaned. “Oh, please don’t ever tell him that.” “I won’t.” She sighed a little and stared again into the fireplace. There was a long pause. Then I said, “Hermione, what exactly did you say to Fred and George out in the hall?” Her eyes flickered, but then she looked down at her lap. “Harry, don’t ask me that.” “Why not?” She took a deep breath. “One day you’ll know. But for now, just trust me, okay? It’s better for you not to know.” I struggled for a moment, wondering what on earth could be so important that it was better for me not to know. But then again, we’d all kept our secrets at one point or another–and I was instantly reminded of my journey into Dumbledore’s Pensive, discovering the horrible fate of Neville’s parents. I was sure she had a good reason for not telling me whatever she was hiding, so I just shrugged. “Thanks,” she said softly, looking intensely relieved. We just sat there in contemplative silence for a few more minutes before I realised that my throat was beginning to tighten. The novelty that one day my life would be Voldemort-free was so liberating, so amazingly wondrous that I wasn’t quite sure what to do, or how to express the intense elation I was feeling. But fortunately, Hermione understood. “I know,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder, and when I looked over at her, I saw that she did understand. My joy was reflected in her eyes. “Harry, you’re going to win.” And knowing that made all the difference. Fifteen Years in the Future Hermione At last, all the hugs had been exchanged, the tears shed, and everyone was situated and ready for the two children to begin their amazing story. “Hermione, I can’t believe you brought that home from work,” Ron said, exasperatedly, though his eyes were fond as he played with his wife’s hair. I swatted his hands away, grinning good-naturedly. “I didn’t mean to! I remembered just as well as you lot what had happened, and I vowed not to bring the golden globe home, but I think Kendra Kelps must have slipped it into my bag. She wanted me to do some extra experiments on it outside of work, and when I refused she must have taken matters into her own hands.” Ginny shook her head in amazement. “You were right, Hermione. It was going to happen even if we had wanted to stop it.” “Mum, your hair was all long!” Lily interrupted, tugging on Ginny’s sleeve. “And Dad had these funny-looking glasses!” “I remember those,” said Ginny fondly, smiling over at Harry before turning back to the children. “Right now we just want to hear your story from beginning to end.” “But we were there,” said Ron, looking confused. I rolled my eyes. “Ron, it was fifteen years ago, for Merlin’s sake. And I’m sure Lily and James have their own unique viewpoints, too. You can continue, dearies.” The twins immediately launched into a detailed description of their journey back in time, starting with the reactions of everyone they’d met. “And Dad looked absolutely petrified!” Lily exclaimed. Harry ducked his head while Ginny, Ron, and I laughed. “Uncle Ron was speechless too,” James reminded his sister, and Ron stopped laughing. “Go on, go on,” urged Ginny through her chuckles, and Lily and James began to relate how confusing it’d been to be in a room full of the younger versions of their parents, uncles, aunts, and grandparents. When they reached the part where they’d told the younger Aunt Hermione about the ball, they suddenly stopped talking and looked hesitantly at me. “Can we tell them?” asked James, pointing back at the other three. There was a long, pregnant pause as I struggled with my emotions. It’d been a long time since I’d thought about that long ago evening at the Burrow, and even longer since I’d attempted to deal with my mixed feelings about the secret I’d buried that night. I finally nodded. “Go ahead,” I said quietly. Harry, Ron, and Ginny looked confused, and rightly so. But as Lily hesitantly explained how baffled she and James had been to see two Uncle Georges in the room, understanding began to flood their eyes. “I realised it first,” I said, when the twins stopped talking. “And I couldn’t let Molly find out, I just couldn’t, so I told Fred and George to go out to the hallway, then made Lily and James promise to act like nothing was wrong and not say anything to anyone else. As far as I know, they didn’t. “Then I went to the hall, and I had to tell them both that . . . that . . .” I couldn’t continue, and a single tear fell off my chin and splashed on my tightly clasped hands in my lap. The memories were still fresh and painful, even though it’d been fifteen long, happy years. But to my surprise, none of my friends seemed to be upset or angry at me. Ron put a long, lanky arm around my shoulder and squeezed my arm reassuringly. Harry held Ginny’s hand tightly as she used her other hand to wipe tears from her own eyes. “He knew,” Ginny said softly. “They both knew . . . Everything makes so much sense now . . .” “The way they got their joke shop up and running so quickly,” put in Ron. “Remember how they got themselves expelled from Hogwarts our fifth year?” said Harry quietly. “Fred spent a lot of time with me that year,” said Ginny. “And my sixth year,” said Ron. “Remember how they used to come up on the weekends for Quidditch matches?” “I always wondered why they didn’t move into their own flat that year,” mused Ginny. “Merlin knew they had enough money. I suppose Fred just wanted to have more time around Mum and Dad.” “They visited Bill and Charlie a lot that year, too,” Ron reminisced. “They even tried to get a hold of Percy,” said Ginny, dabbing at her eyes again. “I saw their store owl bringing back some of their unopened letters while I was at home.” They fell silent. My tears were flowing freely now, and a tiny hope burned in my chest that maybe, just maybe, I had done the right thing in telling Fred and George the truth that evening. “Looks like the twins took that phrase on Fred’s tombstone seriously,” Harry said. “’Live without regrets.’” “That’s exactly what Fred and George did,” I said, smiling through my tears. “They lived without regrets, even right up to Fred’s own death.” “George never said anything at all,” Ginny marvelled. “I can’t believe he kept that secret for all these years.” “Hermione never said a word either,” Ron pointed out. “But I think it was for the best.” Lily and James had been watching the exchange silently, but now Lily climbed up on her mum’s lap and gently wiped tears from Ginny’s cheek. “Mum, why are you crying? Are you sad?” “No, no,” said Ginny quickly, smiling. “I’m happy. These are happy tears.” And they were. Mixed with sorrow, but happy tears nonetheless. Because we finally could remember Fred Weasley for the man he truly was, and remember his last years with us–the best years of his life. It made all the difference. All the difference in the world. |
| Reviews 20 |
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