Chapter Text
Prologue : The One Left Behind
Diagon Alley, London, 1 April 2000
The store was as lively and as busy as it had ever been, young wizards and witches looking through the diverse products Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes offered. April Fool’s Day was, after all, the store’s biggest day. It was enough to make a mischief lover’s heart soar, and if there was one thing George Weasley loved, it was to share his passion for pranks… No, that was no longer true. He had once loved it but not anymore. The Dark Lord had changed all of that two years ago when he had attacked Hogwarts, when the Second Wizarding War had broken out. His twin brother, Fred, had been one of the far too numerous casualties and, in his death, he had taken George’s passion with him.
Perhaps he should have closed the shop for a while as his family had urged him, to give himself proper time to grieve. But, so far, had refused to do it. Despite his own personal lack of enthusiasm, he knew the wizarding community needed the somewhat unique service he provided. Voldemort was dead, defeated once and for all, and people needed to laugh again, they needed to merrily go about their lives. What better way than through mischief and pranking. How he wished he could do the same but without Fred, there was no fun in playing jokes on people anymore…
“Excuse me. Where can I find Shimmering Silver Salt Drops?” He plastered a cheerful smile on his face and turned to the young witch. He had become adept at pretending.
“Up the stairs to the left, fifth section, third shelf,” he said, the girl giving him a timid ‘thank you’ before making her way to the high mezzanine. His smile faded as soon as her back was turned. Fred had always teased him about telling customers where to exactly find what they were looking for.
“Let them search, George,” this one had told him every single time. “That way, they discover new things and end up buying them. Honestly, what would you do without me?”
Unlike the shop, he was doing poorly without Fred. Where his family had slowly started to go on with their lives, he had barely enough energy to get up in the morning, tend to the shop and then go back to bed in the evening. An endless monotone excuse for a life. More than once he laid in bed contemplating ending it all. The pain was still as all consuming as that dreadful night. He felt uprooted, lost and so very alone. Just going through the motions of having a normal conversation was often too much. Fred had been such an integral part of himself, of his personality that his absence had left nothing but a void and today, of all days, he felt it even more keenly. It was the second birthday he would spend without his twin. Though he wanted nothing more than to just shut everything out, shut himself off to make the pain more bearable, here he was instead, tending the store as he always did.
“Hey George!” Once more plastering a smile on his face, George turned to his younger brother.
“Aw, Ickle Ronnikins the great Auror has come to grace my modest shop with his presence!” he mocked, Ron’s face turning briefly petulant before his usual somewhat goofy smile graced his lips. It was still a wonder how someone like him had caught Hermione’s attention.
“Mum wanted to know if you’re planning on closing the shop early and at what time she’ll be expecting you home. I mean, this being your birthday and all.” He resisted the urge to snarl. He knew his family’s intentions were good but they were suffocating him, their pitying gaze never failing to make him want to curse the whole lot of them. All he wanted was to be left alone!
“I don’t rightly know,” he finally answered, his hand going to rub his mangled left ear, a gift from Severus Snape on the night they had tried to confuse the Death Eaters by pretending to be Harry Potter. There had been nothing to be done, the curse used by the wizard unable to be healed, the counter curse still unknown no matter how much Hermione and his brother Bill had tried to find one. He did not mind it so much. It was a physical reminder of those dark days and, truly, the loss of an ear paled in comparison to losing Fred. Furthermore, it made it slightly more bearable for him to look in the mirror. It was a reminder that the reflection was his own and not him looking at his brother.
“Well mum’s been growing restless with you not coming to visit or even give news.”
“What are you babbling on about! I’ve talked to her last week… or was it two weeks ago?”
“Try more than a month, George. I know it’s hard but you could make more of an effort, you know! Mum’s really worried—”
“Get off my case, Ron!” he shouted heatedly. The customers all stopped and turned to watch him in shock. Even his brother seemed speechless. He briefly closed his eyes and strove to calm himself. “I’m sorry,” he added after a moment. “I’m tired and haven’t taken the time to eat. Listen, do you mind looking after things here just a few so I can go to the Leaky Cauldron and grab myself something to nosh?”
“Sure, George, I don’t mind,” his younger brother whispered with a tentative smile. Without saying anything more, he grabbed his long coat and walked out onto Diagon Alley. He had loved the store from the very moment it had opened its doors, working side by side with Fred, creating new pranks and spells, he had wanted nothing more in his life than that. He had felt complete. But now it suffocated him as much as his family. He knew they had good intention but he nevertheless felt smothered. He just wanted to wallow in peace. Why could they not understand that? Why did they try to force him to come to grips with Fred’s death?
The more he ruminated those thoughts, the more he just wanted it all to be over. It was with that frame of mind that he entered the Leaky Cauldron, the wizarding pub and inn that served as the gateway between the Muggle world and Diagon Alley.
“Ah! George! Been a while since I last saw you!” he heard Hannah Abbott call out. She had taken ownership of the inn last year… or maybe it was two years ago? George did not really remember nor did he care to. He simply walked straight across the common room looking neither left nor right. Ignoring those who called out to him, he threw the door opened and, without hesitation, stepped onto the streets of London. He did not overly think about what he was doing. He just wanted to put as much distance between himself and everything that reminded him of his twin.
His hands tucked in his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched, he resolutely made his way towards the Thames seeking peace from it all.