Lumos

Chapter Ten: "Splinched"

George

December 24, 1996

The fire rushed at them, roaring, thundering. George couldn't hear the words Fred was shouting. He could barely make out his mum and Ron in the smoke. Through the haze, Ron stared at them, his eyes working from George to Hermione. His younger brother's mouth opened, but the house groaned, splintering, threatening to collapse.

"C'mon, Mate!" Fred yelled in his ear, directing a stream of water from his wand to the blaze. George shook himself free of the shock and joined in, taking a place next to Angelina. It was as though the fire was enchanted to resist them, pulling away from the water and continuing to feed on the house.

Hermione pulled on his shoulder.

"Harry's gone to kill Bellatrix! And—" she coughed, overwhelmed by the ash. "Ginny ran after them." George froze. The sound around him muted as he comprehended her words. Then he was whirling, rushing into the cornfields. The stalks whipped at his face and arms, but he couldn't stop to breathe. Every second counted.

"Ginny! Ginny!" he shouted, whirling around.

"Harry!" a higher-pitched shout echoed behind him. It was Hermione. She'd come with.

A dark shape collided with him, knocking him off balance.

"Expelliarmus!" they roared in unison, but George's wand flew from his hand.

"Stupefy!" came another scream, and George was flipped back into the muddy field water.

His head spun.

"It's us, Harry! It's us!" Hermione's voice reverberated above his head. He peered through the darkness seeping into his frame of vision. There she stood over him, wand aloft and aglow.

#

December 25, 1996

The family ate Christmas dinner in the garden, under the heat of an extended warming charm. The frame of the Burrow had survived the blaze, but rebuilding would be a monumental effort. George and Fred had ducked into Ottery St. Catchpole to grab more food.

George passed the parsnips, but Ron turned his nose up at the plate as it went by. Ron wouldn't look at him. Hadn't made eye contact since the fire. George wasn't sure which offense he was paying the price for—accidentally nicking Ron's finger or showing up with Hermione yesterday. Ron had the wrong idea and was acting as though he the right to claim Hermione—as a friend or otherwise. Hermione was her own person, and besides, Ron was seeing Lavender. Nevertheless, George had clearly set him off, and while he'd been plenty rattled with Ron yesterday, now it felt unsettling. The fire had shaken him, and Ron's frosty demeanor seemed far more disheartening in its aftermath. They'd already lost Percy.

"The presents, all gone," Mrs. Weasley said. A choked sob escaped her.

"Not all!" George sprang to his feet. The table's occupants turned to look at him eagerly. Fred rounded the house (or rather, what was left of it), hoisting a large, shimmering bag on his back.

"We kept them in the flat," he said, shrugging them down to the ground. They tossed the parcels over the table, announcing as they went.

"A smart suit jacket for Dad," Fred called, vaulting the tissue-wrapped heap at Mr. Weasley, who caught it and laughed.

"Extra stretchy in the elbows and shoulders, should you need to make a quick getaway," George added, winking. He didn't bother to mention that they'd laced all the products with shield charms.

"For Mum, we had to go a bit extra," Fred said, crossing to Mrs. Weasley. He knelt and presented her with a shimmering necklace. Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened.