Two Halves to a Hole

The next morning, Harry made his way down the Diagon Ally with his breakfast in a hand: a warm roll and cuppa from the Leaky Couldran. This luxury was afforded to him due to his very first paycheck: something the Dursleys could not stop him from enjoying on his days away from Pivot Drive. Even though his vault at Gringots was never short on galleons, something felt good about earning and using his own knuts and sickles. Harry quickly reached Weasley's Wizarding Weazes and paused, balancing his cup and stuffing the roll into his mouth, trying to fish out the keys from his pocket to open the store. As soon as he got the key between his thumb and forefinger, the front door swung open. Harry looked up, surprised to see Hermione's staring at him from the doorway. She looked tense.

"What are you doing here, 'Mione?' Harry tried to look unconcerned. But it's a Tuesday. Nobody should be here for another hour...I'm the first to open shop today, aren't I?

Hermione didn't answer; instead she pushed the door back, revealing the inside of the store; George was perched atop the counter.

"Come on in, Harry. We're not going to open up for a little while," George said. Harry stepped inside, looking from his best friend to the red head. Harry remained silent as he tried to assess the situation. Obviously, something was wrong--and one of the somethings being the sullen look on George's face. Nothing had ever looked more unnatural. But then there was the more pressing matter of...

"Um...where's Fred?" asked Harry. He rarely, if perhaps ever, saw one twin without the other present. His scar prickled when he saw the reaction the question immediately evoked on George's face. The twin looked as if he had been slapped, drew in his legs, and looked away.

Okay then...Harry turned to Hermione, who was wearing an identical expression.

"Who died?" he mouthed. She looked like she wanted to thwack him, but at that moment Ron fell in the room.

"Okay, then--I've just talked to mum, and she's writing Dumbledore immediately. Maybe he's heard something--she sounded pretty frantic, but you know mum...looks as if she's going to have the whole Order out on patrol whether they like it or--Oh! Hey Harry," Ron panted, greeting his friend with a head nod. "I guess you've heard."

"No, actually, I haven't." Harry looked towards Hermione and George, a little annoyance creeping into his voice.

George slipped off the counter, and walked off towards the back of the store. Harry couldn't stand it anymore.

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" he asked.

"Fred's gone missing, Harry." answered Ron, sitting down to take a breather.

"Come again?"

"It's true," answered Hermione. "He disappeared last night. George woke up and Fred wasn't there." Harry considered this for a moment.

"The twins have done stranger things, you know," he said.

"Right, Harry--the twins have done stranger things. But together, not by themselves. George doesn't have a clue where Fred could be". Hermione lowered her voice so just Ron and Harry could hear her: "To be honest, I don't think George is handling this very well. Its hard for us to imagine what is would be like without a twin we don't have--"

"--I do admit this is a bit queer for Fred, but it's not beyond him to stage something like this," interrupted Ron. "That dunderhead's always been the ringleader anyway." Hermione gave him a look. "Look, I'm just saying I know my brother. Lets not get too carried away until we have more to go on."

Harry was still a little stunned. No Fred? What could have happened to him? Or is he up to something? It was too hard to think of something happening to the missing twin that he didn't want to happen. He and George were always in such control.

"No, Ron, I am most certainly not saying that Voldemort's winged monkeys swept down and devoured Fred Weasley! I'm just saying that we have to consider all the possibilities...it's a dangerous time to be working with Dumbledore...what? I said "winged monkeys"...oh, just never mind," Hermione huffed, ending an argument Ron and her had been having for the past five minutes.

She had finally decided to open the store since George had not reappeared from the depths of the shop, and was currently checking out a customer.

Harry had started going about his daily duties, and was in the middle of unpacking a new order of Ton-Tongue Toffees when he first noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on the table. He supposed someone had brought it in with them early this morning, and had forgotten all about it. Finishing with the last toffee, Harry picked up the newspaper and read the most prominent headline. For the love of...

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry yelled, interrupting their newly fueled argument. They both glanced up at him as he scanned the Prophet.

"Oh, bloody hell. What is it now?" Ron asked. Harry threw down the paper angrily.

"Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban."

"Already?" Ron groaned.

Hermione handed a customer their receipt and came around to join the boys.

"Don't be surprised you two. Even Draco knew his dad would be out in a matter of time."

"God, that little git. He's going to be blooming unbearable," said Ron.

'That's not what we should be worrying about," Hermione chastised,though more weary then usual. "It's going to be a very, very dangerous year for everyone, especially for us and the rest of the Order. Voldemort is more powerful then he's been in years, and he's seen most of the Order in person now. It should have been obvious his next step was to start rounding up his minions. I just hope..."she stopped.

Harry did his best impression of a smile, trying to comfort her. "I'm sure Fred is safe, Hermione. I seriously doubt this is connected to him."

Ron nodded strongly in agreement. "Besides, if my brother did run into Lucius Malfoy, he'd shove a Canary Cream right up his arse and watch him sprout feathers like a bloody Rooster."

Hermione and Harry stared long and hard at Ron before bursting out into much-needed laughter over the mental image. He's probably right, thought Hermione. Fred can take care of himself.

Of course, George was a different twin all together. Over the next few days he regained his friendly composure towards the trio, but he still kept mostly to himself. It was just too strange to act normally when his brother-his other half-wasn't right beside him at all times. It wasn't in George's nature to be morbid or non-talkative, but it was just unreal to be these things without Fred. The worst was at night when George was alone in the flat. The silence was absolutely unbearable.

The only reason he didn't return to The Burrow was because of Hermione, Harry, and Ron. They kept thinking positive, and this was enough to sustain George. And Fred would be so disappointed if he knew how keen I was to run crying home to mum and dad. He couldn't bring himself to continue any of their inventions and left the customers to the trio, and spent most of his time communicating with the Order. The Order had kept their eyes (all real and some magically inclines) peeled, but not even a drop of news had leaked out.

Molly, his girlfriend, had done her best to keep him active and cheery, staying after work for several hours and keeping him company. It was much appreciated by George, but it still a little weary. It took so much effort to speak to someone who didn't know your every feeling, your very next thought. But it was all he had, and he was grateful.

Five nights after the one Fred disappeared, Molly had come over to the flat, bringing fish and chips with some butterbeer. They had finished dinner and sat at the small dining table, talking. Molly reached across the table and took George's hands in her own, repeating her favorite saying these days: "you know, you don't have to be cheerful all the time, George. You can be honest. I'll understand." George felt himself smile back and squeezed her hands.

"Hey...Oh--sorry," said Fred, leaning in the kitchen doorway. "Didn't mean to interrupt." He pushed himself away from the wall and started away from the kitchen.

George gaped. He stared at Molly who stared back with an identical look of shock on her face. The he was out of his seat before Fred could pass under the doorway.

"FRED!" George yelled, grabbing his twin by the arm. This familiar feeling and George became even more delirious. This is actually real. Fred looked back with a sleepy look on his face.

"What is it? I'm tired and I've got to use the loo."

George just stared. Behind him, he heard Molly letting herself out. She was a very sensible raincoat-wearing girl. He had to give her that.

"Fred--you've been gone for an entire week! Ive been shitting knickers not knowing where you'd gone! Are you alright? What happened toyou?" Everything George was saying came out as a yell, but he didn't care.

Fred shook off his brother's grasp. "Budge up, George. I've just been out."

"In the middle of the night? That's not good enough! Everyone's been worried bloody ill over you! I can't believe you didn't tell me--!"

"George, you're really starting to bother me," Fred interrupted in a low tone that was unfamiliar to George. Unfamiliar? Is that really possible?

Fred kept a stern gaze on George before finally sighing and relaxing his shoulders. "Listen. I don't mean to be cross with you. I'm just really tired. I've just been out and about. I traveled a little, you know. We're not attached at the waist, you know--we can do separate things," Fred laughed. George wasn't even smiling. "Anyway," he continued, "I'll tell you all about it later, ok? And as for the 'everyone' you told that I had apparently 'gone missing', I'm not mad at you about, ok? I forgive you. We can fix that in the morning. I admit I was daft in not telling you I was planning to be absent for a few days. Now, I'm heading to bed." He turned to go.

You forgive me? Me?? George recognized that a whole lot of what Fred was saying was failing logically, but he was more concerned with other things. Just one example: had Fred completely lost his mind? How could the two of them be thinking so differently? Why couldn't George read Fred like a book? Was he just out of practice? Could George actually be in the wrong? But an even stronger emotion that practically burst from his chest was...

"Fred!" he called once again. Fred stopped and looked back at his twin with such weary disdain that George almost wanted to ask for forgiveness.

"What now?" breathed Fred.

"You...you look different." George tried to remain neutral while saying this, like he meant it in a good way, but he felt despairingly. It wasn't much of a difference--something he doubted others would notice at all. But his twin's hair was a mite shorter, edgier, and even his eyes seemed a little lighter...or was is darker? It was enough of a change for George to know he wasn't included in it.

Fred seemed seriously consider the statement, looking at George very hard before replying:

"Yea. I guess. Goodnight." He finally headed upstairs.

George looked at his watch; only five minutes ago he had been so worried sick about other half he thought he could very possibly die. Now he knew was Fred was alive and well. He wasn't sure when he was better off.

In the middle of the night, George woke up again. This time he wasted no time in making it to his brother's bed. He squeaked across the wooden floor and drew back the heavy curtains around the four poster. This time Fred lay there asleep, looking for all the world like the brother George remembered. George watched him slowly breathing in and out. Maybe I really was too hasty in sounding the alarm. Maybe this is how Fred is going to act as an adult. Maybe this is how I'm supposed to act now. It just seems so wrong, though...George felt the ache behind his eyes return. He had ignored it for going on four years, and this time was no different. Fred taught him crying didn't solve anything. You should much rather laugh about it. That was the real truth.

George slowly lowered himself onto Fred's mattress, lying still and apart from his brother. He felt his other half sleeping, filling the silence, and that was enough for him. Maybe this can be enough. I'm just so glad he's back...George felt the weight of his brother's hand rest atop his head for a moment. Then Fred turned over onto his side and went back to sleep.