[Hey everyone, I'm so proud of myself for getting back on track with the story. Well, I am sad to say though that we are reaching the end of the story. L In case any of you have been wondering "Hey, does Giselle Sancrant have a SOUL after everything she put George and Roger through?" Well, let me just say, I was definitely tearing up while writing the previous chapter, and am on the verge of marrying Roger after his great act of bravery. X3 I never thought I would have fangirlisms over Roger Davies o.o Anyways, back to the story
George's apartment was quiet and tranquil. The night was beautiful, and he was finding it hard to sleep. After tossing and turning in bed for a few hours, he finally left his bed to open a window, letting a cool summer breeze dance around the apartment. George gratefully took off his t-shirt, letting the cold night air hit his body. His fiery red hair rustled in the wind, and he let out a sigh of relief.
It had been months now since George's stay at St. Dimentia's. After the incident with Boliva, George had managed to leave the asylum and escape undetected with the help of Roger, who took care of apparating both of them back home to the Burrow the moment they made it outside onto the ocean rock. It was nighttime when they arrived, and George woke his parents up to tell them he was home. His mother threw her arms around him, balling her eyes out. His father congratulated him on his release, not knowing that George had broken himself out.
After receiving some first aid magic from his mother, George sat his parents down and explained everything to them. He told them about the asylum, his room, the way they treated their patients, and his sessions with Doctor Leary. He also told them about Doctor Leary's scheme to get George and Fred's magic as well as the story about Boliva, leaving the part about Boliva being Fred's killer out of the story for the sake of his mother, deciding it would be better to keep it to himself. By time George had finished telling his story, his parents seemed absolutely horrified. Mr. Weasley vowed that the ministry would be hearing about this when he went to work that morning. Meanwhile, Roger would be allowed to stay with them until his parents received their owl announcing George's release. It wouldn't take long.
Roger hadn't spoken a word since they left the asylum. Killing Boliva had come as quite a shock to him, but George had a feeling that wasn't it. Roger's eyes had a new life to them. The color in his cheeks had already returned, and after a hearty homemade breakfast from Mrs. Weasley, he was even smiling.
"I never would've thought I'd have the guts…" Roger finally said later that day, sitting next to George in the garden while they watched gnomes run around freely.
George gave Roger a look of surprise. "Why do you say that?"
Roger shrugged. "I dunno. I guess that murder has always seemed so beyond me. After sitting in that asylum for so long, I'd forgotten the important things in life, like facing you fears." He paused, observing the lines on the palms of his hands. "Morals and stuff like that…all the things your parents tell you when you're little that don't really amount to much until you get older…I forgot all of it. Then I heard Boliva and you going at it outside of our room. Boliva was just tearing you down with everything he had, and you managed to stand your ground and fight it all… I began to realize that I envied your willpower. Your ability to keeping going was outstanding. It made me feel weak and insignificant, sitting in my little corner of the room, waiting for nothing but my next meal."
"But you aren't weak OR insignificant." George insisted.
"Well I was then." Roger argued. "I was sitting there wallowing in my own misery day and night. I wanted to get out of there, but I was always too afraid to take action. No matter how many times Autumn offered me a way out, I always refused out of my own cowardice. You, on the other hand, jumped at her offer the first time it was given to you."
George opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for the right words.
"I finally decided to take some action. I wanted to help, and lucky I did, or you would be done for. Autumn had given me several keys, but I refused to use any of them, just hid them away, not thinking I would ever use them. I grabbed one and unlocked the door to my room. The first thing I saw was Boliva standing over you, breaking your arms. At first, I had no idea what to do, but when I saw your wand lying there, I kind of just instinctively picked it up. The first spell that came to my mind was the killing curse, so I just kind of…did it…I'm not very proud of it, but I guess anyone else would've done it…right?" Roger looked over at George, who was smiling brightly.
George clapped Roger on the back. "You did the right thing, Roger."
Roger's parents came to get Roger later that day, thanking George for all his help, and glad to have their son back home. George told them he was glad to have helped, and could've swore he saw a tear trickle down Roger's cheek just before they apparated home.
When Mr. Weasley came home from work, the very first words out of his mouth were "It's gone." Both George and Mrs. Weasley gave him a puzzled look, confused as to what he meant.
"It's gone!" he exclaimed. "Burnt down to the ground! Apparently, one of the patients started a fire somewhere, and it was left unchecked for too long. The nurses managed to get all the patients out of there in time, and they've all been moved to a special ward in St. Mungos for now. There was only one casualty."
George raised an eyebrow. "Who was it."
"One of the psychiatrists there, Doctor Leary. One of the nurses claimed that they tried to make her leave, but she refused to admit that there was a fire." Mr. Weasley shrugged. "She's nothing but ashes now."
A smile spread across George's face. "All's well that ends well." He said cheerily.
George returned home later that day to find Verity had been running the shop on her own during George's absence, paying herself with the normal paycheck and storing the remainder of the money away in case her boss ever returned. George was so grateful, he doubled Verity's paycheck and gave her the rest of the week off while George took care of some business.
George slept for a few hours afterwards, waking up just as the sun began peeking over the horizon. It was the first sunrise he had witnessed for months, and probably the most beautiful he had seen in a lifetime. He leapt eagerly from bed, digging through his closet in search of some good robes to put on. He had yet to change out of his asylum uniform and stolen cloak. He picked out a pair of forest-green robes with a gold "G" embroidered on the chest pocket. He threw it on over a pair of jeans and left the shop for a stroll through Diagon Alley.
There were already a few witches and wizards strolling past the shops, happily chatting away with their companions. George breathed in the crisp, cool morning air, staring up at the blue-violet sky. By time George found himself by the brick wall separating Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron, the alley was already packed with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes, and George decided he owed someone a visit.
George was surprised the find the Leaky Cauldron not busy at all compared to the streets of Diagon Alley. A few families sat yawning at their tables with their breakfast in front of them. Tom, the bartender, sat cleaning a glass behind the bar, and a few waitresses could be seen cleaning tables. George took a seat at a table, putting his hood up inconspicuously. As he predicted, a waitress with long, copper brown hair approached the table, asking him if she could help him.
George held his best poker face. "I'm looking for an Autumn Davies." He said in a gruff voice, tilting his head so his hood overshadowed his face
"That would be me." Autumn said, placing one hand on her hip and using the other to lean on the table. "What business do you have with me in particular sir?"
"I've been sent to tell you that your brother, Roger Davies, has recently been released from St. Dimentia's Asylum for Witches and Wizards, and has been brought home by his parents. He has been diagnosed as completely cured of all mental illnesses."
George could see the smile on Autumn's face. "Is that all?" she asked.
"That is all." George said.
Autumn nodded. "Have a nice day sir." She said, walking away from the table.
George pulled down his hood, rising from his seat to follow Autumn. He caught up to her, spun her around, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Autumn kissed back.
"Well?" George asked.
Autumn paused to tousle George's red hair before answering. "I didn't think it would take you THAT long." She giggled.
So here George was now. Back home in his apartment, his life back in one piece again. He had asked Autumn to stay with him in the apartment since he had the room. That way, Autumn wouldn't have her rent at the Leaky Cauldron taken from her paycheck. She had accepted, and was now sleeping soundly in Fred's old bed on the other side of the room. George left the window open, returning to bed silently as possible, as not to wake her up. After pondering the events following his escape from the asylum, he finally fell into a calm sleep.
George woke to find himself back in the field outside of the forest. He was leaned against the large, living tree, and all of his wounds from previous nightmares had healed. The grass swayed softly in the breeze, and the sun poured it's light out over the field.
George stood up slowly, looking around at the field. The dark woods where his nightmares had taken place seemed so far off now. He didn't plan on returning anytime soon. He seemed content where he was. Everything was peaceful, and the future was bright. Spying a palm-sized rock at his feet, George picked it up, rolling it around absentmindedly in his hands as he stared off into the open fields opposite to the woods. They were practically calling to George. He could feel the promise of great joy and opportunity emanating from their direction. They were welcoming him with open arms.
Looking down at the rock in hand, George turned to the tree, placing one hand on its trunk. Just as before, it sent a surge of life and power through him, filling him with energy, making him feel more alive than ever. Holding the rock in his hand and using the sharp end like a quill, George carved a large heart into the tree, writing the initials "G.W and A.D" into the bark. When he was done, he dropped the rock back onto the ground, and turned away from the tree.
It was nothing but smooth sailing ahead. George walked merrily towards the open fields, the sun bathing his body in light. George pursed his lips together and began whistling a simple tune as he tread through the tall grass. He was out of the woods now, and he was ready for whatever the future had in store.