Work Text:
They understood their parent’s struggle, you see, and this is why when they were left stranded in the middle of the wood for the third time – the twins decided not to return home. Fred and George remembered the first time vividly. The house smelled of dirty, stagnant water. It had been shared between the siblings for quickly rinsing their bodies before bed. They were sneaking to get a glass of cold water when they had overheard their parents say they would escort them to the thick woods near their home under the guise of gathering wrinkled berries for dinner: “We have many sons and the twins would do better together.”
At first, the boys were scared. Of course, they would be! After all, Fred and George are only twelve years old. A child cannot realistically survive without parents at that age. So when they went to the wood the first time, they hung glow in the dark necklaces in the brush and bushes to guide their way back once the sun finally set. Their parents were surprised to see them in the morning and made excuses for their actions. Their father was apologetic and begged their mother to reconsider.
But she made another attempt only a few days later, and this time was almost clever – the boys were sent on an errand, and were told to cut through the woods. As they traveled, they realized that their water tasted funny and it made them sluggish. After realizing that there was a sleep aid in their water bottles, Fred and George began back towards their house and slept in the shed, worming their way back into the house when they woke the next morning – just in time for breakfast!
Their mother had had enough, though, and would see to it that the twins were gone for good this time. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took them camping in the woods, an absurd number of supplies to survive with left behind. It was no shock when they disappeared in the night. Fred accepted and understood that this was it; his parents wanted to be rid of them. George was enraged, as any child should be, wouldn’t you agree, and he growled his frustration. “Why did they have more children if they could not care for them?”
“Why indeed,” Fred had countered, somber but determined to carry on.
George huffed. “There’s one thing that they got right in all this, at least.”
Fred smiled. He knew what his brother meant, and they said together: “We are better together.”
They packed their things into the bags their parents had left behind. Even though they could easily find their way back home, the desire to do so was gone. The twins wanted to succeed on their own. Together they walked in the opposite direction of their patched-together cottage, the one his family always called the ‘Burrow.’
Initially, the road was easy-going. The early days were not bad at all. Fred and George played in the trees, dug up neat rocks, and found firewood for their nighttime meals, which usually consisted of blistered berries and a shared helping of whatever dried meat they had in their backpacks. These days made it seem like the twins could take on the world. The words ‘failure’ and ‘struggle’ did not cross their minds.
And neither did ‘danger,’ but they were young. In our youth, we are ignorant to different aspects of the world around us. For our twins, Fred and George, this ignorance was anything but bliss.
About one week into their forced independence, Fred and George started to see that they weren’t as prepared for the darker side of being parent-free as they thought. When the beef jerky ran low, they skipped days for eating it. When that still left them with next to nothing to eat, each of their stomachs growled in protest as they begun skipping lunch to conserve supplies even further.
After nearly a month traveling through the deepest parts of the wood, further from home than they could even fathom, starvation threatened them with delirium. George had said to Fred, “I cannot promise I will not eat you if I go much longer without proper food.”
Fred chuckled in reply. “I cannot promise that either.”
The brothers shared in the frank sarcasm that tasted too real on their dried lips.
Just then a delicious scent wafted through with the light breeze. Fred’s attention was caught first, the wind hitting his face directly, rather than what wrapped around George’s face. “Do you smell that?”
“Is that…?” George’s voice trailed.
“Treacle tarts!” they cheered.
No hesitation followed. The twins jumped to their feet with their belongings and chased after the warm fragrance of the baked goods. It lured them ever closer to the secluded pink-painted cabin of the wicked witch, Dolores Umbridge.
Umbridge was a fiery spirit, but not in the way that left people watching her in awe. No. She was absolutely insane and followed rules only it suited her, which made usually made others miserable. When she’d been driven away from her home and prestigious job in the city, she settled in the woods to avoid ever seeing another living person again.
Alas, the humans would still wander through from time-to-time, and they always attracted her babies’ attention. They mewed at the windows, yowled through the night when they could smell their sweaty bodies resting just at the edge of her property, and purred when they would inevitably knock at her cabin door seeking first aid or directions. In the end, Umbridge always favored the needs of her cats over the needs of strangers - strangers who would inevitably hate her for some petty reason.
And so they became cat food.
Fred and George fell into the same trap as the others, though it was never actually a trap. Umbridge didn’t intend for it to happen; it was never planned. People just showed up; usually adults, though, never children. Her cats clawed at the door, their teeth barred as they growled in manic hunger. It was obvious to Umbridge that her children yearned for the youthful flesh racing towards her front door.
“I shall invite them in promptly, but you must behave, my darlings,” Umbridge purred said in a grumpy tone. It was the only indicator of her mood since her plump face remained jovial in appearance with a matching ear-to-ear grin. Her bouncing curls made her enthusiastic gait unbearable to watch.
Fred and George shouted from their side of the door to the woman inside. “We’ve been abandoned by our parents and we are without food, sir or madam!”
“We can’t help but smell the food you’re baking, might you share some with us?”
The boys were desperate. Every cat Umbridge contained in her home rushed to the door, nearly knocking the fat witch off her vibrant white heels. It only took one snap of her fingers to send the felines a scatter so that she could invite Fred and George into her perfect palace of privacy.
“You poor children,” she hissed through her curled lips. She despised children, but especially these sorts. Even in their apparent despair, they were excitable. No meat clung to their bones. All knobby and lanky, Umbridge decided she would have to serve them a stew with a fattening drought. It would be no trouble, but she’d have to – ugh – share her treacle tarts. Umbridge tucked her chin and gestured to her sitting room. “Please come in while I go tend the oven. I’ll get a glass of milk for you each as well, yes?”
Fred and George had nodded so vigorously that it made them dizzy. Smug and more patient that she’d thought, Umbridge watched the twins sidle their way to her couch with a plan already formed in her mind.
Little did she know, however, that our twins were abandoned sons of magical parents who couldn’t afford to send them to school to hone their skill. Though their abilities weren’t apparent, they most often used in the silliest ways – generally in the craft of a prank of trick. Still, the boys knew magic when they saw it – and they could feel magic when it was in their presence. It wasn’t until they had sat on the couch that they took inventory of the cabin’s décor: moving pictures, rare herbs hanging from planters on the ceiling, and books written in runes stacked on every side table.
“Fred,” George whispered.
“George,” Fred whispered back.
“Methinks that there is something amiss,” George stated plainly, pointing out every odd detail with his pointed gaze. Fred understood. Without saying it aloud, the boys realized that their lives could very possibly be at risk. Regardless of the obstacle ahead of them, Fred and George knew the same thing that their parents did: they were better together.
Fred and George didn’t even break a sweat outsmarting their pompous pink captor either….