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“It’s time for bed!” Mum’s voice echoed through the house. George put down the toy dragon he’d been playing with. His six year-old twin groaned loudly next to him. “It’s not even that late!”
Eight year-old Percy looked up from the book he had been reading on the couch. “Actually, it’s-” Fred cut him off. “No one asked!”
George rolled his eyes as the two dissolved into an argument. He watched Mum enter the room and he yawned. She stepped on one of their toys.
“Oh- Fred and George Weasley! Pick these up right now! When I say it’s time for bed, I mean it!” Fred whined. “But Mum-”
George tugged on Fred’s sleeve. “Fred, I’m tired.” All of the defiance on his twin’s face disappeared. “Okay, cleaning up!”
They picked up the toys and put them back into the box. Mum sighed, running a hand down her face. “Thank you. Now, why don’t you all go and brush your teeth? When you’re ready for bed, I’ll tell you a story!”
George’s eyes lit up. “Okay!” He dragged Fred upstairs to the bathroom.
Eventually, everyone was dressed in their pajamas. A three year-old Ginny was already fast asleep on Mum’s lap, while a four year-old Ron was dozing off against her side. Percy was sitting across from them, looking annoyed. George sat on the side of Mum opposite to Ron, while Fred sat next to him.
The atmosphere was comfortable as Mum began to speak. “A long time ago, there was a group of young witches and wizards traveling through an ancient forest. As they walked along a path, they heard a loud cry for help. So, being the good-hearted people they were, they went off the path to find out who it was.” The candles in the room flickered.
“The deeper they went into the forest, the stormier it was. Lightning flashed and thunder roared, but they kept on searching for a long time. Eventually, they were going to give up when suddenly, they reached a cliff. A tree had been hit by lightning and knocked over. It was hanging over the edge of the cliff, and on that tree were the ones who were crying out for help.”
George leaned forward eagerly and Fred cut in. “Who was it?” Percy shushed them both.
Mum looked amused, before making her expression go serious again. “On the tree, was a nest of newborn phoenixes.” Ron gasped dramatically. The older three glared at him. “Shhhh!”
“The group worked quickly. They needed to save the nest before it fell, so they worked together to pull the tree to safety. After they saved the nest, a large phoenix appeared. Because of how pure their hearts were, she blessed them with fiery red hair.”
“Like ours!” George exclaimed. Mum ran her hand through his hair. “Yes, just like ours. When they eventually settled down and had children, the kids almost always had that same red hair, and when those kids were around adulthood, they grew beautiful phoenix wings. Those children were called Phoenix-borns.”
“But as time went on, people began to grow jealous of their wings. They believed that Phoenix-horns had the key to immortality, and they wanted it for themselves.”
Eight year-old George gripped Fred’s hand tightly. Five year-old Ginny was curled up against his side. “These people became hunters. They’d find phoenix-borns and take them away! It caused the rest of them to wear special glamours to hide their wings.”
“That hardly stopped the hunters though. Most phoenix-borns died out over the centuries because of them. Now all that’s left are stories like this one, passed on from generation to generation.” Mum’s voice was low.
Ten year-old George sat there, wide awake. Fred was fast asleep on his shoulder and Ginny on his lap. Ron was curled up around a pillow, snoring. “They’re meant as a warning. Hunters are still around to this day, despite the Ministry declaring phoenix-borns extinct. You never know when one of us may pass down the gene. We just have to be ready, so we aren’t taken like those before us.”
“Having your wings taken by a hunter isn’t a death sentence, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t torture.” Mum’s voice was deadly serious. The room was eerily still, the only movement being from dad’s copy of daily prophet. An article titled ‘PHOENIX-BORN DISCOVERED IN SCOTLAND’ took up the front page.
Eleven year-old George’s stomach churned. He wasn’t interested in eating breakfast anymore. Mum continued. “Phoenix-borns grow their wings back, much like how a Phoenix is reborn. Growing your wings in is a painful process, and having it done multiple times doesn’t make it easier. It makes it worse. Our bodies aren’t meant to be able to handle it. The wings would grow back worse and worse each time.”
Thirteen year-old George grinned as he flew laps around the quidditch pitch. He really loved flying. He wondered if that had something to do with his heritage. Hopefully it didn’t, George would prefer to have as little connection to that as possible.
Fifteen year-old George Weasley paced back and forth in the bathroom, refusing to look at his reflection. His hands shook as he struggled to catch his breath.
This couldn’t be happening.
The sun hadn’t even risen yet, when he woke up feeling weird. George had just shrugged it off and went to the bathroom. He’d been washing his hands when he noticed his reflection. Red feathers were behind his ears.
George had been panicking since. He knew the stories about what happened to people who grew feathers. He never thought he’d be one of them.
No wonder his ears had been itchy recently.
George dug his fingers into his palms. He forced himself to take a deep breath. It was just a couple of feathers. He was fine. It wasn’t as if he’d grown wings or something.
However.. there was no way of knowing that he wouldn’t grow wings when he was older, was there? That thought made him spiral again. George leaned back against the bathroom door and slid down to the ground.
What was happening to him? Normally he wasn’t so anxious. He was George Weasley of all people! This wasn’t like him at all.
He shook his head, trying to think about something other than the feathers behind his ears. What would Fred think of it? Because of this, they weren’t identical anymore. The thought made George feel sick.
Why was it that he of all people had to be the first Weasley in centuries to show signs of being a phoenix-born? It could have been anyone else!
It took George ten minutes to finally calm down. He felt lightheaded. Eventually, he gathered the strength to stand up and leave the bathroom. He switched the light off, bathing him in darkness. The only light was the small slivers of sun beginning to peak out beyond the horizon.
George distantly heard Mum shuffling downstairs in the kitchen. Against his will, George began to make his way downstairs. He stopped right out of view of the kitchen and just listened to the sound of Mum starting breakfast.
He covered his ears shakily, gathering the courage to enter the room. He slipped inside after a moment. “M-Mum?”
Mum hardly glanced up at him, busy with the dishes. “What are you doing up so early, Fred?” George swallowed thickly.
“I-I.. I’m not Fred.” George uncovered his ears. “Oh, I’m sorry dear.” Mum looked up at him and froze.
His eyes watered. “Mum.. I-I’m scared.”
“Oh, George..!”
Mum had cast a stasis charm on the stove and ushered him into her and Dad’s room. Dad had been deep asleep when Mum woke him up. George just sat on the bed, his hands trembling while they frantically discussed what they should do.
George had always been scared of becoming a phoenix-born when he was little. He’d never been fooled by how ‘cool’ it sounded like Fred and the rest of his siblings. Percy had been the only other one of them that seemed to understand how serious being descended from phoenix-borns really was.
Tears spilled onto his cheeks. The universe was playing a prank on him. Why couldn’t it have been one of his siblings who’d actually wanted it instead of him? He locked eyes with his reflection across the room.
The feathers were beautiful. The sight of them made his heart sing, which in turn made him sick. They weren’t supposed to be there, but they were. Oh Merlin, they were coming out of him.
George pulled his knees up to his chest and tugged on the feathers. Maybe it was a fluke and they wouldn’t grow back.
Suddenly there were hands on his, gently prying them away from his ears. George looked up, his vision blurry with tears. He hiccuped out a soft sob as he met his mum’s teary eyes. “Please don’t.. don’t do that George..!”
George squeezed his eyes shut tightly. This wasn’t fair, but he now understood why he was the one who grew them. If Fred had grown feathers, he’d be reckless. George wasn’t reckless like his twin though. He was the one that reigned Fred in whenever he wanted to do something a little bit too crazy after all.
He didn’t want feathers, so it’d be easier for him to hide them. He would be ashamed of them, he’d be scared of them, and he’d never tell a soul about them.
Mum’s words interrupted his thoughts. “George.. do you want us to go get Fred-?” George’s eyes widened. “No! Don’t tell Fred!”
His parents looked shocked. Dad spoke, his voice gentle. “Why not?” His lips trembled. “I.. I..” Why didn’t he want Fred to know again?
George was silent for a moment, and Dad put his hand on the twin’s shoulder. “Talk to us George..”
He swallowed thickly. “B-Because.. Fred won’t understand.. but he always understands, so he won’t realize it at first.” His parents shared a confused look. George looked away. “He’ll feel guilty when it’s not his fault.”
Mum opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to object, before sighing. Her shoulders slumped. “Okay.. but you should tell him at some point, alright?”
George looked away. “I will.” The lie felt bitter on his tongue.
That breakfast, George forced himself to eat like normal. Mum had given him a simple necklace enchanted to hide any signs of him being a phoenix-born. It was apparently passed down in her family as an heirloom, just in case someone ended up a phoenix-born. It was only able to be taken off by the wearer, so no one could ever find out what was hidden beneath the enchantments.
The events from that morning were nearly forgotten when the news that they were going to Egypt to visit Bill was revealed. George forced himself to laugh.
Surely everything would be fine.