According to Professor McGonagall, when things are vanished with the "Evanesco" spell, they are put "into non-being, which is to say, everything" (DH).
A/N: Hello everyone.
First: I am so sorry. <3 I did not anticipate the cliff hanger being as brutal as it was, and I do have a bit of regret. I'm posting this chapter a bit early, and I'm trying to get a head start on the next one so you all don't have to wait as long.
I'm a bit social-ed out at present, so I hope it's alright if I sneak off without responding individually to comments from last week.
<3 Please know that I read them all, and I'm sending everyone many internet hugs. <3 <3 I also want to say thank you so much for taking the time to read and/or comment. You all are very kind and encouraging. <3 Please do your best to stay safe and warm. <3 <3 <3
Next: Please forgive any mistakes! I've been editing all day, and but there's quite a lot of content, and I always miss things.
As always, I do not own the rights to these characters or this storyworld.
Songs for this week include "Dancing Queen" by Abba (you'll know the part), "Brother" by Kodaline (Yes, again), "All I Want" by Kodaline (specifically starting at the mention of a folded jumper), and "Yellow" by Coldplay (especially at the very end).
I'm off to start the next chapter, but for now:
Grab your drink (I highly suggest apple cider for this week), your snack (I've got granola), and a cozy blanket. Let's dive in. :)
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George
July 14, 1998
George bent over the caldron, grinding his palms into his eyes. The stench of burning Wolfsbane soaked his clothes. He swore.
Why was it so bloody impossible?
They didn't have much time—less than a month to perfect it, and then Percy would face the full moon, with or without the potion. Percy, who preferred paperwork to broom sticks. Percy, who wore mostly greys because the other colors were too bright. Percy, who complained about noise above a whisper. Percy, who clung to rules and regulations like a security blanket.
It would tear him apart.
George gripped the desk.
He vanished the attempt, shaking himself. Then, he flipped back in the potions book, straining at the text's vague instructions. Belby's recipe seemed impossible to follow—the measurements were imprecise, as the necessary amounts would fluctuate depending on the time of brewing. It relied too much on the assumption that the brewer would have the sort of intuition that came with decades' time and a Mastery in the art.
George had neither.
The workshop was quiet, punctuated by the sound of Fred's snores in the corner. He'd fallen asleep at his own station, and George didn't have the heart to wake him.
Morning's light pierced the windowpanes, and they were no closer.
He jumped, shaking himself. Percy was counting on him.
Hands steady, George ladled out two measures of water and started again.
#
July 15, 1998
Bodies packed the courtroom, crammed along the walls and around the stands, and George felt sick. The chamber hadn't changed a bit since the last time he'd been here, save for the number of those present. Camera flashes strobed, and he blinked, grimacing. It was as though the whole wizarding world wanted to see what would become of the Malfoy legacy. Blood in the water sold papers.
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Lumos
FanfictionHermione doesn't remember marrying or falling in love with her husband. In fact, when the healer asks her if she'd like to see her husband, she thought Ron would walk through the door. Instead, it was George. A stray Obliviate from a dissenting blo...
