AN: Super sorry about the long update, y'all, but I've been busy. I've also been trying to work on an original novel of my own creation, which is rather difficult when this keeps getting in the way. And Guest: Eve, yes, I'm dead. I am writing this to you from the afterlife. Fred says hi.
Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley did happen to be around. Right in the next room, in fact. The two Aurors were in the middle of an intense question-and-answer session with Mad Eye, and losing badly.
"It's—it's—well, it would be…" Tonks stammered. "It's illegal, I know that."
"It's nice to see how strong and knowledgeable our Auror force is," I said. "Makes me feel real safe and snuggly."
Tonks flushed, Kingsley only nodded at me in greeting, and Mad Eye snorted.
"Aye, they're nothing like they used to be. I'm shocked we won the war over there with you, Weasley. Would've thought we'd crash and burn."
"The Order was only halfway useless," I said. "Of course, most of us died, but still."
"Wotcher, George," Tonks said. She tried to take a step toward me, tripped over the rug, and crashed into Kingsley. "Oops! Sorry about that."
He grunted. "S' all right. Can we help you, sir?"
"Hmm?" I stared at him. "Oh, yeah. What did you think of Harry's relatives?"
All three of them frowned. Well, Tonks frowned. Kingsley's face turned stony, and Mad Eye's regular face is enough to make sour milk puke.
"Tonks was the only one of us to actually guard the boy." Moody's eye rolled around and landed on a spot just behind my left shoulder. It froze there, never blinking.
"Well then, Nymphy?"
"Eep!" I hit the ground and produced a hasty shield. Her boil-making curse bounced off it and dissolved with a hiss. "Merlin! What are you, three?"
Moody and Kingsley looked slightly impressed, probably at my reflexes, but Tonks was steaming. "Don't call me that, One-Ear!"
"Oi!" I complained. "Come on now. Really?"
Kingsley coughed. "Tonks, did you see anything suspicious at Potter's?"
Tonks' hair was a bright, vivid red. "His relatives are weird, I'll give you that. His aunt is so tall she could be part giant, but she's way too skinny—looks like a horse. And the uncle and cousin easily weigh as much as Hagrid each, but they're both a good head shorter than the aunt."
"Yeah, knew that," I said, thinking of the last time Ginny had invited both me and Dudley-Diddlekins to the same Christmas party. It had ended badly. "And their attitudes? What about them?"
"Urg, gross." Tonks' face and hair turned back to normal, and she curled her lip. "The aunt's always spyin' on the neighbors with that neck o' hers, gossips all the time. The uncle isn't home much, or he weren't on my shifts anyway, but the cousin is a bully—went 'round terrorizing all the kids, stealing their toys, beating them up for no good reason. Reminded me of a Slytherin."
"What about Potter himself?" Moody asked. "What he'd do all summer? I told Albus it wasn't a good idea fer him to be alone after what happened with Diggory."
Tonks shrugged. "He was either in his room or outside doing gardening. Don't know why—seemed like an awful lot of work he did. Is he any good at Herbology?"
"I saw some o' the kid's grades when I was last in Albus' office," Moody said. "Potter normally gets an E or an A. Got just one Outstanding through all o' last year, and that was in Defense."
Kingsley frowned. "If his relatives act like that, then hypothetically Potter should too, not the quiet hero he is. You said he's doing all the gardening?" He turned to look at me.
"Yeah," Tonks said. "Crazy teen."
Moody's glass eye wobbled a bit, then moved its glare from behind me to the ceiling. He hmmed. "Potter's got bad sunburn, lots o' bruises, and a nasty ol' bump on his head. Might have a concussion."
My face turned cold. "Concussion?"
That would explain his attitude, but he'd been at Grimmauld for almost a week. It was possible he'd gotten it when his cousin was knocking him around, but that would've been…well, a week ago. If Harry had had a concussion the entire time… Crap.
"I thought the kid was stellar at his trial," Kingsley said. "That's what everyone was saying. If he's got a concussion, I want to know when and where he got it, and how we didn't know about it."
"What about the bruises and sunburn?' Tonks asked. "Okay, not the sunburn, that makes sense. But why bruises? He's not clumsy like me, and I haven't seen him tumbling around with the other boys."
Moody's eye swiveled to glare at me. "Weasley?"
"The Dursleys," I growled. "His cousin bullies him, I know that, and his aunt and uncle make him do a load of the housework."
Kingsley didn't look impressed. "Then why doesn't Dumbledore know about this?"
"He does. After all, he knows about Sirius, and how many times has Sirius bragged about Harry begging to stay with him only moments after the kids discovered his innocence? Begging an escaped mass murderer you barely know to take you away from the relatives you've lived with for twelve years… yeah, that's normal."
Kingsley still wasn't impressed. "Having a spoiled bully for a cousin and having to do more chores than most kids isn't an excuse for that. Lots of kids are neglected and pushed around whether they live with their parents or not. Doesn't make it right, but it doesn't excuse what you're saying."
"No," I agreed. "Living in a cupboard for ten years does, though."
Behold the moment of silence.
Tonks gasped. Moody rolled his eye around to me. "Say what?"
"Anyone ever ask him what the Dursleys are like, or about his room, or any fun times he's had growing up?" I asked. "Ever wonder why his clothes never fit, or why he's so quiet, or why he'll sometimes flinch if someone moves too fast around him?"
"That's a serious accusation, especially concerning his fame," Kingsley pointed out.
"And the fact that Dumbledore keeps him there," I said. "You have the facts, you know where to look for proof. Now I want you to make a case and figure out how to present it in court so Harry can get away from there."
Kingsley stared at me. It always drove me mad how hard he was to read. "Where would he go? No one in their right mind would turn down the Boy-Who-Lived, but there's Potter's safety to think about. At least he won't get killed at the muggles' home."
"Have Mum and Dad take him," I said. "They've got enough kids, and he's practically one of us anyway."
Tonks snorted. "Give him red hair and they'd probably think he really was theirs."
"Oi," I grumbled. "That's only a little bit true."
"Wouldn't work," Moody growled. "Ministry wouldn't stand for it. They'd want him with popular purebloods, an' any Death Eater ilk would just pay fer 'im."
"Not my problem anymore." I grinned at him cheekily. "Ta ta!" Cue me diving for the door.
"Just wait for yours, Weasley!" Tonks called, but she sounded enthusiastic. "It's coming!"
"Can't wait to be impressed by the fearsome Auror Department, Nymphadora," I called back. Whatever she said next was muffled by a loud crack next to me.
I grabbed for my wand, prepared a curse, and—
"Master Wheezy George!" Dobby squeaked. "You's must come quickly! Dibbley has found something very strange in—" he paused, looked around, and quieted immensely—"Dibbley has found something very strange in your new things."
New things? Well, that wasn't at all vague. "Strange how?"
Dibbley snapped his fingers, and some type of ward went up. "Quiet ward so we's not interrupted," he explained. "Master Wheezy sir, Dibbley has found—"
"Dibbley has found a body, sir!" Dobby squeaked.
I stared at one elf, then at the other, then back again. "Dibbley found a what?"
Dibbley tried to kick Dobby's ankle. "Dibbley has found a wizard's body in Mister Dumbador's things, Master Wheezy."
Everything went blurry as I tried to process this. "A body?" I asked. "Whose body?"
Both elves shrugged.
"All right," I said. I had nicked stranger things before. Probably. "Lead the way."
I sunk down into Dumbledore's floral patterned armchair as I stared at what could only be the body of a wizard. It—he—was floating in some sort of glowing yellow spell inside a compartment of a rather large trunk. He was deep down, and difficult to see from my vantage point outside the trunk, but he seemed familiar. Shoulder length black hair. Scarily pale complexion. Fangs poking out from his lips—kidding.
"Either of you know him?"
Dobby and Dibbley shook their heads.
"All right," I said. "Fawkes?"
The phoenix gave a chirp in the negative and continued his preening.
"So we have no idea who he is or why he's in Dumbledore's trunk?"
"No, Master Wheezy sir," Dibbley said. "But he's is not dead."
My eyebrows shot up. "Oh really?"
"That is stasis spell on him. Stasis spells are for living things only. On dead things, wizards use preservation spells." He wrinkled his nose. "Strange spell, though. It's to keep him alive and sleeping, but not the same."
I looked at the 'sleeping' wizard. "You mean he's still aging?" He looked just a little older than me. Mid-thirties, probably.
Dibbley nodded. "Yes, Master Wheezy."
"So why the hell did Dumbledore have him?"
Both elves shrugged.
"Fawkes? You sure you don't recognize him?"
Fawkes froze mid-preen to glare at me.
"All right, I get it," I said. "So will I disturb the spell if I drop down there for a peek?"
Dibbley shook his head. "You's will fall asleep, Master Wheezy George, but he won't change."
I nodded, thinking hard. "That's a problem, because I really need to know what reason Dumbledore could possibly have for holding a wizard hostage like this. Any idea how long he's been down there?"
Dibbley shook his head again, but Dobby paused. "Master Wheezy George," he said slowly. "Dobby thinks sleeping wizard is a pureblood."
At least it was something. "Why?"
"Sleeping wizard's robes are fancily embroidered," he pointed out, "but family crest has been cut out. Dobby thinks he's hiding or disowned, Master Wheezy George."
"Don't call me that," I reminded him. "So…Dumbledore had a disowned or hiding pureblood wizard locked in a trunk. Now I have a disowned or hiding pureblood wizard locked in a trunk. Dobby, Dibbley, I need you two to work with the other elves to figure out who the hell he is and what on Earth Dumbledore wanted with him, all right?"
Both elves nodded.
"And Fawkes, I need you to—"
The ungrateful bird hissed at me.
"You can wash another time. I need you to try and figure out the same, all right? Or is that too menial a task for your highness? Because I can stop feeding you anytime you like."
The bird ignored me and went back to preening.
"Dibbley, is there any way I can get down there without passing out?"
Dibbley frowned. "Maybe."
I sighed. "Anyway I can get down there now?"
"Bubble head will stop you from breathing the spell," he said. "It might work."
"But there's a chance it won't? You two can yank me out of there if it doesn't, right?"
Dobby nodded enthusiastically. Dibbley nodded less so.
"All right," I said. "Will I wake up once I'm out of there?"
Dibbley's nodding was much more positive this time.
"Sounds good to me." I pointed my wand at my head. "Bublet Caput!"
A pink bubble swelled out of my wand and surrounded my head, quieting everything almost entirely. I struggled out of the armchair, strolled my way over to the trunk, and hopped over the side. The stasis charm was thick and sludgy for glowing yellow light, and walking through it reminded me of walking underwater, but my charm held. I gave the elves a thumbs up.
Dobby gave me one back.
The wizard was laying limp on the ground. I knelt down to examine him closer, and was reminded of—I didn't remember who, but someone. Damn it. He had sharply defined features, and a few light crisscrossing scars on his right cheek. I pulled up an eyelid and was rewarded by a dark grey iris which, once again, I felt I should recognize.
I felt up and down his sides, then noticed his wand—redwood and dragon heartstring, I think—at his side. I scooped it into my pocket. It wouldn't do if he woke up by accident and immediately armed himself. Then I yanked up his sleeve.
The Dark Mark stared up at me, the snake endlessly circling the skull, both as black as the sleeping man's hair. I stared at it, a bitter taste in my mouth.
The first time I had seen this had been at the World Cup, Ireland vs Bulgaria, where Krum had made his amazing catch but still lost the game. The last time I had seen it—
I yanked his sleeve back and looked up. Four large eyes stared at me in fear.
"Right, you two," I said, my voice echoing inside the bubble. "This changes things. When you're out there looking for information about this fellow, be very, very careful. Don't go alone."
The elves nodded.
I grabbed the edge of the trunk, clambered out, and shut the lid quicker than was probably necessary. I reluctantly released the bubble head charm, then conjured a quill and some parchment and hastily scribbled a few ingredients.
"Dibbley, I need these as quickly as you can get them. Turn the pewter cauldron on low, would you?" The elf grabbed the list and started rummaging through what stores I had. I turned to Dobby. "Thanks for this. You can stick around if you want, but I don't have anything for you to do right now."
"Dobby is watching Harry Potter," the elf admitted. "Harry Potter is in danger from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and must be protected." He eyed me cautiously. "Dobby is correct?"
I snorted. Then I remembered how Dobby had died and sobered up. "Be careful, all right?"
Dobby nodded enthusiastically, causing several of his tea cozies to finally fall off, and popped away.
I turned to the heating cauldron, and cleared off a section of a worktable with a swish and jab of my wand. "We have everything?"
Dibbley nodded and set a bunch of jars and bottles on the table.
"Good. We need three ounces of crushed beetle eyes in the mortar, then three teaspoons of honey, a horned slug, and seven drops of castor oil…"
Half an hour later I had a cauldron full of Super Sticking Salve, another infamous product of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which I thickly lathered onto the edges of the trunk with Mr. Sleeping Death Snacker. Sticking charms work fine, but charms can always be undone by someone better than you. Salves and potions need antidotes to stop working.
"Think he'll suffocate?" I asked.
Dibbley shook his head. "Remember the stasis spell, Master Wheezy sir."
"Good. Now, think you can make this by yourself?"
He frowned at me.
"Of course you can. Silly me. So if I gave you a whole bunch of recipes…"
His eyes lit up. "Dibbley will make whatever potions and salves he can, Master Wheezy sir! He can make many. He just needs ingredients."
"I'll stock up soon," I promised. "And in a few months the greenhouse will be full too." I wandered about the room, picked a few well-worn books off the shelves, and presented them to the elf. "It's all color coded. Make as many of the pink marked Skiving Snackboxes as you can first, all right? And don't eat them."
He nodded happily. I remembered I was talking to a house elf.
"How about a thousand products to start with? Use as much of a batch as you can. If you need jars or bags, let me know, and make sure you mark them."
He kept nodding.
"Don't forget to eat and sleep."
The nodding slowed.
"And don't forget—"
Dobby popped into the room. "Master Wheezy George, sir! Mister Scary Wheezy is here for you with the twinses."
Mister Scary Wheezy—I mean, Weasley? "Who?"
Bill poked his head in. Ah, good. I needed to talk to him. "Apparently your elves think I'm scary. Which I find ironic, since they live with you."
"In their defense," I said, "they haven't been here very long yet, and they aren't allowed in the basement."
Bill raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm scared to go in the basement. Thanks."
"Since you're here, I wanted to ask you something."
"That's actually kind of terrifying, coming from you. Do the twins need to be here too? Because I see that Extendable Ear creeping down the hallway, Fred, George."
I poked my head out just in time to see a small pinkish blob be yanked around a corner and vanish. "Oi, you two! Get in here!"
The twins appeared with two loud cracks, wearing large grins and not looking the least bit apologetic.
"Oops," Fred said.
I summoned a stack of books and thrust them into Junior's arms. "Here you go. Custom products of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Pack your trunks first, and don't get in Dibbley's way."
Their eyes widened, and Fred dropped the Extendable Ear to grab some books from the stack for himself. They started flipping through them.
"Look at this one," Junior muttered to Fred, showing him a page. "Bloody brilliant, that is. Think Ginny would mind if we asked her to test it out?"
Bill let himself into the workroom. "So," he said, "I'll be leaving very shortly and not coming back, but you wanted to talk?"
"Relax, Bill!" I shut the door, blocking out the muttering twins, and took a seat. "We won't do anything too horrible to our favorite brother."
"I feel completely reassured. Why did I ever doubt you?"
I ignored his rudeness and clapped my hands together. "So did you hear about Dumbles' office?"
Bill looked resigned. "Of course that was you."
"Who else it would be? Anyway, I took everything. Including the Sorting Hat, the portraits, the lemon drops, and his bookshelves."
He sighed and propped himself against a counter. "I think I'd really prefer to have some plausible deniability, George."
"Shut up. I found a body."
That shut him up for a moment. "A human one?"
"Dumbledore had a dead body in his office?"
"Well, it's not dead."
His left eye twitched. "You found a not-dead human body in Dumbledore's office?"
"I get the feeling I really don't want to know but you're going to tell me anyway."
He rolled his eyes. "Who is it?"
"I don't know." I scratched my head. "He looks damn familiar, though. I asked the elves to keep an ear out, try and figure out who he is and why Dumbles had him. Here's the weird part, though—he's a Death Eater."
Bill whistled. "For real?"
"Saw the Mark myself. I'd show him to you, but I sealed up the trunk pretty good."
"You locked him in the trunk?" Bill eyed said object suspiciously, and his hand started creeping toward his pocket.
"Nah. Dumbledore had him under a sort of sleeping charm, so I just left him there. Don't want to accidentally let a crazed murderer loose. Especially one Dumbledore had locked up."
Bill frowned at the trunk. "I take it you didn't know about this?"
"As far as I know, he might've never even existed in my world. He did look familiar, though. I was thinking I might've seen a picture or a relative somewhere."
"You better not be expecting me to help you look."
That startled a laugh out of me. Bill didn't even know what Sleep Snacker looked like; how by Merlin's crisscrossed eyes was he supposed to help me look? "Merlin, no! I mostly wanted to share it with you, see if you could keep an ear out for any missing Death Eaters or secret plans of Dumbledore's."
"So what I've already been doing?"
Bill didn't look away from the trunk. "Hogwarts tomorrow."
"You going to be all right?"
I shrugged. "Why would I not be?"
"I don't know. Let me list the reasons."
"You're awful sarcastic today, you know that? I don't think you mean a word coming out of your mouth, Bill, and if I didn't know better I'd say you'd were confunded. I'm getting sick of it. I'm the rude one."
He gave a hollow laugh, and crossed his arms. He refused to meet my eyes. "I guess it just didn't hit before, right? I mean, you're my little brother, and you're seventeen and thirty-two. And Fred could be dead in three years. And I might get bitten by a werewolf, and you've got kids, George, and it's just too much! I mean, I knew you were real, that everything you said was true, but I just didn't—I didn't really believe it until this morning, when you knew exactly what Fudge was up to at the trial. And you just—you went around it, like you'd lived through it once before, and then I realized that you had, and everything else just kind of clicked into place."
Bill had culture shock.
I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it coming. As hard as it was for me to be living everything over again, everyone else was watching me living it again, and getting a look at your future was never fun, especially when that future was insane and murderous and not that far away. That was why nobody liked prophecies.
"Dibbley," I said, "give us a moment?"
The elf put a charm over the bubbling cauldron and popped away.
"Bill. Look at me."
Bill did not look at me.
"William Weasley, look at me!"
Bill dragged his eyes toward me and settled them somewhere over my shoulder. I decided that was good enough.
"Bill, it happens. You think Mom and Dad aren't panicking about this? That Percy isn't hoping it's all some elaborate prank? That Charlie's probably freaking out right now because he just read Skeeter's article? That Ron and Ginny are trying to figure out how their brother could die?"
My voice cracked.
"Bill, I saw you live through it once. I did. You didn't. And you're not going to, because you are not him. Hear me? You. Are not. Him. You have a girlfriend, you have a job, you are young and whole and barely remember what war's like. You despise raw meat and can't imagine settling down and getting a normal job and having kids. And someday, when you say so, you are going to make your own life and not try and follow whatever you think the future's supposed to be because I said something happened a certain way where I come from."
He didn't look up.
"Because if you don't, you'll have three Weasley twins after you."
That made him glare at me.
"Bill, the future's not set. I mean, I don't know a whole lot about this stuff, way too confusing, but I do know that every prophecy has about a million different possible ways of turning out, and that has to mean we have some sort of control over our own destiny. We have choices. What's real to me isn't real to you. My past is not your future."
His glare intensified. Pre-werewolf glare looked measly and unintimidating. Or maybe it was the lack of yellow eyes. Bill's eyes always turned yellow when he was angry.
"Now stop making me quote poetic. I'll throw up."
Bill snorted, hung his head, and snorted again. Something in his posture relaxed, and all of a sudden he didn't look so stressed anymore.
"Okay," he said. "Fine. For your sake, I will stop worrying about the future and prophecies and evil dark wizards. Happy?"
"Oh sweet Merlin, no, I'm not happy," I said. "I haven't gotten laid in two years."
Finally, Bill threw his head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And seeing him laugh made me feel just a little bit better, like some part of me was still normal, fun-loving George Weasley.
"Now," I said as he caught his breath, "I assume this wasn't just a social visit on your part?"
"I needed to drop the twins off. They were driving me insane. What the hell is a canary cream?"
"Forget it, I don't want to know. Now that you mention it, Tonks did ask me to remember as much as I could of Harry's relatives and write it up for her. You asked her to look into them for you?"
"Her, Kingsley, and Moody," I said. "Figured they're trust worthy, and they'll definitely get the job done. Besides, people will listen to them. They're respected. Well, Kingsley is. Tonks is loud, and Moody has contacts. So word will get out. Besides, I planted the nugget that Sirius might not have had a trial to Amelia Bones, so that should start bearing fruit soon. Remind me to get some wards on her house before Christmas though, all right?"
Bill frowned. "Why Christmas?"
"I thought you didn't want to know the future."
He threw a stinging hex at me. "Idiot. Come on now, tell me why I should get to work on that ward scheme."
"You drive a hard bargain," I laughed, rubbing the welt on my shin. Then, sobering up, I added, "Why do you think? She's Head of the DMLE, Bill. She's a formidable dueler, a brilliant witch, and lost a lot of family to Riddle in the first war. She's got a big target on her back."
"She has a niece, doesn't she?"
I grimaced. "Yeah, Susan. Hell of a dueler, that one. Don't fancy ever crossing wands with her. Did you know, I once saw her take out three Death Eaters with one cutting curse?"
"Dead so. She's a powerhouse. In fact, I'm hoping to introduce her to Harry, get them to train together, get to know each other better."
He grinned. "Playing matchmaker already, George?"
"Shut up! Harry's future love life is not one I'm hoping to change all too much, because his kids are darn cute. Besides, Ginny would murder me."
Bill laughed. Then froze. "Ginny?"
"Mhmm. Big surprise, I know."
"He marries Ginny?" Bill's voice grew steely.
"Calm down. It was more like Ginny married him, but yeah. Just give the kid some time. He did take down a Dark Lord."
Bill didn't look convinced.
"Look, at least let him grow a little before you kill him?"
"I'm not making any promises."
I sighed. "I might as well warn you, Dobby's keeping an eye on him."
"Dobby? The house elf? The same house elf who stole the kid's mail, locked him and Ron out of King's Cross, and bewitched a Bludger?"
Bill put his hands up. "I'll just keep my feelings to myself, then."
"Want to know happened to him?"
"Not really, no. why? Need to get it off your chest?"
We sat (well, I sat. He stood) in companionable silence for a while.
"You know Hogwarts is tomorrow," he finally reminded me again.
"Yeah, I know."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm pretty sure I get quarters in the castle, but I can use Fawkes to get us in and out whenever I want. Also, I'm hoping to peek at the wards and try and make some usable portkeys."
"And about the danger this year?"
I eyed him suspiciously. "What danger?"
"The danger you mentioned when you were berating Dumbledore about the terrible state of the wards. You told McGonagall to go grade homework when she asked you about it, remember?"
I did remember it, actually. "I guess it's kind of a given there'll be danger, with Harry there, isn't it?"
"A bit, yeah. So what is it?"
I made a face. It was awful, was what. Or it had been. I was planning on turning the tables this time around. "The Ministry's sending a Defense professor, is what."
"It's not Percy, is it?"
I snorted. "Deer Merlin, if only! No, it's Fudge's main lackey. Nasty sadist, she is. Hates muggleborns and blood traitors and all that. Used a blood quill in detention. See?" I held up my fist.
"I…will not…set people…on fire," he quoted slowly. "Merlin's lost wand. She used it on the students?"
"I used to cover for first years. But I told the twins to give her something special, and I'll be watching her. I was actually thinking—you know what, never mind."
Bill stared at me. "Never mind what?."
I didn't say anything.
"It's illegal, isn't it? That's really all you've been doing so far, so what's the problem? You're not planning to use an Unforgivable, are you?" he joked.
I shrugged. "Someone has to play nasty to beat the bad side. Might as well be me, seeing as how I've already done it."
He widened his eyes. "George, I don't want to know when you're going to use an Unforgivable, all right?"
I should've seen this coming. "All right."
"Or…or when you're going to kill someone. Or torture them. Or…blimey, George, at least don't spring it on me like this!"
"Liar. Just don't tell me anymore. What are you going to tell the twins?"
"I figured I'd tell them the truth about Umbridge, and I'm going to be training them, obviously, but I'd rather they finish their last year with a bang." I couldn't stop the monstrous grin that clawed its way up my face with that statement.
"I suppose that's literal—and no, I don't want to know about it until it happens! Just keep them out of too much trouble, all right? Actually, forget that. You'll probably get them in more trouble. Just let me know if you need anything."
I nodded, stood, and held out my hand. He shook it. "Deal."
AN: So, before I bow out, any ideas as to who the mysterious sleeping Death Eater is? And any ideas as to what the twins should do to Umbridge?