XXVIII
Thalia’s idea of “open defiance” had sparked a wildfire of rebellion that spread through the student body like Fiendfyre. The students hadn’t broken a single rule; they had simply unearthed the most obscure and ridiculous regulations from the annals of Hogwarts’ history and wielded them like weapons. It was a battle of wits, and the students were winning.
On Wednesday morning, the chaos reached a new level. The moment Umbridge stepped into the Great Hall, the entire student body rose as one and launched into a boisterous rendition of the school song. The cacophony was deafening as students improvised their own melodies, some slow and mournful, others fast and jaunty. The enchanted ceiling seemed to tremble with the force of their voices. Umbridge stood frozen in the doorway, her face a shade of puce that clashed horribly with her pink cardigan. The students roared through the verses, their grins wide and defiant. After all, they were simply following the student code of 1793, which clearly stated that the Headmaster or Headmistress must be greeted with song.
By Friday, the antics had escalated. A group of seventh years shuffled into Defence Against the Dark Arts clad in full suits of armor borrowed from the castle corridors. The clanking and creaking of metal drowned out Umbridge’s attempts to speak, and the students claimed they were simply honoring the code of 1847, which required protective gear for dueling lessons. The sight of the seventh years struggling to sit in their desks without toppling over had the younger students in stitches, while Umbridge’s shrill voice rose to an almost inhuman pitch.
The following week, the boys of Hogwarts banded together for another act of defiance. They showed up to classes wearing borrowed school skirts and kilts, citing the rule that kilts must be worn on Burn’s Night—a tradition in January. Since they had missed the date, they argued, they were celebrating the holiday in May instead. The sight of the Gryffindor Quidditch team striding into the Great Hall in full kilts, tartan sashes draped over their shoulders, sent the entire student body into hysterics. Even the professors struggled to keep straight faces, though McGonagall’s lips twitched in a way that suggested she was secretly enjoying the spectacle.
“It’s quite nice actually, wearing a kilt. A bit of air flow in this summer heat is a nice reprieve.” Fred had joked, causing loud raucous laughter.
On Friday night, the Great Hall was transformed into a scene of unexpected elegance as students arrived in formal robes and ball gowns, their laughter and chatter echoing through the corridors. It was a delightful rebellion, inspired by an obscure 1902 school rule requiring formal attire for Friday dinners. Many had repurposed their Yule Ball outfits, reveling in the chance to dress up again.
Thalia, however, had been hesitant. She had borrowed Angelina’s backup dress, a stunning emerald green silk gown with an open back and a daring slit up to her mid-thigh. At first, she adamantly refused to wear it, her self-consciousness flaring despite the girls' assurances. But they had been relentless, hemming the dress and insisting she sit for hair and makeup. Her curls were styled into a low bun with delicate ringlets framing her face, and light champagne-toned makeup highlighted her features.
When she finally looked in the mirror, she couldn’t deny that she looked beautiful. But the real reward came when she descended into the common room. George’s reaction was instant—his eyes lit up, his grin spreading wide across his face.
“Could I have the honour of escorting you to dinner?” he asked with an exaggerated bow, his tone playful but his gaze full of admiration.
Thalia couldn’t help but laugh, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Of course, kind sir,” she replied, dipping into a mock curtsy.
Taking her arm, George led her out of the common room, his chest puffed out dramatically as if escorting royalty. Her laughter mingled with the hum of the castle, lightening the atmosphere.
Actually eating in their formal attire proved to be more of a challenge than anyone anticipated. The reams of tulle and silk crowded the benches, forcing everyone to shuffle closer than usual. There were several incidents of people accidentally sitting on others’ dresses or stepping on trailing trains, followed by hasty apologies and bursts of laughter. The atmosphere was light and festive, with the entire hall buzzing with energy.
Umbridge, however, had not shared in the merriment. Her expression had darkened the moment the students began filing in, their formalwear blatantly flouting her usual order. By the time everyone was seated, she had practically stormed out, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor as she disappeared through the staff doors.
Taking full advantage of her absence, Thalia slipped into her old spot at the Gryffindor table, smiling as George’s arm instantly snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to his side. She had blushed as he had bent down to whisper in her ear, his breath tickling against her neck, “You look beautiful.”
As Thalia took in the lively scenes around her, a wide smile spread across her face when her eyes landed on Nova and Neville sitting together. The two were deep in conversation, completely absorbed in each other. Neville's cheeks carried a permanent pink flush, his eyes twinkling with a mix of shyness and admiration as he watched Nova speak. Nova, in turn, wore a radiant smile, nodding enthusiastically as she leaned slightly toward him, her excitement evident in every gesture.
The castle buzzed with an energy it hadn’t seen in years. Students poured over the ancient rulebooks in the library, searching for more forgotten laws to exploit. The chaos was exhilarating, a collective middle finger to Umbridge’s oppressive regime. Her strict adherence to the rules had backfired spectacularly; every obscure regulation the students unearthed became a new form of rebellion.
Umbridge’s frustration was evident in every stiff movement and every barked command that went ignored. The more she tried to assert control, the more the students pushed back, their creativity and camaraderie growing with each act of defiance. The castle itself seemed to come alive, as though it, too, was laughing at the absurdity of it all.
The twins, true to their word, had elevated their chaos to an art form. Their pranks had evolved into meticulously timed operations, with confetti cannons, paint explosions, and glitter bombs detonating across the castle with unnerving precision. Wildfire Whizzbangs zipped and whirled through open classroom doors and windows, leaving startled professors and students alike scrambling to dodge the pandemonium. Yet, the twins were never caught. They had mastered the art of alibis, placing themselves in lessons or at the farthest reaches of the castle when the pranks went off.
The student body, united in silent rebellion, refused to betray them. The laughter and joy these disruptions brought were a welcome reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the school under Umbridge's rule. At first, Thalia had worried—about punishments, about the potential wrath of the new headmistress—but as the days went on, her anxiety eased. She began to notice something she hadn’t seen in the twins for a long time: a spark of mischief and joy. Since their ban from Quidditch and Dumbledore’s departure, a heaviness had lingered over them, but now they were lighter, freer, and happier. Watching them regain their fire brought a warmth to her heart and for the first time in a long while, Hogwarts felt like home again.
.~.~.~.
Thalia stood in the entrance hall, absently watching the bustling students around her as she waited for the twins; she had hoped they’d show up in time for lunch. The stone walls echoed with the footsteps of those hurrying between lessons and the dining hall, the air thick with the chatter and energy of the midday rush. She’d only half-listened to the conversation between Ernie, Hannah, Nova, and Kristen, her mind still preoccupied with this morning’s events. From what she had gathered, the twins had outdone themselves again, freezing the corridor outside the Slytherin Common Room and creating an impromptu ice rink The image of a group of students—including Draco Malfoy—slipping and sliding, trying to regain their balance, had the Hufflepuffs in stitches. Ernie had even imitated Malfoy’s high-pitched scream, which had sent the girls into hysterical laughter; however Thalia was only able to offer a distracted smile.
Despite the lighthearted conversation around her, Thalia couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest. She kept replaying the moment from earlier that morning when Harry had rushed over to the twins as they walked her to her Transfiguration lesson. There had been a hurried, whispered conversation between Harry, Hermione, and a stressed-looking Ron, their faces tight with some unspoken concern. And since then? The twins had been noticeably absent from their usual routine, no longer accompanying her to and from classes or performing their usual tricks and jokes in the corridors. It was rare to not know where the twins were.
She understood that they were busy, but the sudden shift left her with a lingering sense of worry. The rhythmic shuffle of feet and the distant clatter of silverware from the Great Hall barely registered as she gazed absently at the marble staircase, waiting for George and Fred to appear. Hoping they would have wide smiles and twinkling eyes. But, something was off, and it gnawed at her.
The bustling entrance hall seemed to blur around Thalia as a flash of fiery orange hair came into view. George appeared suddenly, his hands grasping hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. His face was alive with a storm of emotions—excitement flickering behind worry, and something deeper she couldn’t quite place. His brown eyes locked onto hers, and his voice was low but urgent.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered, the words trembling with meaning.
Caught off guard, Thalia blinked at him, her mind racing. “Of course I do. What’s going on?”
George’s eyes darted around the entrance hall, scanning the crowd like a hawk. “Not here,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the chatter of students. “I’ll explain everything if you come with me. Please?” There was a plea in his tone that sent a ripple of unease through her.
She hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Alright.”
Turning to her friends, she called out a hurried goodbye, her voice tinged with uncertainty. She barely had time to grab her bag before George pulled her into his side, his arm wrapping protectively around her shoulders. The gesture was warm and reassuring, but the urgency in his movements kept her on edge. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured, “I’m so glad I found you.”
Without another word, George set off, his pace brisk as he navigated the castle corridors. They weaved through clusters of students heading to lunch, George expertly sidestepping bodies and steering her out of sight of any professors or inquisitorial squad members. The further they went, the more the familiar hum of Hogwarts faded, replaced by the quiet echo of their footsteps against the stone floors.
Thalia’s pulse quickened as they climbed the final staircase. She realised where he was leading her just as George reached the door to the Astronomy Tower. He unlocked it with a flick of his wand and gently guided her inside.
The air was cooler here, a draught spiralling down the staircase and encasing them. George closed the door behind them, and the muffled sounds of the castle disappeared, leaving only the faint whistle of wind through the high windows and their breathing. He led her up the spiral staircase, pausing only when they reached the top.
“George,” Thalia said softly, her voice breaking the stillness. “What’s going on? You’re worrying me.”
The sprawling view of the castle grounds, bathed in the golden hues of the afternoon, was breathtaking, but George barely seemed to notice. He turned away from the horizon, his jaw tight and his expression uncertain as he glanced at Thalia. His attempt at a smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“This isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he began, his voice low and strained, as though he were battling against the words. His hand raked through his already disheveled hair, the gesture betraying his nerves. “There’s just not enough time.”
Something in his tone made Thalia’s chest tighten, her worry growing with every passing second. Before she could speak, something in George seemed to shift and in two purposeful strides he had closed the space between them. He stood so close now that she could see the faint freckles on his nose, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes and the way his lashes cast shadows over his cheeks.
He took a steadying breath as his hands rose, trembling slightly, until they cupped her face gently. His touch was warm and grounding, his thumbs brushing softly against her skin as though she might disappear if he let go.
George took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned down. Their foreheads touched, and she could feel the faintest tremor in him, a vulnerability he rarely let show. “This is all I’ve wanted,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the words carrying a raw sincerity that sent her heart racing. “For months, all I can think about is you. This moment.”
Thalia’s breath hitched as his words settled over her, a warmth blooming in her chest. Slowly, a timid but genuine smile spread across her face, her nerves melting away under the intensity of his confession.
“I wanted this to be perfect,” George murmured, his voice gentle yet edged with frustration. He wasn’t looking directly into her eyes but rather tracing the contours of her face, as if trying to commit every detail to memory—the way the light caught in her hair, the curve of her lips, the way her brows knit together in quiet concern.
“I wish I could do this in a way that you deserve,” he continued, his words quieter now, as though he was speaking his thoughts aloud rather than speaking directly to her. “To make it special… something unforgettable.” There was a wistfulness in his voice, a longing that made Thalia’s chest tighten.
Then his eyes finally locked onto hers, and the sheer intensity of emotion in them stole her breath. “But everything has changed,” he admitted, a flicker of frustration and sorrow flashing across his face. He let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head. “And Merlin, I wish we had more time. It never feels like enough time when I’m with you.”
The weight of his words settled between them, thick with unspoken fears and the ache of uncertainty. His fingers twitched before moving, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of her cheek before tucking a stray curl behind her ear, his touch was warm, reverent. A small smile ghosted across his lips as she instinctively leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth and comfort he offered.
“I don’t know when I’ll get this chance again,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper now, raw and honest. “And I know if I don’t do this now… I’ll regret it.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and before Thalia could process them, his lips were on hers. The kiss was tentative at first, soft and searching, as though asking for permission. Her heart stuttered, but instinct took over. Rising onto her tiptoes, she pressed closer, her hand resting against his chest where she could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Her other arm looped around his neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. The gentle tug seemed to erase any lingering hesitation, and George responded in kind, his lips moving against hers with newfound certainty.
The world around them seemed to dissolve, the distant sounds of the castle fading into nothingness. It was just the two of them, caught in a moment that felt both fleeting and infinite. Every touch, every movement, spoke volumes—of longing, of relief, of emotions too big for words.
As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the space between them, Thalia couldn’t suppress the soft laughter that bubbled up, light and breathless. George’s wide grin matched hers, his cheeks tinged a deep shade of red that had nothing to do with the breeze coming off the Black Lake. His hands still rested at her waist, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go, grounding himself in the reality of what had just happened.
Standing on her tiptoes once more, Thalia gently ran her fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth the tousled strands he had anxiously raked through moments before. Her touch lingered as her fingers traced down to his jaw, her thumb brushing against his skin with playful affection. Meeting his gaze, her eyes twinkled with mischief as she whispered, “Took you long enough.”
George groaned dramatically, throwing his head back before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. “You have no idea, Winterbourne,” he chuckled, his voice laced with relief and something deeper—something that felt a lot like home.
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the world outside their little bubble fading into insignificance. The steady rise and fall of George’s chest against hers, the way his fingers traced absent patterns along her back—it was a moment she wished she could freeze in time.
Eventually, though, George shifted, reluctantly pulling away as he glanced down at his battered watch. His expression darkened, the lightheartedness from moments ago replaced with something heavier. “We don’t have much time,” he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. He hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist. “And we need to talk. I probably should have told you this before…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering with something unreadable—remorse, maybe, or guilt.
Without another word, he took her hand and gently guided her toward the wall, sinking down against it before pulling her into his lap. Thalia settled against his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear both comforting and ominous.
George exhaled, his breath ruffling her hair as he pressed his lips against the top of her head. When he finally spoke, his voice was thicker, quieter. “We’re leaving, Lia,” he murmured, the weight of those words settling between them like a storm about to break.
Thalia’s breath hitched as her head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto his. “Who? What?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. A lump formed in her throat, and she fought to swallow the wave of emotion threatening to crash over her. The tears welling in her eyes blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall—not yet. She needed to understand.
George exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around hers as if bracing himself. “Fred and I,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re leaving Hogwarts.”
The words sent a jolt through her, a mix of confusion and dread settling deep in her stomach. “Why?” she choked out, her hands gripping the fabric of his jumper like a lifeline, as if holding onto him could somehow keep him here.
George sighed, brushing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. “Lia, you know we’ve never been academic. We’ve always just… coasted through school. But for the first time, we’ve found something real, a purpose.” He hesitated, his expression softening. “If I’m honest, the only reason we’ve stayed this long is because of you. I didn’t want to leave you.” His lips quirked into a small, sad smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Thalia’s breath came in shallow bursts, her mind racing to find an argument, a reason for him to stay. But before she could speak, George continued, his voice growing heavier. “And Harry needs us, Lia. He needs a distraction, and we’re the only ones who can give it to him. We owe him more than we could ever repay, and this seems simple. A way we can actually help.”
The weight of his words settled between them, thick and unshakable. Damn his loyalty she thought. Thalia swallowed hard, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She had known things were changing—had felt the shift in the air—but she hadn’t expected this. Not yet. Not so soon.
“A purpose?” Thalia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She hadn’t meant for the small, watery smile to appear, but the moment she saw the way George’s eyes lit up, she couldn’t stop it.
“We got confirmation a couple of months back,” he said, his words tumbling out in excitement. “We got a lease for a shop in Diagon Alley. We’re actually going to have our own joke shop.” He let out a breathless laugh, the kind that came from pure exhilaration, his entire face alight with passion.
Thalia felt a lump in her throat, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness. How could she be upset when he looked like this—when he was talking about something he loved, something he and Fred had worked so hard for? The weight of her own emotions shifted, and suddenly, she felt selfish for wanting to keep him here. He deserved this. They both did.
“I can’t wait for the grand tour,” she said, her excitement growing as she leaned into his energy.
George beamed at her, squeezing her hands. “Lia, you have no idea how perfect it is. Two whole floors for all the merchandise, an office and a storeroom out back, and an apartment upstairs. It’s like it was designed for us.”
Thalia listened intently as George spoke, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement. He painted vivid pictures of the shop’s interior—shelves lined with dazzling products, trick wands stacked neatly beside Skiving Snackboxes, bright banners and posters overhead boasting their latest inventions. His hands moved animatedly as he described the work still to be done, the endless hours of testing, designing, and perfecting.
“It’s almost perfect timing,” he continued, his voice brimming with anticipation. “If we leave now, we can spend the next couple of months creating stock and making the shop absolutely perfect before opening in time for the summer holidays.”
Thalia smiled, warmth blooming in her chest at how much this meant to him. “I couldn’t be happier for the two of you,” she said, squeezing his hand. “It’s all falling into place.”
“Not quite,” George murmured, a teasing glint in his eye. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But it will.”
Thalia narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. “And what exactly does that mean?”
His smirk widened. “Everything will be perfect in about two months,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you’ll be there.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, her heart stumbling over itself. The way he said it—so certain, so natural—sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request. It was a fact.
Thalia blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I’ll be there?” she repeated, her voice laced with curiosity.
George’s smirk widened as he leaned in slightly, his arms wrapping around her. “Of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Once you’re done with school and exams, you’ll come to the shop. Help us set things up, test out products—Merlin knows we’ll need a reliable test subject.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, but there was something deeper in his expression, something softer.
Thalia let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “So, what? You just assume I’ll drop everything and spend my summer in Diagon Alley with you?”
George squeezed her slightly, tilting his head. “Well… yeah.” He grinned, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I want you there. Fred does too. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”
Her heart swelled at his words. The idea of spending the summer with George, helping him build this dream, being part of something so full of life and laughter—it was intoxicating.
A slow smile spread across her lips. “Well, when you put it like that…” She nudged him playfully. “How could I possibly say no?”
George let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, drawing her to him dramatically. “Thank Merlin, I was prepared to beg.”
Thalia laughed, leaning into him, her worries melting away, if only for a moment.
The warm afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the Astronomy Tower, casting a soft golden light across the stone walls. The air was still and calm, a gentle breeze stirring the curtains, but it didn’t matter. In the quiet, Thalia could feel the warmth of George’s presence all around her, his steady heartbeat matching her own, the tension in his shoulders the only reminder that time was slipping away, but for now, it was just them.
She knew he was on edge, his eyes flicking to his watch every few moments, the urgency in his movements impossible to ignore. Yet, for these final moments, she wanted to hold on to the feeling of safety he gave her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, savoring the simple comfort of being in his arms.
When he sighed and glanced at his watch again, the unspoken truth settled in her chest. The time had come. She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze, the flicker of reluctance in her eyes matching the soft sadness in his.
"Can I walk with you?" she asked quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he looked at her. "Lia," he said, his voice thick with concern. "I don’t want you to get caught up in this."
"I won’t," she promised quickly, her voice pleading, though she tried to mask it with a smile. "I’ll leave just before anything happens. I swear."
For a long moment, he searched her face, as if trying to find any sign of hesitation or doubt. When he found none, he sighed, his expression softening. "Okay, let’s go find Fred."
He stood, offering his hand to help her up. She took it, her fingers curling around his, and let him pull her to her feet, the weight of the moment pressing in on her chest. As they began walking through the dimly lit corridors, their footsteps echoing softly, Thalia felt a desperate need to be close to him. She slid her arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to his side, and he responded by wrapping his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in. The quiet chuckle that rumbled in his chest and the way he bent to press a lingering kiss to the top of her head made her smile.
"It’s only a couple of months, Badger. It’ll fly by," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring, but the way he held her tighter, as if afraid to let go, told her he wasn’t as sure as he sounded.
"I know," she whispered back, though the knot in her throat made the words feel heavy.
"And we’ve got the whole summer after that," he continued, his voice full of hope. "I’ll introduce you to the rest of my family. We’ll eat ice cream at the parlour down the street from the shop. We’ll stay up late, talking nonsense, just like we always do. We could even invite the Gryffindor lot round for a game night."
Thalia felt a tear slip down her cheek at the thought, the warmth of his words mingling with the cold ache in her chest. She pulled herself closer, wanting to hold on to every moment, to every word, before they were torn apart by the ticking clock.
"But before I go," George’s voice grew more serious, his grip tightening on her, "I need you to promise me something. Stay out of trouble, Lia. Don’t give her a reason to hurt you, not for the sake of some petty punishment."
Thalia nodded, her throat tight as she swallowed the lump that had formed there. "I promise."
"And write," he added, his voice soft but firm. "Every day. Multiple times a day. I want to hear about everything. I want to know how you’re doing, what you’re thinking, even if it’s just nonsense."
The tears came then, unbidden, as she leaned into him, "I promise," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’ll write. Every day."
The promise seemed to settle something deep inside George, and he nodded, leading Thalia through the corridors in silence, neither of them rushing to fill the space with anything more.
They stopped in the third-floor corridor, the quiet hum of the castle's afternoon activity far away. George quickly glanced both ways, making sure no one was around, before casually hopping onto the window sill. Grabbing a hold of both of her hands he gently pulled Thalia to stand between his legs. His eyes softened as he looked at her, the concern still lingering, but there was something more now—an understanding, a shared resolve. With a tender swipe, he brushed away the tears that had gathered on her cheeks and clung to her eyelashes.
"We'll be okay," he murmured, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him.
Thalia nodded, her body instinctively leaning into him as his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her closer. The quiet comfort of his presence was enough to calm the emotion rising in her chest, if only for a moment.
"Who knew at the beginning of this year we'd end up here?" George chuckled softly, the sound of it warm and familiar.
Thalia snorted, a laugh escaping her despite herself. "If you'd told me back in that corridor, dripping with paint, that this was where we'd end up, I would've hexed you into next year," she laughed, the memory of her fiery reaction still vivid in her mind.
George grinned, the image of her hot-headedness making him smile wider. "Best prank we've ever pulled," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Classic case of right time, right place," Thalia replied with a smile, her eyes twinkling as she met his gaze.
The quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching, and Thalia turned to see Fred, weighed down with two duffel bags and two satchels, making his way toward them. The sight of him brought a bittersweet smile to her lips, but her heart twisted in her chest, knowing that this was the moment she had been dreading—the moment of goodbye.
Stepping away from George, Thalia threw her arms around Fred, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you both," she whispered into his ear, her voice thick with emotion. "Take care of each other, and please, stay safe."
Fred only answered with a firm squeeze, his arms tightening around Thalia for a brief moment before he stepped back, handing two of the bags off to George. The weight of the moment seemed to settle between them, the unspoken goodbye lingering in the air.
"You ready?" Fred asked, his voice a little rough, the emotion catching in his throat.
George glanced over at Thalia, his gaze soft but resolute. "As ready as I'll ever be." He gave her a final, lingering look before slinging the bags over his shoulder. The two brothers began walking down the corridor, their footsteps echoing in the quiet hall as they distanced themselves from her. Thalia's heart clenched as her eyes stayed trained on their retreating backs, the weight of their departure settling deeper with each step they took.
"George! Wait!" she called out, her voice trembling as she rushed after him. Her feet barely hit the ground as she sprinted, her breath quickening with the urgency of the moment. Before he could even fully turn around, she flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she pulled him into a kiss, her heart pounding in her chest.
"I've been wanting to do that for months too," she whispered breathlessly as they pulled apart, her forehead resting against his. George let out a low chuckle, his eyes sparkling.
The sound of a commotion behind them had both of them turning in surprise, Thalia still hanging from George’s neck. Fred was running in excited circles, his arms flailing wildly as he shouted, "Thank you Merlin, thank you Morgana, thank you sweet Baby Jesus!" His voice was full of exuberance, the pure joy radiating from him like a beacon.
Thalia couldn't help but laugh, her heart lighter in the face of Fred's ridiculous antics. George, however, shot him a teasing look. "Fred, if you keep shouting like that, the entire school is going to start heading this way. Shut it."
Fred, not at all deterred, completed one last celebratory lap, his arms flailing like a windmill, before he finally ran over to the pair. With a wide grin, he pulled them both into a tight hug, his excitement contagious.
"Welcome to the family, Winterbourne," Fred said, his voice warm and full of affection. "He hasn't been able to shut up about you since we met."
Thalia smiled, her heart swelling with the warmth of their acceptance. "Thanks, Fred," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. As she looked at George, she could see the love and pride in his eyes, and it made everything feel just a little bit easier.
Stepping back, Thalia forced a smile, "Now go," she said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. "You've got chaos to cause."
Fred gave her a mock salute, his usual mischief twinkling in his eyes, though she swore she saw something softer beneath it. As he turned, already striding away, he called over his shoulder, "Go down to the Entrance Hall in about ten minutes—best seat in the house!"
George lingered for just a second longer, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach for her again, but knowing if he did he’d never want to let go. Instead, he settled for a quick peck on her lips, his grin cheeky but his eyes betraying something deeper. "Two months, Winterbourne!" he called as he rushed after his brother, his voice filled with certainty.
And just like that, they were gone.
The corridor felt too quiet in their absence, the air too still. Thalia stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty space where they had been, as if expecting them to turn back. But they didn’t. The reality of their departure hit her like a crashing wave, and she felt her chest tighten. A single tear slipped down her cheek, then another, until she was unable to hold them back any longer.
She was proud of them—Merlin, she was so proud. They had found their purpose, their future, and she wouldn't dare take that away from them. But the twins had become her anchor, the light in the darkest corners of her life. Without them, she wasn’t sure how steady she could stand.
Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, she wiped at her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and forced herself to move. There would be time to grieve later, but right now, she refused to miss their grand finale.
The castle was alive with its usual midday bustle, students weaving through the corridors in a steady stream of chatter and laughter. Thalia paid the crowds almost no attention, keeping her head down, lost in thought.
A sudden shout from behind made her pause mid-step.
She turned just in time to see Lee, Angelina, and Ginny sprinting toward her, their robes billowing behind them, their school bags thumping against their sides in an uneven rhythm. Angelina reached her first, doubling over with her hands on her knees, panting heavily.
“George—made us—promise,” she gasped between breaths, “to find you—at exactly 2:15.”
Thalia couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. “Of course he did,” she chuckled, shaking her head.
Lee, catching his breath much faster, slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the entrance hall, seemingly ignoring her red puffy eyes. “Any idea what they’re planning?” he asked, his tone half-curious, half-apprehensive.
Thalia sighed, giving them all a knowing look. “Their grand finale. A prank to end all pranks.”
Ginny groaned, running a hand through her fiery hair in an exasperated gesture that was so reminiscent of her brother it made Thalia’s stomach sink.
“Mum is going to have a heart attack,” Ginny muttered, already bracing for the inevitable fallout.
The group’s laughter echoed through the corridors as they made their way toward the Entrance Hall, their spirits lifted by the anticipation of whatever madness the twins had in store. Lee kept Thalia close at his side, the two of them exchanging increasingly ridiculous guesses about the nature of the prank—each idea more outrageous than the last.
“Maybe they’ve charmed Peeves to follow Umbridge around singing a love ballad,” Lee suggested, his face alight with mischief.
Thalia snorted. “Or replaced all the tea in her office with Pustule Potion. Can you imagine?”
Their shared laughter was still ringing between them when they stepped into the Entrance Hall, where Nova and Kristen were already waiting. The moment Nova spotted Thalia, her expression softened, concern flickering behind her warm eyes. Though her face was mostly back to normal, there was still a slight redness to her nose and a lingering trace of her earlier tears. Without hesitation, she pulled Thalia into a tight hug.
“Are you okay?” she murmured, squeezing her just a little tighter.
Thalia smiled, comforted by the familiar warmth of her friend’s embrace. “I’m fine,” she assured her, giving a gentle squeeze in return.
Kristen crossed her arms, casting Thalia an amused look. “So this is why George practically accosted us in the hallway this morning,” she mused, “I was almost convinced he was going to force up to participate in the unbreakable vow.”
Thalia rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips twitching. “Did he ask all of you to babysit me?”
“Not babysit, per se,” Lee said with a smirk, throwing an arm lazily around her shoulders. “More like ‘keep an eye on’—his words, not mine.”
“Not that he needed to, of course,” Angelina added, her smile warm and reassuring. She nudged Thalia’s arm. “You’re one of us now. An honorary Gryffindor.”
Thalia felt a rush of affection for them all. She had never needed a title to know where she belonged, but hearing it said out loud, feeling the weight of their loyalty and friendship—it meant more than she could ever put into words.
Before Thalia could even begin to voice her gratitude, a deafening bang reverberated through the castle, shaking the very walls. A moment of stunned silence followed before the sound of frantic footsteps and panicked shouts filled the air.
From behind her, Ginny let out a long-suffering sigh. “And so it begins.”
Thalia barely had time to turn in response before students came flooding into the Entrance Hall from the upper floors, their expressions ranging from exhilarated amusement to absolute horror.
A cluster of Slytherins stumbled into view first, their robes dripping with a thick, translucent slime that glistened under the candlelight. A collective gasp rippled through the hall as an unmistakable stench—something between rotting cabbage and spoiled dungbombs—filled the air. Nearby students recoiled, covering their noses and scrambling away from the unfortunate victims, who were gagging and cursing under their breath.
From another direction, a second group emerged, leaving behind wet, muddy footprints as they sloshed across the stone floor. Their robes were soaked through, strands of slimy weeds and even a few lily pads clinging to their clothing. Someone yanked a small fish from their sleeve with a look of pure revulsion.
Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd, students eagerly exchanging details of the chaos unfolding above. From the hushed, excited murmurs, the group pieced together the key events—someone had transformed the entire Charms corridor into a murky swamp, while the fifth floor had fallen victim to an explosion of stink sap.
Thalia met her friends’ eyes, her heart pounding with a mixture of awe and hilarity. There was no doubt about it.
“The twins,” they all muttered in unison.
As if summoned by the very chaos they had unleashed, the twins burst through the Entrance Hall, their laughter ringing out, wild and carefree, echoing against the vaulted ceiling. Students parted instinctively as they both ran, grinning widely as their eyes sparkled. Thalia couldn’t help but beam at the sight of them, though she teasingly shook her head when George shot her a cheeky wink.
Skidding to a stop near the massive oak front doors, Fred turned, breathless with exhilaration. “Don’t worry—there’s plenty more chaos to come!” he called, his voice carrying across the hall like a battle cry.
A sickly sweet voice slithered down from the staircase above.
“Oh, really?”
The air seemed to freeze. Every student stiffened as Dolores Umbridge descended step by deliberate step, her heels clicking against the stone floor, her toad-like face twisted in something akin to triumph. Her beady eyes flickered with malice as she surveyed the pandemonium. “So, you think it’s amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”
Fred furrowed his brows, feigning deep contemplation. He cast a glance toward George before turning back to her, utterly fearless. “Pretty amusing, yeah.”
A nervous ripple of laughter spread through the students, quickly silenced by Umbridge’s venomous glare. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, the sound of frenzied footsteps echoed from the corridor. Filch came barrelling into the hall, his face alight with twisted glee, a crumpled parchment clutched in his gnarled hand.
“I’ve got it, Headmistress! Got the form—” he panted, his voice giddy with anticipation, “—and the whips are waiting!”
A sharp inhale caught in Thalia’s throat. Her stomach twisted, her fingers curling into fists. Her eyes instantly sought George’s. He caught her gaze and, with a small, reassuring smile, gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.
Umbridge’s lips curled into a grotesque mockery of a smile. She practically vibrated with anticipation as she took a step closer to the twins. “You two are about to learn,” she purred, “what happens to wrongdoers in my school.”
Thalia saw it then—clear as day. This wasn’t about discipline. This wasn’t about rules. This was about power. About control. And Umbridge was enjoying it.
Fred let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Y’know what, George?”
George hummed thoughtfully, as if he were considering something trivial. “What’s that, Fred?”
“I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”
A slow grin spread across George’s face. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself. I think it’s time we test our talents in the real world.”
“Definitely.”
Their words flowed seamlessly, like a perfectly rehearsed script, sending a ripple of hushed excitement through the crowd.
Before Umbridge or Filch could react, the twins lifted their wands high.
“ Accio brooms! ”
From somewhere above, a violent crashing echoed through the castle. A series of loud bangs and metallic screeches followed as two broomsticks came hurtling through the corridors at breakneck speed. Several students ducked, yelping as the enchanted brooms whipped past their heads, dragging behind them a thick, broken chain. Clearly, Umbridge had attempted to lock them up—an attempt that had failed spectacularly.
With a final earsplitting clang, the brooms skidded to a halt in front of their owners. The twins wasted no time in mounting them.
Fred turned to face the seething Headmistress, his grin wicked. “We won’t be seeing you.”
George smirked. “Yeah, don’t bother keeping in touch.”
Then, spinning his broom in a smooth arc, he paused in front of Thalia, his mischievous grin softening into something far more sincere. He met her gaze, the world around them seeming to fade for just a moment.
“But you ,” he said, voice quieter now, “you promised to write every day.”
Thalia let out a watery laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as tears slipped free. She couldn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded.
With one last sweeping glance over the gathered students, Fred turned in midair. “If anyone fancies a portable swamp—like the one demonstrated upstairs—come see us at Number Ninety-Three, Diagon Alley! Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! Our new premises!”
George’s voice rang out after him. “Special discounts for all Hogwarts students— especially those committed to using our products to get rid of that old bat!"
“ STOP THEM! ” Umbridge shrieked, her voice cracking with rage.
But no one moved.
Not a single student reached for their wand. Even the faculty members exchanged silent glances but made no attempt to intervene.
Then, from the rafters, a high-pitched cackle echoed through the hall. Fred twisted in his seat, grinning up at the poltergeist. “Give her hell from us, Peeves!”
Peeves straightened midair, his wide grin almost reverent as he gave the twins a salute—his very first act of obedience in Hogwarts history.
And with that, the twins shot forward, streaking toward the open castle doors.
George cast one last glance over his shoulder, met Thalia’s eyes with a comforting smile and threw a handful of their enchanted fireworks into the air. Brilliant explosions of color lit up the Entrance Hall—sizzling reds, shimmering golds, and dazzling bursts of violet spiraled overhead, painting the ceiling in their final act of defiance.
Then, with the roar of the crowd and the stunned silence of the staff behind them, the Weasley twins disappeared into the sunset.