Two Halves to a Hole

"I think we've outgrown our full time education..." murmured Harry, solemnly repeating Fred Weasley's infamous last words before blasting out of Hogwarts for the last time, leaving only Umbridge's futile screams in the twin's wake.

"Yea...not bad," agreed Ron, who stood at Harry's side, shading his eyes to get a better view of the building.

It was Hermione who interrupted their reverie: "Please. No matter how well their business is doing, Fred and George are ridiculous not to finish their education. Don't go giving them so much credit."

Ron exchanged a well-weathered 'she's at it again' look with Harry. "C'mon Hermione. They're making bloody oodles of galleons out here. Better'an being cooped up in classrooms all year long. I know I would much rather be--"

"Come off it, Ron!" interrupted Hermione. "What happens if this little investment burns down? Where will your brothers be then? Up the creek without a paddle is where. They won't get employed by anyone without a proper learning."

Ron snorted incredulously. 'Burns down? In Diagon Ally? You think like such a muggle sometimes, 'Mione."

Harry tuned out the familiar sounds of his two best friends bickering and turned back to examine the shop. He couldn't help but be impressed. An ultraviolet light encased the words "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes", and two giant eye balls were perched over the brightly-colored doorway, lolling about like those of a manic. In matching display cases, Weasley's Wildfire Wiz-Bangs continually looped and exploded in bouts of angry sparks. He smiled. No matter how Hermione chastised him, Harry was truly glad for the twin's success. It even made him feel a little proud, to see how his galleons had granted at least someone's wishes.

And as usual, the twin's antics helped put off his more serious feelings of pain, anger, and sadness. Their easy smiles and mischief allowed him to dim the ache in his heart left by Sirius's death, if only for a little while. Harry pushed back those impending emotions, and pushed open the door.

Wow. The vast arrays of Skiving Snackboxes, Deflaguation Deluxes, and Portable Swamp Kits that densely lined the walls were eye-catching to say the least. Harry could also see the colorful packaging of many newly-designed trick or treats as well, waiting to be ripped open and abused. The sheer number of bewitched hoaxes and crafty toys was beautiful enough to take his breath away. Several young wizards in the far corner glanced back at Harry, and quickly went back to their shopping. Upon regaining his senses, he noted how much the neurotic lay-out of the store resembled its owners. He absolutely loved it.

"Can I help you find anything?"

Harry looked for the owner of the voice, and was surprised to see that standing behind the desk was not one of the twins, but instead a girl who wore a short yellow raincoat and tie as if it were a suit. She smiled brightly.

"Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

"Oh!" piped Ron in a surprised tone. Apparently he and Hermione had ceased their arguing just long enough to follow their friends into the shop. The cashier flashed her teeth once more for the two of them and flipped back her braids.

"What? They're not even here?" Hermione asked, a hint of impatience seeping into her voice.

The counter girl looked confused and asked again if she could be of assistance.

"Er...my brothers. I think they own this shop..?" flustered Ron, clearly unnerved to speak to any strange girl, nonetheless a pretty one.

She cocked her head at the trio, and then looked back to Ron. Finally... "OH! I should have realized--you're a Weasley too, aren't you?" Are you George's little brother? You are, aren't you? 'Jon,' isn't it?"

"Ron," blushed the red head in question. George's little brother? What happened to Fred? wondered Harry.

"So, are Fred and George here or not?" asked Hermione.

"They sure are! Let me call them to the front for you," the girl chirped. She flipped a lid on her desk, and jabbed a button. Instantly, the air was filled with a supped up version of the song, "Witchy Woman." God, it was awful. This was supposed to alert the twins?

Ron took advantage of the deafening musak to lean over and whisper loudly to Hermione, "What's got your pointy hat in a twist?"

Hermione huffed back immediately: "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt you two ogling the goulashes off that girl. Don't think I won't ask your brothers what kind of business their trying to run with their hired help wearing a 'skirt' that short. "

Thank Goodness the twins appeared before Ron could respond with more then choking and a reddening of ears.

"Well, well, well...if it isn't The Boy Who Lived, The Girl Who Studied, and Widdle Weasley Junior." Fred's cheerful greeting met their ears as he and George entered through a back door, waving their arms empathically as if greeting the whole store.

George grabbed Ron in an over-the-top embrace as Fred snagged Harry and Hermione in both arms and clucked at them like a mother hen. The twins were wearing the same ultra-green dragon skin jackets they had the last time Harry had seen them, along with a T-shirt boldly pronouncing their store's name.

"I'm so happy I could just snog you all," proclaimed George.

"Very true, George. So, to what do we owe this pleasure, my little wizardlings?" Fred asked, and smiled down at Hermione.

Hermione, beside herself, smiled back up at the red-haired twin. Wait...

"Fred! What happened to your hair?" she gasped.

Harry twisted in Fred's grasp to get a better look. Sure enough, hi-energy streaks of blue now ran through the normally auburn locks.

"Yea, yea..." Fred answered, running his hand through it self-consciously.

"Moms gonna absolutely kill you when she sees that mess, mate," laughed Ron.

George laughed as well. "She's just gonna have to kill us then. Were still not wealthy enough to hire a bloke every time we need an experiment done. For this one, we were up until three in the morning working on it--"

"--four," interrupted Fred.

"Right, four. 'An who are we gonna find to take a dose at a time like that? So Fred bravely volunteered."

"What was it supposed to be for, anyway?" asked Hermione.

"A 'Fickle Flu.' It's supposed to turn you real pale and your tongue spotty so's to make you look real ill so you can get outta exams and the like. It worked, but it also did this," said Fred, pointing to his hair.

"Too little aim, too much pigment," murmured George in agreement.

Ron was clearly enjoying his brother's backfire. "Will it ever be normal again?"

"Of course, Ronny boy. Don't give your hopes up--it's a temporary spell. Should be back to normal in a few days," answered Fred casually.

"That's what you said two weeks ago," laughed George.

The five friends continued to visit; mostly poking fun and generally goofing off. They avoided all topics that were still to tender to talk about quite yet. So, nothing about Sirius, Percy, or the Order--just simple small talk. Harry explained how he had asked--no, told-the Dursleys he'd be visiting Diagon Ally early this summer with his friends. It was nice for Harry to be able to return to the ally without the hustle and bustle of back-to-school shoppers. The atmosphere was buzzed, but relaxed. Hermione took credit for the idea of meeting for lunch and a visit. "There is no reason we have to wait all summer to see each other, especially at this age," she had written Harry and Ron earlier.

Eventually, even the girl behind the counter, introduced only as Molly, had come over to join the conversation. She stood beaming with one hand tightly clasped to George's. Harry couldn't tell if this made Hermione more or less ticked about the cashier's appearance.

Of course, as of yet, Hermione hadn't voiced up any opinions on the matter, and was actually still standing under the arm of Fred, who didn't seem to mind her being his arm rest in the least. Harry watched Ron's face twitch whenever Fred squeezed Hermione's shoulders as he laughed, but Harry brushed it off. It was now obvious to Harry that his best friend seemed to care a little more about Hermione then he let on--but that was much too dramatic for Harry to focus on at the moment. His plate was currently full, and he'd decided to cross that bridge when he came to it. Watching Ron's mouth twitch again, Harry prayed that this certain bridge was far off in the future.

Eventually Molly brought them all butterbeers and sweets between her checking out customers. She seemed rather busy in her duties--Harry noticed the heavy flow of traffic in and out of the store. So after about a half-hour of chit chat, Harry brought it up: "Geez. Business for you guys really is booming. Do you have anyone besides Molly working here?"

George shook his head. "Nah. We need to find some more hands soon though, especially what with the heavy lifting. But we haven't had time for interviews, as you can see. It's been wild around here."

Harry smiled.

"What is it, mate?" asked Fred.

"I don't know about Ron or Hermione, but I'd be more then willing to put in couple days a week. You know, just if you need an extra pair of hands."

There was a silence as everyone turned to stare at Harry. Then, as if on cue, everyone started talking at once:

"That's bloody brilliant!"

"No way your mum would let you, Ron."

"The Dursleys would probably dance with joy to get me out of the house--"

"She would too."

"--it's much too rude to ask of such a thing from the twins, Harry."

"I wouldn't want pay or anything--just to get away from the Dursleys..."

"Don't be daft, Harry. We couldn't not pay anyone, especially you."

"Really. What would Dumbledore say about this madness?"
"He'd probably say, "Well done!" Harry'd still be living at home, so he'd still be protected--that's why it's so brilliant."

"You'd have to learn how to work everything in the shop, you know..."

"We would!"

"I dunno, Ron...you seem kinda puny to me..."

"Shuttup Fred! I'm stronger an' you."

"I think it's a fine idea."

The last words came from George. He glanced at his twin hurriedly. "I mean, if Fred agrees, it would save us a lot of time an' effort." Fred seemed deep in concentration, never taking his eyes off George; Harry knew that with a bond like theirs, a mute conversation was now flowing between them.

Then Fred shrugged. "It seems pretty daft not to, considering your willing and we need the help." George relaxed then, grinning at the trio.

"Yes!" cried Harry, overjoyed. A busy summer surrounded by his friends was just the thing to keep his mind off his woes.

Hermione tried not to look the faintest bit pleased. "Well, if we are going to participate in this silliness, Dumbledore will have to give you the "ok", Harry, as well the Dursleys. Ron, your mother and father will be harder to convince..."

"We, Hermione?" scoffed Ron, probably annoyed how often his parents kept being brought up. "What happened to--"

"Be quite Ron," interrupted Hermione, smiling a little bit now.

Fred clanked butterbeers with George and tipped the remnants into his mouth. "Okay then. You kids better get started with that if you want to be of any help to us before the summers out."

And they did. Harry quickly wrote a pleading note to Dumbledore, who agreed that Diagon Ally was a fairly safe haven for Harry, on the terms Harry was never to stray from the ally, and several protective spells were to be cast on store for added protection. Harry agreed quickly, realizing Dumbledore was so quick to concede because he probably felt a little guilty for the previous year.

Harry felt his own guilt for not yet telling the Dursleys that his possibly homicidal godfather had been killed. However, his wish to floo from their fireplace to work was granted a whole lot easier because of it. He'd tell them soon enough...

Hermione's parents were as welcome to the idea as every other unknown magical occurrence in their daughter's life; Ron's mum, as predicted, was the hardest to convince. Ron had to swear repeatedly on his death bed that he would not follow in his older brother's footsteps, and would indeed finish Hogwarts (the words "with flying colors" and "Head Boy" were thrown around).

After the initial negotiations were completed, Molly spent time tutoring all three of them individually on the mechanics of running the store. Ron and Harry would be working three days a week, emptying boxes and stacking shelves, while Hermione worked two, filling out orders and organizing paperwork. By the time the whole process was up and running, the blue was finally fading from Fred's hair, and everyone was on the same page.

Especially after the first week of bumbling about, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all knew the way of things. Harry greatly valued the time he was able to spend with his friends, and even enjoyed the physical labor aspect. He felt strong and with purpose; a feeling that kept him motivated day after day. Even Hermione seemed to be enthralled with her work; she was a wiz at the pushing papers, and seemed confident in her job. This left Molly behind the counter, and the twins doing what they wanted to be doing the most: inventing.

That's when it started.

George woke up. His eyes flicked open and he lay there, breathing into his sheets in a steady rhythm. Something was very wrong. Feeling it in his gut, he knew only this, so he tried to remain calm. At least he was in the right place: his bed in his bedroom adjoined to his brother's. These bedrooms were located above The Wheeze in a small but comfortable apartment overlooking Diagon Alley. George rolled over onto his side. Through the darkness, he could see Fred's four-poster, the heavy drapes hiding his twin's sleeping form.

The high windows reflected the moonbeams in pools of light against the curtains. It was a serene scene, but still the unease ached in George's chest. Slowly lowering his feet to the floor, George felt the smooth wood greet him with a familiar groan. Pushing himself off the bed, George knew that he wanted to awaken his twin. If any sense of dread had befallen George, then it was likely his brother was feeling the exact same. In fact, it was surprising that Fred was not already awake, pulling back the curtains and smiling to relieve George's nervousness.

George stumbled across his room and into Fred's, half asleep but waking a little more with each step. The silence was thickening around him--not just the muted night sky, but an utter lack noise or emotion. George had never liked the feeling of being alone; it was highly unnatural. But the wretched pain in his chest remained as he reached for the curtains. Something was very, very wrong with Fred if he had not woken up by now. He grabbed at the thick fabric desperately. Oh God. George almost cried out as he ripped back the curtains, already knowing that the bed would be as empty as this room. As this apartment. As this building. As this street.

He was very much alone.