Harry followed George upstairs until they reached George’s bedroom. Opening the door, George went straight to the window and climbed through it, gesturing for Harry to follow before disappearing around a corner.
They sat on the roof just above the window. From this vantage point, Harry could see the vast field stretched out before them. It was quiet and peaceful. He let the summer breeze brush his face and calm him slightly.
“Welcome to my sanctuary,” George said, handing Harry a bottle of butterbeer. “Fred and I spent most of our time up here, thinking up ideas for the shop or just escaping Mum’s wrath.”
Harry grinned, remembering the time Mrs. Weasley had been fuming, searching for the vanished twins. Of course, they had eventually given up waiting and the twins reappeared on their own later, Mrs. Weasley’s anger was forgotten.
“It’s wonderful to be out here where it’s so peaceful,” Harry remarked, surprised that he couldn’t even hear the gnomes hiding underneath the rose bushes.
“It’s lovely to have someone to share this spot with once more, so I thank you,” George replied, a hint of nostalgia in his faint smile. “So how are things, Harry? Anything new happening lately?” he continued eagerly, gazing up at the open sky.
“Nothing much planned at present. I was hoping to simply rest for a while,” Harry responded.
“The pressure must be too much as the savior of the wizarding world. The expectations placed on you must feel endless. Rumors say that you’ll be the youngest Minister of Magic, with Stan Shunpike as your deputy if he fails to secure the role himself. I overheard such outrageous claims recently at the Leaky Cauldron, surely Stan was speaking to impress others as he’s done before. You’re no stranger to his crazy tales.”
“Yeah, no doubt it was him,” Harry said, recalling Stan’s previous outrageous and false claims after the Quidditch World Cup, when he had bragged about becoming the next Minister in a failed attempt to impress the people around him. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s made those claims. Trying to impress more veela, I suppose?”
“I don’t know... he must’ve been,” George said thoughtfully. “But he’s not the brightest, is he? Still making those claims after the trouble he caused at the Ministry.”
Harry defended him, “It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t really understand what he was doing at the time.”
“Yeah... but he’s still a stupid bloke. So, you’re not planning to be a Minister, then?” George asked, genuinely grinning unlike before.
Harry stared at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Why would I want more fame piled on my plate? I can barely go out without people gawking at me like I’m in a zoo.”
George exhaled in relief. “Phew! I bet Angelina you’d say no if asked to join a Quidditch team and would rather be Seeker. Good news, right?” He grinned.
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would I play Quidditch?”
“Who wouldn’t? It’s Quidditch!” George cried incredulously, eyeing Harry over his drink. “Didn’t Ginny mention to you that she wanted to join the Holyhead Harpies someday?”
Harry shook his head. “She hasn’t told me that.”
“Well, don’t let me spoil the fun. It’s really great and all... and I’m proud of my sister. So proud!”
Harry spoke the words thoughtfully, “‘You start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.’ That’s how Ginny described the influence of growing up with you and Fred. I couldn’t agree more—you’ve shown her that courage and determination can make the impossible possible.”
George beamed at Harry and said, “I admit Fred and I were a bit snarky and sarcastic with you—but it was our awkward way of showing we cared about our sister’s suitor. We wanted to make sure any lad interested in Ginny was worthy of her. And I can see now you clearly are.”
Harry looked stunned, as if hit with a Bludger. He suppressed the urge to blush, having wrestled for years with his feelings for Ginny and worrying what Ron would think. Now he realized he had George to win over too.
George gave Harry a knowing nod, indicating reluctant acceptance of his decision.
“Just don’t break her heart,” George advised him. “Ginny’s Bat-Bogey Hex is legendary… you know that, right?”
“I’m aware of it,” Harry muttered, trying to sound casual despite his fear that Ginny might hex him if she ever learned the secret of his tainted soul.
“She’s very private about her love life,” admitted George. “She probably thinks Fred and I would play a prank on her. I don’t blame her for not trusting us. You should be careful now,” he jokingly warned Harry.
Taking it as a cue, Harry resolved to watch out for George’s tricks reserved just for him.
“You’re right, I should be careful,” Harry agreed. “I don’t want to be throttled by a red-headed wizard.”
George smirked and patted Harry on the back, saying, “That’s my boy,” before taking another sip of his drink.
“So how are you and Angelina?” Harry asked, causing George to cough suddenly in surprise.
“Now, now… don’t pry into my love life, young man,” George chided playfully.
They both laughed heartily at the exchange.
George cleared his throat, turning serious. “Actually, I intend to propose to her. And—” He held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to interject—” “believe it or not, I’m quite serious about this.”
“Well, I’m happy for you,” Harry said sincerely.
George gave an appreciative nod. “Marrying her would be the best decision of my life. I love making her laugh with my jokes.” He took a deep breath and went on, “She’s my source of comfort and stability, now more than ever after… well, you know...” His voice trailed off as a swell of emotion rendered him unable to continue, but Harry understood completely.
A brief silence fell between them as their gazes drifted across the vast night sky.
“I wanted to get this off my chest, but—” Harry faltered.
“—But you don’t want to worry your friends?” George finished knowingly.
Harry gave a short nod of confirmation.
“I understand,” George said sympathetically. “There’s nothing wrong with setting boundaries. I used to think that way too until Fred helped me realize I can also trust others, as long as I’m honest. Since then, I’ve noticed people confide in me more easily. I used to think it was just coincidence - being in the right place at the right time.”
“Was it?” Harry asked.
“No,” George replied. “I realized I’m blessed with good looks and a likable personality that make people want to open up to me. Seriously, Harry, if I had known that from the start, I could have avoided so much unnecessary drama.”
Harry sniggered and laughed. It was a good thing he wasn’t drinking his butterbeer at the time, or else he would be choking. “I find that hard to believe—” Harry muttered under his breath, but stifled himself when George shot him a stern look. “I meant the drama part,” Harry amended mid-sentence in response to George’s glare.
Seemingly appeased, George continued, “I know...it’s hard to believe Fred and I were destined for greatness.” A fleeting solemnity crossed his face before he went on. “Let me tell you a secret,” he said, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “I never talked about my problems with anyone but Fred. I confided in him so much, believing there was nobody else I could trust, not even my parents.” He lowered his head and gazed at the froth in his nearly empty butterbeer.
“Fred and I shared a lot of adventures together,” George went on. “We knew most were silly and stupid, and we proudly caused trouble wherever we went. But that made it even more worthwhile, because we had each other, you see? He had my back when I needed it, and I had his in return. We helped each other and worked things out, because without him, I couldn’t have done half of what I do now. You understand what I’m saying, right?” He looked to Harry, who was clutching his untouched drink, staring intently at George as he took in his words.
“I know,” Harry whispered.
“Ron may be the biggest prat to ever walk the earth,” George declared, making Harry chuckle. “But I know him, Harry—not because he’s my brother, but because I know for a fact he’d do anything for the one person he calls his best friend.”
“I’ve heard of your many adventures together,” George said, glancing at Harry who was uncharacteristically quiet beside him. He went on, “Ron stood by you through it all—you learned and fought side-by-side, solved mysteries together. You two have been through so much over the years, trusting each other every step of the way. Wouldn’t you agree he’s proven himself worthy of your trust time and again?”
Harry felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t given Ron enough credit lately. Harry had been preoccupied with worrying about his friends’ well-being, while failing to appreciate their steadfast camaraderie. He realized now how wrong he’d been.
“To lose an ear and a twin in such a short time...that’s more than most could handle,” George continued, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t even conjure a Patronus back then, now that I think about it. I’m only saying this because...I don’t want you to regret it, if you lose someone important before telling them what they meant to you—” Tears flowed freely down George’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. George lifted his head with a sad smile.
“I think the hardest part of losing someone isn’t saying goodbye,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s learning to live without them and constantly trying to fill the void they left in your heart. I don’t think you ever truly get over a loss, you know? But I chose to move forward because I know that’s what Fred would have wanted—for me to honor his memory, not sit around grieving.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Harry nodded in understanding. If his surroundings could have reflected his inner turmoil, they would have been screaming with the unbearable pain and sorrow of losing those close to him. He tried not to dwell on it, but the terrible grief was inescapable.
Harry spoke softly, “It’s hard, I know. With time, it will be the small, everyday things I’ll remember most - the laughs, the stories, the smiles...” His voice trailed off.
“Though the pain may seem endless, those very memories will help push the sorrow away and bring back happier feelings in time,” George assured. “You don’t have to face this alone, Harry. There are always people willing to help ease the pain. I’m here whenever you need - even if it’s just for a change of scenery and a bottle of Firewhisky. My door is open.”
Harry managed a faint smile and murmured thanks.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the soft winds.
“Don’t worry,” George said after a while, patting Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll smack Ron’s head for you personally. So drink up, mate!”
He raised his bottle to the dark sky. Harry did the same and said with relish, “Cheers!”
----------------------------------------
Ron and Ginny were having a heated argument in the living room after their parents had gone upstairs.
“I told you to stay out of this!” Ron said angrily to his sister.
“You expect me to ignore it when it involves Harry?” Ginny retorted incredulously. “That’s not going to happen, so don’t even try. And quit being a jerk to him!”
Ron looked frustrated. “What do you want me to do? He’s impossible to talk to and won’t say anything about what he’s hiding. He expects us to just sit back while he keeps secrets.”
“You need to control your temper,” she countered. “That’s one reason Harry won’t talk to you.”
“That’s unfair coming from you,” Ron retorted angrily. “He keeps silent when something’s clearly wrong!”
Ginny sighed heavily. “Harry was raised to believe he can’t rely on anyone. Even if we show we care, he doubts it. Yet you lash out without trying to understand why he is this way.”
“I only wanted to help,” Ron said, calming down a little. “Is that so much to ask?”
“I know your intentions were good,” Ginny replied gently. “Harry has a lot weighing on him right now, so getting him to open up won’t be easy. Just don’t be disappointed or lose your temper if he refuses to talk.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time he shut us out,” Ron muttered. “Hermione and I always had to push him to communicate more. But I know it’s not that simple for him.”
“For you, it’s natural to speak your mind, but for Harry, it’s difficult,” Ginny explained.
“Still, I wish he would trust us more, don’t you?” She stared sadly at the floor. “It’s not about trust now,” she said in a calm but melancholy tone. “Sometimes it seems he just doesn’t want us to worry, like he’s moved on already...you know?”
“He’s just being selfish as usual then, and he’s pretty good at that!” Ron snarled angrily.
“No, there’s something more,” she replied softly. “I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“Well, screw this!” Ron abruptly stood and stormed upstairs. “I’ll confront him tomorrow and hope he remembers how to use his mouth - to talk that is!”
“Could you please stop and listen for once!” Ginny yelled after her brother’s retreating form.
But Ron continued upstairs and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him.
----------------------------------------
Ron slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning in frustration. He had only just managed to drift off as the sun rose and daylight streamed through his window, making him curse as it hit his eyes. Groggily getting up, he made his way downstairs, but before he could reach the kitchen, retching and agonized cries came from the bathroom next to Harry’s room.
Ron hurried to the bathroom door and knocked.
“I’ll be right there, just give me a sec,” came Harry’s weak reply.
“Harry, are you okay?” Ron asked. He heard the toilet flush and water running in the sink. “Harry?” He grabbed the doorknob just as Harry pulled the door open.
“Ron,” Harry said weakly. “Do you need anything?”
Ron looked at Harry’s haggard state—his red eyes and heavy breathing.
“Harry, are you sick?”
Harry trudged to his room, brushing off Ron’s concerned gaze. “I just need to rest, Ron. I’ll be okay.” He started closing the door, but Ron held it open.
“I’ll get Mum to help.”
“No!” Harry lunged to stop Ron, but he had already dashed upstairs to his parents’ room.
Harry’s face flushed with embarrassment. The fuss people were making only made it worse.
A few minutes later, Ron entered Harry’s room, Mrs. Weasley close behind holding several potion bottles. They found Harry huddled in the corner of his bed, head in hand. He looked up as they came in.
“Harry, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, moving to check on him, “Ron told me you’re ill.”
“Mrs. Weasley, I’m okay,” Harry said, shifting away. “Please don’t worry.”
Ron folded his arms. “I heard you retching and moaning in the bathroom, Harry. Don’t say it was nothing.”
Harry shot him a glare.
Gently ordering Harry to lie down, Mrs. Weasley bent over him, peering at his face. She brushed back his hair and felt his forehead, frowning slightly. “You’ve got a bit of a fever, dear, and you look so pale. Here, drink this.” She handed Harry a purple potion, which he gulped down obediently.
“Get some rest now,” Mrs. Weasley said in a soothing tone. “I’ll be back to check on you later.” With that, she stood and left the room.
Ron closed the door behind her and shuffled awkwardly to stand before Harry. The two looked at each other wordlessly. Though Ron was at a loss for what to say, Harry knew full well why his friend lingered.
Eyes downcast, Ron began hesitantly, “Harry...”
Harry sighed, “Are you here to ask what’s wrong with me? Because I have no intention of saying anything—“” He hesitated, remembering his talk with George about confiding in Ron. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, “For now.”
When Harry looked up and met Ron’s eyes, he saw a flicker of hope and relief spread across his friend’s face.
Clearing his throat, Ron said, “That’s fine.” Unable to control himself, he cracked a small smile.
Surprisingly, Harry smiled back. He missed his best friend and wanted their relationship to return to normal, to make the most of whatever time he had left with Ron.
Coughing slightly, Harry said softly, “I don’t want to sound rude, Ron, but I’d like to rest.”
“Oh, um... sure,” Ron hurried out the door.
----------------------------------------
When Ginny came downstairs for breakfast, she expected to see Harry as usual, but he was nowhere to be found. As Mrs. Weasley cooked at the stove, Ron greeted Ginny with an eager grin, as if Christmas had arrived early.
“What made you so happy?” Ginny asked suspiciously.
Beaming, Ron replied, “Oh, just had a chat with Harry.”
Alarmed, Ginny demanded, “What did you say to him?”
Taken aback by her accusatory tone, Ron insisted, “I didn’t do anything! We just talked.”
“About what?” Ginny pressed. “Where is he, anyway? Still asleep?” She glanced around the kitchen.
Ron informed her, “He was awake earlier, but he’s probably asleep again now. He’s sick.”
“Sick?” she asked. “Why would he suddenly get sick? He seemed fine yesterday.”
“Yeah, I thought so too,” Ron replied. “But this morning I heard him throwing up and groaning in pain in the bathroom.”
Ginny’s expression turned to a slight frown. “Did he mention anything else?”
Ron shook his head. “Mum gave him a potion. She said she’ll come back later to check on him.”
“I’ll go check on him now,” Ginny said as she started to move, but Mrs. Weasley stopped her.
“Not yet, dear. Let him rest for now. I’m making some soup that you can take up to him later.”
With a heavy sigh, Ginny nodded and assisted her mother in preparing breakfast.
“Mum, where’s George?” Ron asked abruptly.
“He took off early this morning,” Mrs. Weasley replied, her voice filled with gloom. “I expect it’ll be weeks before George comes ’round to visit us again.”
----------------------------------------
It was nearly noon when Mrs. Weasley asked Ginny to check on Harry, bringing him a cup of hot soup. Ginny knocked gently on his door, but received no answer. She opened the door slowly and peered inside. Harry lay curled up in bed, trembling and drenched in sweat, with his back to her.
“Harry?” She felt his forehead and found it burning up.
He turned his head slightly and gave her a feeble smile. “Ginny,” he croaked.
“You’re running a high fever and shivering, Harry,” she said anxiously as she spread a blanket over him. “Didn’t you already take a Fever Reducing potion?”
Harry nodded weakly before closing his eyes again.
Ginny dashed downstairs to alert her mother that the potion had failed to help Harry, who had developed a high fever. She returned shortly with Mrs. Weasley and Ron, who confirmed Harry’s fever. Mrs. Weasley regretfully informed him he’d have to wait an hour before taking more medicine. In the meantime, she had Ginny bring him hot soup to eat and regain some strength while they waited for the next dose.
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said appreciatively, though still feeling ill.
Ron propped up the pillows and helped Harry sit up. He slid Harry’s glasses onto his face, and Ginny sat down beside Harry, cradling the bowl of soup.
“I can feed myself, Ginny,” Harry said, looking embarrassed.
Ginny sighed but didn’t budge. “Your hands are shaking, Harry. I don’t think you can even hold the spoon properly right now.”
She scooped up some soup and brought the spoon to Harry’s mouth. He reluctantly accepted the bite.
Watching them, Ron couldn’t help grinning. “You better heal up fast, mate, or else Ginny will take full advantage of you.”
Ginny shot him a glare. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“What? I’m standing guard in case Harry needs my help,” Ron replied sulkily.
Harry gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Ron. Don’t worry about me.”
“Go on, admit it. You just want some alone time with Ginny,” Ron said, smirking knowingly at his best friend.
“Well, if I have your blessing...” Harry replied hopefully, noticing Ron’s silent warning glare that said ‘hands off my sister’.
“Fine, fine,” Ron sighed, dragging his feet as he left the room.
Harry and Ginny stared awkwardly at the closed door for a few moments.
“I don’t know how you put up with my brother,” Ginny said, scooping more soup. “He irritates me to no end.”
“Yeah, he gets on my nerves sometimes too,” Harry admitted.
“He gets on everyone’s nerves,” she corrected him. She brought the spoon to Harry’s mouth, and he gladly accepted it now that Ron wasn’t there to poke fun.
“But I’m grateful to have him as my best friend,” he said after swallowing the soup. “I can’t imagine life without someone as irritating as him. It’d be so dull.”
Ginny chuckled.
“I’ll admit he’s a decent person if you overlook his pettiness,” she said, looking as surprised at her words as if the thought had just occurred to her.
“He is,” Harry replied shortly.
“He’s determined to know what’s bothering you,” Ginny said nervously, but Harry showed no reaction, so she continued, “Please don’t shut us out, because you don’t have to face this alone.”
Harry was overwhelmed with relief to hear Ginny reassure him that he was not alone. Her words - that he had supportive friends willing to help him through anything - filled the emptiness inside him with comfort and hope, feelings he wished would last.
They fell silent for a moment. Then Ginny looked up at Harry, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I’m terrified of losing you someday. I don’t know why or how...but I feel it coming. I may not understand what you’re going through, but I refuse to give up hope. There’s always light, no matter how dark things get. I need you, Harry. Stay with me.”
Harry’s heart ached. Though he longed to promise her that everything would be okay, he knew it was a lie. He would give anything, even his life, just to be with her and make her happy.
Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and looked him straight in the eyes. “Please promise me you’ll tell me what’s troubling you before it’s too late,” she pleaded. “Don’t pretend everything is fine when I know something is wrong. It’s okay not to be okay sometimes.”
Harry yearned to confide in her in that moment. He wanted this to be the right time to reveal the aches and pains that had burdened him for weeks. He opened his mouth, ready to divulge what he had been hiding, but a knock at the door shattered the opportunity.
Ginny sighed and answered the door. It was Mrs. Weasley. “Ginny, I’ve drawn a cool bath for Harry. It should help bring down his fever,” she said, clearly thinking Muggle remedies were needed since the potion wasn’t working.
Ginny nodded silently.
Ron returned to Harry’s room only to find it empty. He crossed to the desk and grabbed the half-eaten bowl of cold soup, now useless to Harry. As Ron turned to leave, scraps of paper covered in Harry’s handwriting caught his eye, stuffed between the pages of books. Curious, Ron pulled out one scrap and read:
internal pain, confusion, mental breakdown, antisocial behaviour
Startled by Harry’s strange list, Ron seized the book where he had found the paper. Opening it, he discovered a page detailing various ailments - their symptoms, effects, and potential to cause death, yet no treatments.
Perplexed, Ron examined the books covering Harry’s desk. All of them focused on souls; The Soul, Souls and Its Mysteries, Soul: An Introduction. Why was Harry suddenly so interested in souls? Ron racked his brain, but couldn’t make sense of it. They hadn’t received any summer assignments from Hogwarts since they hadn’t returned for their final year. The only time they went back was for the war.
Just then, Ron heard Ginny knock on the bathroom door across from her room.
“Harry, just checking in. Are you alright in there?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out soon,” came Harry’s muffled reply.
Before Ginny could return to her room, Ron hurried over to confront her, completely baffled by Harry’s strange reading selections.
To be continued...