Dusk Till Dawn: A Fred And George Story

April 10, 1997

Upon waking up the next morning, I stalked downstairs in my pajamas to find my Mum making breakfast.

"I smell waffles!" I said excitedly. "My favorite." I watched, fascinated, as she used a machine that split in half and flipped over.

"The least I could do, honey. After yesterday..." And just like that, my mood dropped. She'd noticed. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later." Mum stared at me for a little while before remembering the waffles. The latest one was slightly burnt.

"I got it, Mum." I flicked my wand upward to clear the crispy parts off, but then the lights flickered off.

There were only certain places in the house with electricity, and those were the places my Mum spent the most time. The den, the kitchen, and her room. As the only Muggle in the family, she kind of needed it. In the den, she needed it for that big television mounted on the wall and she insisted on having proper lighting when she was cooking, not torches and candles suspended in midair. But what's the problem with those?

"Sorry, Mum, I forget that magic and electricity don't mix well."

"Oh no, it's fine." They came back on a second later. She served me my waffles and I ate them with delight.

"Mail's here," Mum said as an owl swooped in through the window carrying two copies of the Daily Prophet. As I took my dishes to the sink, I picked up my copy and went upstairs to my room to read.

I found Mirelda flying around impatiently, and then I remembered the previous night. Fingering the brown charm hung around my neck, I walked over to my desk and picked up the envelope addressed to me. I looked to the top left corner and dropped the package to the ground.

"Ow!" I let go of my necklace as well. It had all of a sudden grown hot and burned my skin.

I went to my mirror to check my chest for a mark that might scar. Seeing none, I looked myself over. I glared into my caramel-colored eyes. I was not a pretty sight. Freckles littered my cheeks. My wavy dirty blonde hair hung a little past my shoulders, and it was a mess. I decided to put it in a bun.

After putting on some clothing, I set out for the lab downstairs and was disappointed when my grandfather wasn't already there waiting for me.

I began my task of perfecting a new flavor of jellybean; I hated the taste of spoiled milk.

I tried and tried to distract myself with the work but I still couldn't get the sender's name out of my head.

George Weasley.

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After work was over, I walked to my grandparents' bedroom and knocked on the door.

"Come in," my grandfather replied.

I found him sitting on the edge of his bed, hand holding his stubby old chin, deep in thought.

"Uuh, Grandpa, can we talk?"

"What? Oh, yeah, come take a seat." He patted the mattress and I obliged. He looked at me. "So, what's on your mind?"

I stared at my hands, trying to figure out how I could express what I was feeling. "How would you feel if a person or persons you love abandoned you..."

"I would want knowledge," he replied. Of course he'd say that, being sorted into Ravenclaw in his time. "I'd want to know why."

I continued. "And if they reached out to you?"

"Why. Knowledge is power, Isabella."

"So why don't you tell me what this is?" I reached inside my shirt to pull out the brown charm resting against my chest.

My grandfather looked down at it. He took a breath. "You are not ready for that knowledge at this time." I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off. "If you find out too soon, the charm wears off. You can't know now."

I closed my mouth and returned the necklace to its spot, pondering the previous words. "What if you don't necessarily want to hear what they've got to say?"

"People change, Isabella. Give them a chance."

Nodding, I stood and went back to my room.