The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow II » Harry Potter

2.32 | A Crashcourse on How Not to Care

For someone as smart as Margaret was, she really could be an utter idiot sometimes.

Why on earth did she have to volunteer to come to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?

Her thought process had been quite simple - the Order members all had jobs, and it was urgent to ensure that the Death Eaters didn't get anything potentially helpful from their side. Moreover, she was grateful for all the help everyone was willing to provide. If it had not been for Dedalus's coat, she never would have figured this out.

However, as Margaret counted from one to one hundred Mississippi, she was sure she was going to start wrinkling of age before she gathered enough courage to step into the joke shop. She was sweating under her coat even though it was mid-fall and getting colder.

"C'mon, Maggie," she tells herself, shaking her head. "You're better than this."

Her feet carried her through the cobbled pathway and ascended the stairs despite her knees feeling weak. The little bell jingled as the door opened and jingled again as it closed. Before Margaret knew it, she was standing inside the brightly-coloured joke shop. She was about ready to turn around and bolt when a familiar voice spoke up from behind the counter.

"Hello, first customer of the day! I'll be with you in-"

George broke off, appearing over the counter and instantly catching sight of Margaret.

"Margi- Margaret?"

"Hullo..." she gave an awkward wave, eyes darting around anxiously, almost expecting Fred to pop out from behind a shelf. She shook her head to clear her mind and, as quickly as she could, scaled up to the counter while fishing out a note from her pocket.

"There was an Order meeting earlier this morning and, well, something came to our attention. Have you sent those anti-hex coats to the Ministry yet?" she asks.

"No, we'll be shipping them today," answers George. He gestured behind him to the several boxes and it became apparent that he had been packing them when Margaret arrived.

She almost sighed in relief. Almost. Her mind was too busy panicking about if Fred was around or if he was upstairs in the flat.

"Okay, good... Well, it's going to sound strange but the Order needs you to give the Ministry low-quality and non-durable pieces... This should explain why," she says, holding out the note she had asked Dumbledore to write. She had a feeling Fred and George might not be very trusting of her at the moment.

George took the parchment from her, reading over the words with a frown on his face. He exhaled; seemingly conflicted as he glanced over his shoulder at the boxes.

"Yeah, all right," he states a moment later, pocketing the note. "Is there anything else?"

"...No," mutters Margaret.

It was beyond strange to be talking to George so formally. Alike his twin, he too seemed to be missing that air of mischief he always had. Unlike Fred, however, Margaret could tell that this was an act. While Fred looked genuinely uncaring of anything Margaret had to say during their brief meeting, George had a glint of worry in his eyes; even though she could not understand why he would be worried about her.

"I know it's not my place to ask... but, erm... How is Fred?" Margaret asks softly. For a moment, she thought George might tell her to sod off. But he only shrugged.

"He's fine," George says. "Keeping busy."

Margaret nodded, now avoiding his eyes. An old memory of Fred flashed in her mind - he had told her how 'I'm fine' was the biggest lie. She ignored it; she hoped he was fine.