George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 10: Year 4

1992 - 1993

September 10, 1992

Dear Annie,

Hello from Hogfarts. Our trip to school on the train was uneventful. Can't say the same for Ron and Harry, though. They took the bleedin' car - flew it from London all the way up here, the effing prats! They're sticking to some lame excuse that the barrier to the platform was sealed. We're pissed off they didn't invite us for the ride... I mean, who were the blokes that came and rescued Harry in the first place? Which generous elder brothers taught Ron to drive? A little consideration, please!

Ginny Sorted into Gryffindor. That makes the lot of us, including Mum and Dad. It's sort of nice, having the five of us here together. Makes it almost like home. Except of course the added bonus of no parental supervision.

Quidditch practice has begun. We're keeping the same team as last year and Wood's still captain. Except for Harry, we'll be playing together for our third year in a row now, and I can't help but think that bodes well for our chances at the Cup this year. I wouldn't bet against us!

Except, that is, for the fact that Slytherin are now mounted on the fastest brooms in existence. Some little rich git's father bought his son's way onto the team with them.

There's a bit of history between this Draco Malfoy and Harry, apparently. And Ron as well. The little shit Slytherin called their friend Hermione a rather offensive epithet, and Ron tried to curse him. His wand is broken from the car trip, and therefore the curse backfired, causing him to urp slugs for an afternoon. I just wish it hadn't been so entertaining to see Ron so miserable - Malfoy deserved it more.

That's about it for us. What's going on in your neck of the world?

Love,

George & Fred

*

October 2, 1992

Dear Fred & George,

Hello from Pottery St. Butthole. Whatever happened to the car? I snuck over to your place and it's nowhere to be seen. Do you still have it with you? If so, do you think you can sneak off with it some time, maybe come home for a visit during the holidays?

You mentioned a name I haven't heard before: Draco Malfoy (that's quite a mouthful for a muggle like me). You also mentioned he's from a rich family. Do you think he's got access to a house elf? Could he be the one messing with Harry?

I had a nice bit of news myself last week. The P.E. teacher happened to mention my name to the track coach as a likely candidate for the team. Coach Williams asked if I'd be interested in joining, and I said yes! He also mentioned that the team gets together a few times a month in the off season (now) to train. Tomorrow will be my first day to run with them. Wish me luck!

Love you more,

Annie

*

November 9, 1992

Dear Annie,

The car is currently running wild in the Forbidden Forest. Not much chance of us taking it anywhere anytime soon. It's apparently quite put out by the treatment it suffered at the hands of Ron and Harry (gits!).

What is a track team, and what does it have to do with running? Are you being chased by something or is it just a race-type setup?

I've got loads of news for you today. Most importantly: something is attacking Hogwarts residents. There've been two attacks in the span of a week, and the victims are lying petrified in the hospital wing. The first victim was that bloody cat, Mrs. Norris. I can assure you I was not the only one cheering that news. But then a little first year kid was attacked yesterday, and no one's laughing now.

Nobody has a clue what's behind the attacks, except for a message written in chicken's blood on the wall - something about a Chamber of Secrets being opened. I thought that bit was codswallop at first, but even the professors are acting skittish, so now I'm not so sure.

Despite all of this, I am happy to report we won the match versus Slytherin. Harry caught the snitch right out from under the nose of that little git of a seeker, Malfoy. One of the bludgers had been tampered with to hunt Harry exclusively, and unfortunately it got past Fred and me and bashed his arm. Then Professor Lockheart took it upon himself to de-bone the poor bloke's arm - which actually looked pretty cool, I must confess! What an unmitigated idiot this Lockheart fellow is turning out to be.

As for your theory about Malfoy... it's worth keeping an eye on, that's for sure. Write back soon and explain the track team business.

Love,

George & Fred

*

November 19, 1992

Dear Fred & George,

I want both of you out of that place! Come home this instant! How can a school stay open with a monster on the prowl, attacking students? What are the parents saying? Go find the Anglia and do whatever it takes to get the hell out of there!

Sorry about that. I know it's useless to rant, but it made me feel better to say it. Just please don't get petrified yourselves. What will happen to the victims? Is there some way to cure them?

Glad you won the match. Sorry to hear about Harry, but from what I understand about magical medicine, he was only out of commission overnight, correct?

Running is great! There is more than one kind of track team. I am on the sort that runs races over a natural course rather than a paved oval. No sprinting involved, thank goodness. It's more a test of endurance.

Write back often so I know you are safe.

Love you more,

Annie

*

December 19, 1992

Dear Annie,

I was going to write and tell you to calm down, take a deep breath, and don't get your knickers in a knot. However, that was before yesterday, when there was another attack. Some kid I don't know, and a ghost. Nobody understands how a ghost could be petrified, but there you have it. And yes, there is a way to cure them, but it takes a long time, so all is not lost don't worry. Even so, Fred and I have consequently decided to curtail our post-curfew forays for a bit - we're not complete idiots, you know.

Can't say the same for Lockheart. He started a dueling club for students, which I admit is a brilliant idea. However, this git can't seem to cast a spell to save his life.

Harry, on the other hand, did pull quite a stunt. He was pit against Malfoy, who shot a bloody snake out of his wand at him (creepy, no?). Then Harry spoke to the damn thing in Parseltongue (snake language) which is just about as creepy as you can get. Now everyone thinks he's the Heir of Slytherin (and therefore responsible for all the attacks) which is complete ballocks of course.

I will say however that Harry, Hermione and Ron have been acting a bit dodgy lately. They are definitely up to something.

Weather here is crap - an effing blizzard blew through and we are stuck indoors like rats in a cage. Hope yours is better. Happy Christmas!

Love,

George & Fred

*

December 26, 1992

Dear Fred & George,

What are you trying to do to me? If the answer is make me worry until my hair falls out, congratulations. Weather here is crap as well, but thankfully not snowy, so I guess I can't complain to you about it. All the cold rain doesn't make for pleasant running conditions, however.

Christmas was nice enough. Gran and I had our traditional feast at the soup kitchen in Exeter, helping out. My friend Jane thinks it sounds depressing, but I think it's got the opposite effect. I always feel cheered up, counting my blessings and grateful I'm not as destitute as those poor sods. Maybe that makes me a jerk, I can't decide.

You haven't mentioned anything regarding the fake wands yet. Are you having any success with them? Even if you haven't, I don't think you should give up on them! Maybe this year, with the seriousness of all the attacks, just isn't the right time.

Be safe, and write back soon.

Love you more,

Annie

*

January 2, 1993

Dear Annie,

I knew it! As I write this, Hermione is in the hospital wing here covered in cat fur. She even has whiskers and a tail! Harry and Ron are allowed to visit her every day, but the rest of us weren't allowed in. Surely Pomfrey knows better than to expect Fred and me to take that rubbish without a fight! We snuck in last night to see for ourselves, and blimey, what a shock! I simply must find out how she managed such a brilliant transformation!

Term starts Monday (ugh). Break has been utterly boring, except for last night's escapade, that is. Otherwise we've been killing time shut up here in the Common room, playing Exploding Snap and practicing dueling.

We've only shown the wands to Lee and Ken, for exactly the reason you mentioned. We'll bide our time until the attacks are over, then start marketing in earnest.

Love,

George & Fred

*

January 30, 1993

Dear Fred and George,

Do not sneak out again. Do not turn yourselves into cats. Do not risk your necks for any other stupid reason, including dueling with other idiots like yourselves.

What the hell kind of school are you going to anyway?

Ah, I do miss Exploding Snap. That certainly brings back pleasant memories. Of course, the bang isn't quite as satisfying as the one you get with the wands, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Official team practice begins next week! Three times a week for the month of February, then down to twice once the weekly meets begin.

Write back soon and don't do anything stupid in the meantime.

Love you more,

Annie

*

February 28, 1993

Dear Annie,

Happy birthday! We got the hint... here's your deck of Exploding Snap cards. Use them in good health (and in secret).

We just spent the most loathsome Valentine's Day in the history of the bleedin' thing. Professor Prat-Heart decided to facilitate the delivery of love notes (retch) which mostly amounted to idiotic girls sending him fan letters. Poor Harry was attacked by one - I felt sorry for the miserable fellow.

One bright spot: we did win the match against Ravenclaw. It was close though, so even though our record is undefeated, points-wise we are still vulnerable. Hope you have good luck in your running matches as well.

Love,

George & Fred

*

March 30, 1993

Dear Fred & George,

Happy birthday boys! I am fairly bursting with cheer and good news.

Item 1: Running is going really well. We've had three meets and I have beaten every other girl in my year, as well as a few upper classmen. My biggest obstacle is the fact that my stride is so short (I can hear you sniggering, so shut it!) but Coach says I have a good deal of natural talent. So I just have to grow longer legs...

Item 2: I am now gainfully employed! I got a job bussing tables at the curry house here in Ottery on weekends. Hopefully by the summer, once running season is over, I'll get promoted to waitressing (higher wage plus tips - squee!).

Item 3: Due in large part to Item 2, here are your birthday gifts! Jane drove me to a muggle joke shop in Exeter last weekend (she just got her license) and I picked up a decent smattering for you. Hope you get inspired, and enjoy!

Love you more,

Annie

P.S. I was not hinting, but thanks for the cards!

*

April 15, 1993

Dear Annie,

You are an angel of mercy, sent to us in our darkest hour of boredom, delivering us from certain petrification! Those gags are nothing short of miraculous!

Fred has become an expert at casting the "whoopee" cushions underneath girls just before they sit down in the Common room. At first they were furious about it, and I thought they were going to murder him (or me, they didn't seem picky, even though I was perfectly innocent). But now they just smile at him and giggle when he does it. I will never understand women as long as I live.

I'm intrigued by the idea of gag sweets, like the gum you sent that dyes your mouth. I'm thinking there must be infinite possibilities for charming sweets, or mixing potions into them for amusing effects.

Good news: there hasn't been another attack in months. People are still jumpy though. Ginny's been acting quite strangely lately, but I can't get her to talk to me about whatever's bothering her. So is Percy, for that matter. Caught him sneaking back into the Common room last night nearly five minutes after curfew (shock-horror)! You can be sure Perfect Prefect Percifect (say that three times fast!) would have docked me points if it had been my ass that was late (not that he'd ever catch me, nor would I only be a measly five minutes late).

Thanks again for the gifts. You're a life saver!

Love,

George & Fred

*

May 1, 1993

Dear Fred & George,

Glad you enjoyed the jokes. Maybe we can head over to Exeter this summer, and I'll show you what a muggle version of Zonko's might look like. Time is getting short now and I'm counting the days until school is out!

Here's an absolutely true, utterly hilarious story for you. Last weekend, I spent Saturday night at Jane's. Sunday morning the family dragged me to church with them. I was fully prepared to be bored to tears, but instead wound up crying with laughter.

There were guest speakers that morning - a lovely Indian couple who had come to share the story of their conversion from Hinduism to Christianity (not the funny part). It was a very moving story actually: they were persecuted by their families and neighbors but remained true to their new beliefs (again, not funny). After the gentleman shared his story, he left the dais and his wife began to speak.

A few moments later, strange noises began to echo through the sanctuary. It sounded like a series of doors opening and closing. Turns out the husband had forgotten to remove or turn off his microphone (a little device that muggles wear to amplify their voices). Which wouldn't have been a problem except HE WENT TO THE TOILET! The entire congregation listened while HE TOOK A PISS (and he must've had loads of coffee that morning, if you catch my drift)!

I thought I was going to die trying not to laugh out loud. And the shocked faces on all the proper church ladies didn't help to sober me up either. My stomach muscles ached with the effort. The poor wife was mortified of course but valiantly tried to march on with what I am sure was an equally moving tale, not that I heard a word of it.

As I reread my account, I realize it doesn't read nearly as funny as it was in person. Sorry about that.

Looking forward to seeing you again soon!

Love you more,

Annie

*

"All right then, Annie.... What should we be doing in the garden today?" her Gran asked her. The morning was chilly but the ground fully thawed, and it was time to start planting their little garden.

Annie began thinking aloud. "Let's see.... Full moon was about three days ago, so that means it's waning in... Taurus, is it? That would mean potatoes and carrots and the like. The root crops." She knew it didn't really make any scientific sense, her grandmother's methods of gardening, but it was hard to argue with her success. No one else she knew had as productive a garden as they did.

"Very good! Exactly right. Gravity increasing, pulling water up; light decreasing; and the moon in an earth sign, which is fertile and moist." Meredith handed her granddaughter several seed potatoes in a paper bag. "Do you remember how to cut them?"

Annie nodded. "At least two eyes per piece, planted six inches deep, eyes facing up. Then in a few weeks, after they sprout, we start to hill them."

"Right again, so make sure you leave plenty of space in between," Meredith reminded her.

Annie cut the potatoes carefully, then carried them out into the garden. Meredith followed her, shuffling slightly, carrying several seed packets. The hand tools they would be using today were already set out on the ground where they would be working this morning.

Meredith took a seat on a small bench nearby. It was getting too difficult, too painful for her to be down on her hands and knees in the garden. Her knees and hips protested nearly every step she took these days, not to mention her gnarled and knobby fingers were practically useless anymore.

She watched as her granddaughter worked expertly and efficiently in the soil. Even though it bothered her that old age was making it challenging to do her share of the household work, she swelled with contented pride in the knowledge that Annie was handling it all on her own: the gardening, the laundry, the cleaning, the errands, the cooking. And now she was working outside their home as well, learning about managing her money.

Annie could do it all.

In fact, she did do it all, without so much as a reminder from Meredith. Had been doing so for quite a while now. Annie was turning into quite a capable young woman, she mused proudly. And now that her granddaughter had turned things around at school, with the help of her dear friend Jane, Meredith was feeling more at ease, at peace with the fact that her own time was likely growing short.

It was something that had always worried her, from the day she had driven home from London in the borrowed car at age sixty with her newborn granddaughter beside her. Would there be enough time? Would she be able to teach Annie everything she needed to know? Could Meredith get her to the point of self-sufficiency before their time together was at an end?

It was a relief to know that for the most part, she had been successful. Annie was still terribly young, of course. No fifteen-year-old, no matter how mature and responsible, was prepared to be completely on her own. But Annie was close. And Meredith was feeling fine, despite the nagging arthritis, and still had several good years left in her, she reckoned. If I can just last a few more years... at least until she's of age....

"Annie, my darling girl, have you thought much about what sort of person you want to be, as an adult?" she asked her. She knew that Jane spoke with Annie often about planning for the future, regarding schooling and careers. It was Meredith's dearest ambition that Annie would go to university. So much so that she almost didn't care what else Annie did with her life, as long as she had a proper education. Perhaps that would prevent her from making the same mistakes her mother had made....

Annie paused, sitting back on her heels in thought. "You know, Gran... I have been thinking about that. I wish that... well, I wish that I had better control over my temper, for one thing. I'm tired of being so angry all the time, at everything. It's too hard... takes too much energy."

Meredith was surprised at the turn of the conversation. This wasn't what she had intended to talk about at all, but was indeed something she felt strongly about as well. She lamented the fact that Annie's hot-headedness had gotten her in so much trouble over the years. Not that her anger wasn't nearly always righteous; just that it was usually an overreaction. And so often caused her more pain than it ever avoided or relieved.

"Well, that's a valid point. A good knowledge of yourself will serve you well. Shows you've got a good head on your shoulders, if you can take an honest look at your own faults," she offered.

"I've got plenty of those, I'm afraid," Annie giggled and smiled at her Gran.

"We all do, my dear. For instance, I'm an unmitigated optimist, and often fail to notice a person taking advantage of me until it's too late. I guess I just always want to believe the best of everyone," Meredith confessed. She gazed off at the woods in the distance, thinking of her own daughter; missing her terribly once again. She didn't notice Annie guiltily looking down at the dirt.

"You're a good person, Gran. That's not a fault," Annie argued as she returned to working the soil.

"Even good traits can be faults, if they blind you to the truth. If you keep making the same mistakes in life because of them."

"Like me flying off the handle all the time," Annie agreed.

"That's one example," Meredith offered, though she had been thinking of something else entirely. "So what do you plan to do about that? Introspection does no good if it doesn't result in a plan of action."

"I think I've noticed that I'm better... calmer anyway... after I run. Or when I'm out here, in the garden. Would you agree, Gran?" she asked curiously.

Meredith pondered the question. "Yes, I think I would. This spring has been much better for you in that way. Maybe the physical activity helps burn some of that temper off," she teased her.

"Like the gas flare on a refinery tower?" Annie asked, giggling.

"Rather like that, I suppose," her Gran agreed, chuckling herself. "But you can't always run away from something that angers you."

"Jane recommends I try some self-calming techniques, like deep breaths, counting to ten, visualization...."

"Visualization?"

"Yeah," Annie chuckled. "But not the kind I usually do - envisioning beating the hell out of whoever is making me mad. She thinks I need to imagine I'm somewhere happy and relaxing, like the beach."

"Sounds like a load of waffle to me," muttered Meredith dubiously.

Annie nodded. "I agree. So far I can't picture myself anywhere else but exactly where I am. And the counting to ten... well, let's just say ten isn't nearly far enough for me to count to, usually. But the deep breaths do help a bit."

"That's good to know, I suppose. What other self-improvement suggestions does Jane have to offer you?" Meredith said, attempting to lead the conversation back to her original goal.

Annie smiled in understanding. "Jane also thinks I should be planning for university, Gran," she said as if reciting a lesson, half-teasing, half-ruefully.

"Wise beyond her years, that Jane," Meredith laughed. "Are you planning any such thing?"

"I do think about it - honestly, Gran," Annie assured her. "I just have no idea what to do with my life. So far, nothing feels like a calling."

"You don't have to start university with a career in mind, you know. Perhaps it'll come to you after you've got a few terms under your belt," Gran suggested.

"Or maybe I just need a few years to travel the world... experience what life has to offer," teased Annie. "You wouldn't mind footing the bill for that sort of invaluable education, would you Gran?"

"Pfft," Meredith snorted. "Fat chance, dearie. I'd spend every cent I had to my name to send you to the university of your choice through whatever graduate degree you choose to pursue, but I am not financing some fancy-free vacation!"

Annie laughed along with her Gran. "Point taken. Hand me the carrot seeds, will you? They aren't going to plant themselves, you know."

*

May 9, 1993

Dear Annie,

Things have gotten desperate here. Yesterday, while we were all preparing for our match against Hufflepuff, there was another attack. Two girls this time: a Ravenclaw prefect, and Ron's friend Hermione.

The match was cancelled before it even began. Campus has been shut down, and we are now being kept under lock and key. We are escorted as a group between our classes, and are shut into the Tower for the night as soon as dinner is over. As worried as we all are, it is absolutely maddening to be cooped up like this.

And it gets worse. Apparently this situation with the Chamber of Secrets happened once before (a long time ago), and Hagrid (the half-giant gamekeeper, remember?) was blamed for it then. He was later cleared of the charge, but now the Ministry wants to make a show of actually doing something about the recent attacks so they sent the poor bloke to Azkaban (wizard prison - nasty place, trust me).

Think that's all that can go wrong here? Not by half! That nasty piece of work Malfoy's father (and if you met the father you'd see where the son gets his personality) is on the school's governing board and they have all voted to sack Dumbledore. You remember him, the headmaster? Amazing fellow - incredibly powerful and clever to boot. To be honest, now that he's gone, I feel far less secure. I'm not the only one who feels that way, either.

Had enough bad news? Well I'm tired of writing it, so I'll sign off for now. Hope we see you soon.

Love,

George & Fred

*

May 20, 1993

Dear Fred & George,

That wasn't very nice of you. I sent you a humorous story, and you send me horror.

Please stay safe. Please come back to me in one piece.

Write again right away and let me know you are okay.

Love you more,

Annie

*

June 14, 1993

Dear Annie,

This rotten effing year is finally over. We'll be home soon and tell you everything. You probably won't believe it though. Meet us at the tree fort next Sunday.

Love,

George & Fred