XXIX
Thalia wasn’t sure she had been left alone for more than a moment since the twins had left. The Gryffindors had stuck to her like glue, as if silently agreeing that she wouldn’t be left to dwell on the aching absence of George and Fred.
Lee had effortlessly stepped in, taking over the twins' old routine, meeting her outside the Great Hall each morning with a dramatic bow and a cheeky grin before escorting her to class. He made it his personal mission to keep her spirits up, spinning wild stories, cracking witty jokes, and teasing her mercilessly whenever she looked too lost in thought. However, he had an uncanny ability to know exactly when she needed a distraction and when she needed quiet companionship, balancing the two effortlessly. He never mentioned why he was doing it, but Thalia knew. And she loved him all the more for it.
Lunchtimes and dinners were filled with the warmth of Nova and Kristen’s company. They made sure there was always a seat saved for her, greeting her with easy smiles and knowing glances. Nova, ever perceptive, had a way of lightening the mood when Thalia felt the weight of the empty space beside her. Kristen had a quiet kind of reassurance, offering gentle nudges and inside jokes that made Thalia feel like she belonged—like she wasn’t drifting. It was in these moments, amid the clatter of plates and the hum of a hundred conversations, that Thalia felt the weight of their absence lessen—just a little.
Evenings were spent curled up in the Gryffindor common room, where the crackling fire and the golden glow of candlelight wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. Laughter rang through the tower, games of Exploding Snap turned chaotic, and conversations carried late into the night. On quieter nights, she found herself tucked away in the library, the scent of parchment and ink a comforting distraction.
Still, no matter how much noise and warmth surrounded her, there were moments—brief, fleeting—where she caught herself turning, expecting to find a pair of mischievous brown eyes watching her, a teasing comment at the ready.
But George wasn’t there.
Thalia had upheld her promise to him, incorporating a trip to the Owlery before dinner into her daily routine.
One evening as the sun cast golden light through the castle windows, Thalia and Ginny made their way up the winding stone staircase toward the Owlery. The crisp air carried the distant sounds of hooting owls and the occasional flutter of wings, and the scent of parchment, ink, and straw filled the drafty corridor. The castle always felt quieter in these upper levels, giving the girls a rare moment of solitude. Thalia carefully held her letter, her daily ritual now ingrained into her routine, the paper already slightly creased from where she had folded and unfolded it throughout the day.
Ginny walked beside her, absently flipping her own letter between her fingers, her expression amused as she glanced at the thick envelope in Thalia’s hands. With a small laugh, she tilted her head toward her.
"What do you even write to him about? Your letters are always so long, and you send them once a day!"
Thalia felt the warmth creep up her neck, but she smiled, eyes dropping to the letter in her hands. "I actually put two letters in the envelope—one for George and one for Fred."
Ginny’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her lips quirking as she listened.
"Fred's are mainly nonsense," Thalia continued with a chuckle. "I tell him about Lee or Kristen’s stupid jokes—things that would make him laugh. But George..." She hesitated, her voice softer now. "George asked that I write to him about everything. Lessons, my stupid thoughts throughout the day, our friends, anything that comes to mind. Sometimes I even send him ideas for products." She shrugged, as if it wasn’t the most meaningful part of her day.
Ginny smirked, nudging her playfully. "George seemed pretty adamant that you write every day before he left," she teased, laughter dancing in her voice.
Thalia could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, but she couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at her lips.
Ginny’s knowing look sharpened, her steps slowing as she turned to fully face Thalia. Then, as if something had suddenly clicked, her eyes went wide.
"Something happened, didn’t it?" she gasped, grabbing Thalia’s arm with both hands. "Spill, Winterbourne. Now!"
Thalia let out a half-laugh, half-groan, covering her face with her hands. Of course Ginny would figure it out.
Her heart was hammering, and for a moment, she considered keeping it to herself. The moment between her and George had been too precious, too raw, something she had replayed over and over to give herself strength since he left. But this was Ginny. The girl who had been steadfast in her support, who missed the twins just as much as she did and who knew her brother better than Thalia did.
Taking a deep breath, she dropped her hands and met Ginny’s eager gaze.
"Okay," she relented, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. "But you have to promise not to make a scene."
Ginny’s grin widened. "Absolutely not. Now talk."
Thalia bit her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening as she glanced around to make sure no one else was within earshot. The castle corridors were dimly lit in the evening light, the soft flicker of torches casting long shadows against the stone walls.
Ginny, however, was relentless. She had stopped in her tracks, arms crossed, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “Don’t even think about brushing this off,” she warned. “I knew something was up! Tell me everything .”
Thalia exhaled a nervous laugh, shifting the letter between her hands as if it might somehow save her from Ginny’s interrogation. But, truthfully, she wanted to share it. Ginny would get it.
“Alright, alright,” Thalia sighed, shaking her head, but her smile was undeniable. “Before he left, we talked. And…” she hesitated for a moment, the words catching in her throat. “— we might have kissed a bit.”
Ginny’s eyes widened comically before she let out a delighted squeal, grabbing Thalia’s hands and practically bouncing on the spot. “Are you serious ?”
Thalia laughed, nodding. “We were on the Astronomy Tower and he said he would regret it if he didn’t kiss me before he left.”
Ginny let out a dramatic gasp before throwing an arm around Thalia’s shoulders, shaking her excitedly. “You realise what this means, right? You and George. Officially, unofficially , a thing.”
Thalia groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Merlin, you sound like Kristen.”
Ginny smirked. “Well, Kristen is right. And you are absolutely smitten.”
Thalia peeked through her fingers, her heart fluttering at the realisation. “Yeah... I think I am.”
Ginny beamed, nudging her playfully. “ Think ? Oh, come on, Thalia. You write to him every single day and sneak away to the Owlery like clockwork. I’d bet my last Chocolate Frog that George is hoarding your letters like a lovesick fool.”
The mental image made Thalia giggle. “Maybe,” she admitted shyly.
“Definitely,” Ginny corrected.
Thalia groaned dramatically, shoving her playfully as they continued their walk toward the Owlery, their laughter ringing through the quiet halls.
As they ambled through the quiet corridors bathed in the soft glow of twilight, Ginny chattered incessantly about Thalia and George's budding relationship. The redhead was practically bouncing on her feet as she rattled on about how wonderful it would be to have Thalia around the Burrow more often, excitedly envisioning the two of them conspiring against her brothers and having another girl to balance out the sheer amount of Weasley chaos. Her words tumbled out in a rapid animated twitter, filling the air with a contagious energy, but for all her enthusiasm, they barely registered in Thalia’s mind. Beneath her exuberance, Ginny’s rambling did little to dispel the anxiety that had been gnawing at Thalia over the past few weeks since the twins had left.
A tight knot of worry had been forming in her stomach, growing heavier with each passing day. It was an unease that even Ginny’s excitement couldn’t shake. The twins had left with their usual flair, their departure defiant and triumphant, but the silence that followed was deafening. No updates, no reassurances, no mischievous stories about their new shop—just nothing. It gnawed at her, made her restless, and now, walking side by side with Ginny, she could no longer push it down.
"Gin?" she asked hesitantly, her voice quieter now, cutting through the redhead’s excited rambling. "Have you had any letters from either of them since they left?"
Ginny’s cheerful expression faltered slightly as she considered the question. Her brows furrowed in thought, and after a brief pause, she shook her head. “I assume they’re just really busy, especially if they’re writing to you every day,” she replied with a half-hearted laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of sadness.
Thalia swallowed hard, hesitating before revealing the truth that had been gnawing at her insides. She glanced around the corridor, ensuring they were alone, before whispering, “Well, you see… they haven’t responded to anything .”
The words hung between them like a thick fog, smothering the easygoing atmosphere from moments before. The quiet that followed was no longer comfortable—it was tense, laced with an unspoken fear that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
"Wait, nothing ?" Ginny repeated, her brows furrowing deeply, concern flickering across her freckled face. The easy excitement from before was gone, replaced with something more serious—more alert.
Thalia swallowed, her throat tight, and nodded. "No," she admitted, her voice a little unsteady. "At first, I thought like you—that they were just busy setting up the shop, getting everything in order. Then, I started thinking that maybe… maybe George had taken some time to think things over and realised he’d made a mistake. It’s not like we made things official before he left." The words felt wrong even as she said them, but the doubt had wormed its way into her mind over the last couple of weeks, festering in the silence. "But now," she continued, exhaling shakily, "something just seems off ."
Her voice had pitched slightly higher with worry, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to physically hold back the storm of unease that had been steadily growing inside her.
Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes in a way that was both exasperated and fond. " Now you’re just being an idiot," she said matter-of-factly, bumping Thalia’s shoulder lightly. "Anyone with two working eyes can see how besotted George is." Her teasing tone was meant to be reassuring, but there was still an undercurrent of concern beneath it. "Honestly, the way he looks at you is gross —adorable, but gross."
Despite herself, Thalia let out a small breath of laughter, but it did little to soothe the gnawing worry in her stomach.
Ginny’s expression grew more thoughtful, and she slowed her pace slightly. "Have you received any letters from anyone else? Your parents, any family members?" she asked carefully, her eyes scanning Thalia’s face as if searching for a clue to something neither of them had yet voiced.
"I have no one outside of this castle and the twins," Thalia whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps. The weight of those words crashed down on her like a tidal wave, the realisation hitting her with the force of a physical blow. It felt like something inside her had hollowed out, leaving only the sharp ache of isolation behind.
Ginny faltered, her expression shifting from concern to something softer—something almost wounded on Thalia’s behalf. She had never heard Thalia speak of her family, not really, but she had always assumed there was someone out there who loved her, who wrote to her, who worried about her the way the Weasleys did for each other. The stark truth of Thalia’s words made her chest tighten. She wanted to ask—wanted to pry, to understand—but instinct told her this wasn’t the time. Instead, she reached out, linking her arm through Thalia’s in a quiet show of solidarity.
"I got a letter from Mum at the beginning of the week," Ginny murmured, her voice gentle, as though trying to anchor Thalia back from the depths of her despair. "But I haven't had a reply from Charlie or Bill in a while... though, to be fair, they’re not exactly the most reliable pen pals." She forced a light chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Thalia nodded absently, but the unease gnawed at her. It wasn’t just George. It wasn’t just Fred. The silence stretched further than that. And the more she thought about it, the more it felt wrong—like a whisper in the back of her mind warning her that something bigger was at play.
The owlery loomed ahead, perched high on the castle grounds, the wind howling through the stone arches. As they stepped inside, the rustling of wings and the soft coos of owls filled the air, a sound that usually brought Thalia comfort. But tonight, as she gripped the letter tightly in her fingers, all she felt was dread.
"You don't suppose someone is checking our mail, not allowing certain things through from the outside?" Thalia asked hesitantly, the words feeling absurd even as they left her mouth. The castle had always been a place of security—of learning, of friendship. But now? Now it felt like a cage, one with bars they couldn’t quite see but could feel pressing in on them.
Ginny, however, didn’t scoff. She didn’t tell Thalia she was overthinking it. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze darkening. "We do know someone psychotic enough to do that," she muttered. "I can’t imagine she’d want word of her torturous detentions getting out."
Thalia shuddered involuntarily. "But that’s a breach of privacy," Thalia murmured, shaking her head. "Surely she wouldn’t—"
Ginny let out a short, dry laugh. "Thalia, she thinks she’s the law. Do you really think she cares about privacy?" Then, as if a switch had flipped, Ginny’s eyes lit up with sudden mischief, and she immediately began rifling through her bag.
Thalia watched her with mild confusion. "What are you doing?"
"Being a sibling of the infamous Weasley twins means I’ve learnt a trick or two. I think it's time to prove our hypothesis," Ginny said matter-of-factly, still rummaging.
"And how exactly do we do that?" Thalia asked, arching a brow.
Ginny looked up triumphantly, pulling out a quill and a scrap of parchment. "Can you think of a good hiding place?"
Thalia bit her lip, thinking back to months ago—to Fred’s failed kidnapping attempt that had scared the gobstones out of her as he had dragged her behind a tapestry. "There’s a small alcove behind the tapestry at the entrance to the Charms corridor," she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
"Perfect," Ginny grinned, already scribbling furiously across the parchment. When she was finished, she handed it to Thalia, who read it with an amused smirk:
Dear Fred and George,
How’s freedom?
Thanks for the heads-up about the stash of dung bombs and prank supplies you left behind the tapestry in the Charms corridor. We’ll use them against the pink toad in your honor. Can’t wait to stock up on more supplies in the summer!
All the best,
James
Thalia snorted. "Who in Merlin’s right kneecap is James?"
"I needed an alias! And it was the first name that popped into my head!" she defended, eyes gleaming mischievously. "It’s not like I could sign off as myself! I’m not exactly eager to be on the receiving end of another one of Umbridge’s delightful detentions."
Still doubt gnawed at Thalia’s mind. She hesitated, shifting the letter between her fingers before murmuring, “If she is checking letters, won’t she be suspicious if she finds this one?”
Ginny waved off her concern with a dismissive flick of her hand. “I can list off about twelve Jameses, all in different houses, all in different years,” she said confidently. “There’s no identifying mark that can pin it to anyone. It’s ambiguous enough that no one will get in trouble, but just enough of a threat that she’ll be dying to check.”
Thalia eyed her, an amused smirk creeping across her face. “You’re exactly like your brothers, you know.”
“I try ,” Ginny said, feigning a modest shrug, though the smirk she wore was pure mischief.
Thalia laughed softly, but she couldn’t shake the unease curling in her stomach. If they were right about this—if Umbridge was controlling their mail—then what else was she interfering with? The idea of someone holding their letters hostage, of keeping them cut off from the outside world, made her feel more trapped than ever.
Still, she pushed the thought aside and focused on the plan. “So, what’s next?” she asked.
“I’ll transfigure some boxes and place them in the alcove. Make it look like an actual stash of supplies. Then, over the next couple of days, we linger—keeping an eye on the stash,” Ginny explained, looking rather pleased with herself. “If she takes the bait and confiscates it then we’ve got our answer to the mystery of the lost mail.”
Thalia let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “I think plotting and scheming must be ingrained in the Weasley DNA. You’re all as bad as each other.”
Ginny grinned, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flourish. “Why, thank you. I’ll take that as the highest compliment.”
Thalia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at her lips. That mischievous glint in Ginny’s eyes was all too familiar—it was the same look the twins got right before executing one of their brilliant, yet highly questionable, pranks.
The rustling of wings filled the cavernous space as owls shifted on their perches, some cooing softly, others eyeing Thalia with keen curiosity as she delicately tied the letter to the leg of a speckled barn owl. Even if her words never reached their intended recipients, there was something oddly comforting about writing them—spilling her thoughts onto parchment, sharing pieces of her day as if George were right there beside her. It felt like anchoring herself to him.
The owl gave a soft hoot and, with a powerful sweep of its wings, took off into the open night. Thalia followed its retreating form with her eyes, warmed by the small solace this routine provided. She let out a quiet sigh, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.
Then, shaking off the melancholy, she turned on her heel and shot Ginny a mischievous grin, her eyes glinting with newfound determination.
"Let’s set this plan in action," she said, her voice filled with purpose.
Ginny grinned back, excitement sparking in her expression. "Now that is the Thalia I like to see," she teased, looping her arm through Thalia’s as they strode toward the door.
The pair continued their way through the dimly lit corridors, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone. The castle always felt eerily quiet in the evenings, and with the tension hanging thick in the air since Umbridge’s rise to power, it had only worsened. Students spoke in hushed whispers, laughter was scarce, and the shadows stretched just a little too far.
Ginny, however, walked with the same fiery confidence as always. "Alright," she murmured as they neared the Charms corridor. "We should be quick about this. No loitering."
With a flick of her wand, a stack of dull, unimpressive-looking wooden crates materialized in the alcove, blending seamlessly into the dusty space as though they'd been forgotten for years.
"Perfect," she whispered, stepping back to admire her work. "Now we wait and see if Satan herself takes the bait."
Thalia crossed her arms, watching Ginny with a mix of amusement and admiration. "You make this look a little too easy, you know that?"
Ginny smirked. "Stick around the Weasleys long enough, and you pick up a few things." She nudged Thalia playfully. "Speaking of which, you're practically one of us now."
A warmth spread through Thalia’s chest at those words. The Weasleys had become more of a family to her than anyone else ever had, and the thought of being included among them filled her with a strange mix of joy and longing.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," she murmured, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.
Ginny returned the smile before glancing down the corridor. "Alright, mission complete. Let’s get out of here before we draw too much attention."
~.~.~.~
The following couple of days were a slow torture, each day stretching endlessly as doubt began to creep into Thalia’s mind. Had they been wrong? Overestimated Umbridge’s paranoia?
Each afternoon, between lessons, she and Ginny lingered near the tapestry at the entrance to the Charms corridor, pretending to be engaged in idle conversation while subtly keeping watch. But nothing happened. No shadowy figure creeping toward the alcove, no sign of movement from the supposed tampered mail. It remained untouched, just as they had left it.
Each free period, Thalia would position herself against the cool stone wall of the Charms corridor, her books open in her lap, though she barely retained a word she read. She tried to focus, eyes scanning the pages in front of her, but her ears were attuned to every creak, every shift of the air, every footstep echoing down the hallway. Any sign of movement near the alcove would have sent her heart racing, but each day passed the same—empty, still, undisturbed. Sometimes, Ginny would join her, slumped beside her against the wall, pretending to review her Transfiguration notes while muttering, "Any day now, she’ll take the bait."
Each evening, on their way back to the Gryffindor common room, they would check the decoy crates, half-hoping—half-dreading—that they would be gone. But every time, the boxes sat there, undisturbed, as if mocking them.
Ginny remained steadfast in her optimism, determined to keep Thalia’s spirits from sinking further. Each night she concocted a new, increasingly ridiculous theory to explain George’s silence—perhaps the shop had been overrun by a stampede of Nifflers, or maybe he and Fred had accidentally turned themselves into canaries and were waiting for the effects to wear off.
But no matter how hard Ginny tried to make her laugh, the sinking feeling in Thalia’s chest refused to fade. She couldn't shake the thought that something was wrong. George would have written back if he could.
It wasn’t until the fourth day that Thalia felt the first flicker of hope ignite in her chest—a small, tentative flame after days of nothing but doubt.
She had been sitting at the Hufflepuff table during dinner, absently pushing her food around her plate while half-listening to Hannah Abbott animatedly gossip about a supposed romance between Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy. A whole load of rubbish, in Thalia’s opinion—Luna was far too good for the likes of him. Just as she was about to tune out completely, the doors to the Great Hall burst open with a force that sent a ripple of murmurs through the students.
Umbridge stormed inside, her squat figure rigid with urgency as she scanned the hall, her beady eyes narrowing. She strode toward a cluster of her Inquisitorial Squad at the Slytherin table, whispering something in hushed, urgent tones. Within seconds, the group abandoned their meals, hastily pushing back their chairs and following her out.
Thalia’s heart pounded. This had to be it.
She quickly turned her attention to the Gryffindor table, searching for Ginny, only to find the girl completely oblivious, twirling a lock of her fiery hair around her finger while giggling at something Dean Thomas had said. Thalia groaned. Of all the times to be shamelessly flirting, Weasley.
She tried to catch Ginny’s attention with a frantic wave—nothing. A fake cough—still nothing. Growing impatient, she rolled her eyes, shoved back her chair, and marched toward the Gryffindor table.
"Gin, we need to go and send that letter, remember?" Thalia murmured as she leaned down, her voice urgent but controlled. She threw Dean a forced, polite smile, trying not to appear suspicious.
Ginny barely spared her a glance. “Yeah, after dinner, Lia,” she dismissed, waving a hand as if shooing a stray cat.
Thalia gritted her teeth. "No, Ginny, we need to send that parcel. Actually, more of a crate if you think about it," she added pointedly, emphasizing the word.
Ginny’s brow furrowed in confusion, her mind still clearly preoccupied. "Lia," she groaned, finally turning away from Dean with a dramatic sigh—only for her gaze to meet Thalia’s intense expression, eyes flicking meaningfully toward the doors.
Thalia raised her brows expectantly.
"Oh!" Ginny gasped, finally putting the pieces together.
Without hesitation, she turned to Dean, offering a rushed goodbye before grabbing her bag. Before she could even fully register what was happening, Thalia seized the girl's wrist and practically dragged her from the hall.
"You have all the subtlety of an ogre!" Ginny whined, attempting to pry her arm free as they hurried down the corridor.
"That insult says way more about your intelligence than it does about me," Thalia shot back with a smirk. "Sorry to break up your very obvious flirting."
"We were not! " Ginny huffed, her cheeks reddening.
Thalia snorted. "Ginerva, you were twirling your hair and giggling. You never giggle."
Ginny huffed, her cheeks flushing as they hurried down the dimly lit corridor, their footsteps muffled by the old stone floors. "I was being friendly ," she defended. "Dean happens to be very nice."
"And you just happen to bat your eyelashes at everyone you're friendly with?" Thalia teased, her voice dripping with amusement.
Ginny scowled but didn’t argue, instead focusing on the real reason they had abandoned dinner. The spark of hope in Thalia’s chest had not dimmed. If Umbridge had been ruffled enough to abandon her meal and summon her little army of goons, something had changed.
By the time they reached the entrance to the Charms corridor, their pace had slowed, both of them instinctively falling silent as they approached the tapestry concealing their decoy crates. The castle was draped in shadow, the dim torchlight casting flickering patterns along the ancient stone walls. Every creak of the floor, every whisper of the wind through the drafty corridors felt amplified under the cover of darkness. Thalia’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she held up a hand, signaling Ginny to halt.
Taking a steadying breath, Thalia’s sharp eyes scanned the hallway for anything—any particularly deep shadow that might be concealing a watchful figure. But the corridor remained eerily still, empty.
Swallowing her nerves, she stepped forward, fingers curling around the thick, dust-laden tapestry. Slowly, she peeled it back, revealing the alcove beyond.
Her breath hitched.
The crates were gone.
A chill raced down her spine as she turned to Ginny, her voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t be that far behind them. They only left the hall a few minutes before us.”
Ginny’s eyes gleamed with mischief, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “I’d bet my wand they’re hauling them straight to Umbridge’s office,” she murmured. “I say we go and investigate.”
Without hesitation, they pressed themselves against the cold stone walls, slipping through the corridors like ghosts. Every step was deliberate, their breathing shallow as they followed the invisible trail of their stolen crates.
Then, just ahead, the faintest sound of strained grunts and hurried whispers echoed through the corridor. Thalia and Ginny exchanged a glance before inching toward the source of the noise. Carefully, they peeked around the corner.
There, bathed in flickering torchlight, was a group of Slytherins, their faces red with exertion as they staggered under the weight of the decoy crates. Their wands were drawn but useless, their arms trembling as they struggled to carry the load.
At the head of the group stood Umbridge, her squat figure vibrating with barely contained urgency. She snapped hushed orders at them, her voice laced with hysteria, her wide eyes darting up and down the corridor as though she expected something—or someone —to emerge from the shadows at any moment.
Thalia bit down on her hand to stifle her laughter.
Ginny, her breath ghosting against Thalia’s ear, grinned wickedly. “It appears we have our answer,” she whispered, her voice light with amusement.
Knowing that they didn’t want to be caught in the vicinity of those crates, the girls moved quickly and silently through the shadowed corridors retracing their steps. Their hurried footsteps barely made a sound against the worn stone floors. Every now and then, Thalia stole a glance over her shoulder, half-expecting Umbridge or one of her minions to be lurking in the darkness, ready to pounce. The castle felt unnervingly quiet, the absence of other students adding to the weight of what they had just discovered.
By the time they reached the Gryffindor common room, its hearth still crackling with warm embers but it's chairs and sofas empty—the other students still down at dinner—Thalia felt the tension in her shoulders ease just slightly. But that relief was short-lived.
As soon as the portrait hole swung shut behind them, Ginny spun around, her face contorted in fury.
"That filthy wench! " she snarled, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I knew it!"
Thalia’s head was still spinning, the shock making it difficult to fully process what they had seen. “That settles it, right?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less shaken. “She’s been intercepting our mail… reading it?”
"Reading it?" Ginny echoed incredulously. "She's been stealing ! Violating our privacy!" Her voice rose with each word, trembling with anger. "She has no right! "
"Gin, calm down, we’ll figure it out," Thalia tried to soothe her, placing a hand on her arm.
"Calm down?" Ginny's voice cracked as she wrenched her arm away, her eyes blazing. "Lia, she stole letters from MY brothers! My family! And you want me to calm down?" She was practically shaking with fury now, her face flushed a deep red. "She made you question your entire relationship with George—something that has made him happier than I’ve ever seen him—and you still want me to calm down?!Think how the twins must be feeling, thinking we abandoned them!"
"You don't think I know that?" Thalia shot back, her own voice rising now, frustration crackling like a live wire between them. "What are you going to do, Gin? Storm down there and demand them back? You really think she’ll just hand them over ?"
"I certainly am not going to stand here and let her get away with it," Ginny spat, her voice dripping with defiance.
A tense silence fell between them, the dying firelight casting flickering shadows across their faces. They were both breathing heavily, the weight of their realisation settling into their bones. Thalia rubbed her temples, trying to force her mind into calmness and chase away the headache that was beginning to form. The weight of their discovery pressed heavily against her chest, but she forced herself to take slow, steady breaths.
"I refuse to do nothing," she said finally, her voice firm despite the tremor of anger simmering beneath it. "But we need to be smart about this. If she catches us, we'll be in more trouble than ever before, and I refuse to put you in that kind of danger. She signed off on physical punishment now, Gin. If you want to be shackled in the dungeons with Filch and his bloody whip, then be my guest."
Ginny, who had been practically vibrating with fury, snorted suddenly. " That sounded awfully dirty," she said, a wicked smirk curling at her lips.
Despite herself, Thalia let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. The tension that had been crackling between them like lightning eased—just a little.
Shaking her head, she pressed on. "I think I've got something... but we'll need help from Lee. And the twins." Her voice dropped slightly at their names, but she squared her shoulders.
Ginny opened her mouth to question her, but Thalia cut her off with a raised hand. "You'll see."
They didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Lee Jordan climbed through the portrait hole, looking pleasantly full from dinner, Thalia shot up from her seat.
"I need to talk to you," she said urgently, gripping his wrist. "Upstairs. Now. "
Lee barely had time to blink before she was hauling him up the staircase to his dormitory, Ginny hot on their heels. "Blimey, Thalia, you could at least ask —"
The moment the door shut behind them, Thalia and Ginny turned on him.
"Have you heard from the twins since they left?" Thalia demanded.
Lee blinked at her, confusion flickering in his warm brown eyes. "No? Not yet, but I figured they were just busy setting up the shop—why?"
"But you've sent them letters?" Ginny pressed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
Lee scoffed. "Of course. They're my best mates." He studied their serious expressions before his brows furrowed. "Alright, what’s going on? You two are freaking me out ."
Thalia hesitated, but Ginny, ever blunt, just came out with it.
"Umbridge has been redirecting our letters. Reading them. Stealing them if she doesn’t like what they say or who they’re going to. We expect she’s been doing the same to letters coming into the castle as well."
For a second, Lee just stared. Then his eyes bulged. " What? " he spluttered. "*She can’t—she wouldn’t— that evil, parchment-snatching hag! ” His voice rose in outrage, his hands flailing as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
"Thank you for that insightful reaction," Thalia said dryly, though the corner of her lips twitched. "But moving swiftly on—did the boys leave anything here? Prank materials, old products, anything useful?"
She glanced around the room as she spoke, but the near emptiness of it made her stomach drop. She was caught staring at George’s empty bed, the space feeling so much colder and emptier than she had anticipated. The sheets were still ruffled from when he had last slept there, as if he’d only just left and could walk through the door at any moment. But he wouldn’t .
Lee followed her gaze before clearing his throat. "They left some bits under the bed," he admitted. "Tester products that didn’t work, half-finished pranks. But I wouldn’t dig too much— something might explode."
A small, reckless smile flickered across Thalia’s face.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to focus. "Perfect."
Lee hesitated for a moment, still looking stunned by their revelation, but at last he sighed and crouched beside the bed. “Alright,” he said, reaching beneath the frame. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Dropping to her knees, she reached beneath the bed frame, her fingers grazing against an assortment of forgotten items—half-empty bottles, scraps of parchment, and something suspiciously sticky that she decided to ignore. Lee knelt beside her, rummaging through the mess with practiced ease, while Ginny perched on the edge of the mattress, watching with barely restrained impatience.
After a few moments of shuffling, Lee let out a triumphant noise. "Here we go." He pulled out a battered-looking crate, its wood scorched at the edges as if it had been too close to an explosion. With careful fingers, he pried it open.
Inside lay an assortment of joke products, some familiar and others clearly failed experiments. There were Skiving Snackboxes with labels half-peeled off, a few Extendable Ears tangled in knots, and what looked to be an early—and somewhat unstable—attempt at Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.
Ginny reached in, picking up a small vial filled with swirling orange liquid. “What’s this?” she asked, tilting it towards the light.
“No idea,” Lee admitted. “If I had to guess, some sort of unfinished Skiving Snackbox ingredient. I wouldn’t drink it unless you want to spontaneously grow a tail.”
Ginny snorted but put the vial down quickly. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked, turning to Thalia.
Thalia held up a bag of what appeared to be the volatile exploding components of the decoy detonators, the contents shifting slightly, as though impatient to spring into action. In her other hand, she twirled a bottle of never washable paint and a smaller vile of ever multiplying glitter—an explosive mix that shimmered with a promise of chaos. Her eyes sparkled, mischievous and daring, the corners of her lips tugging into a grin that hinted at trouble.
Lee eyed the items in her hands with a mix of concern and awe. "Thalia, the reason those decoy detonators are in here is because they just explode. There's nothing else to it," he said, glancing between her and the dangerous-looking concoctions, his brow furrowing with the weight of responsibility.
"Exactly!" Thalia laughed, the sound light but full of exhilaration. "If we stick these in an envelope addressed to the twins, along with a touch of paint, and a little glitter for flair, they'll explode the second Umbridge opens them. Covering her from head to toe and hopefully ruining that ghastly office of hers at the same time." Her grin grew wider, her voice gleaming with that dangerous spark only a true prankster could possess.
Ginny’s face softened with delight, a wicked glint igniting in her eyes. “It’s perfect! And it’s not like she can scold us for it—she wasn’t even supposed to open the letters in the first place!” she added, a sense of justice dancing in her words. “Thalia, you’re a genius!”
"I think you've been spending too much time with the twins," Lee replied with a laugh, shaking his head. "They'd be so proud if they could see you now," he teased, wiping a dramatic tear from his eye, though there was affection in his tone.
Thalia snorted in amusement, rolling her eyes. Standing, she began rifling through the desk, pulling out a small stack of unused envelopes, tossing them to Ginny and Lee. "Let’s get to work," she said, her voice a perfect blend of excitement and focus.
The trio huddled together in the dimly lit dorm room, the walls around them filled with the faint echo of distant chatter from the other students downstairs. The air was thick with the scent of parchment, ink, and the occasional spark of magic as they carefully assembled a pile of exploding letters. Despite the thrill of their mischief, they moved with caution, handling the volatile materials with an unusual level of care, ensuring each envelope was sealed just right. The minutes ticked by slowly, but with each completed envelope, their confidence grew. They finished just in time—half an hour before curfew.
Ginny sprang to her feet, eager to complete their masterpiece. She grabbed the letters in her hands with a wild grin and rushed toward the door. "I’ll send these now!" she called, her voice light and tinged with excitement.
"I can come with you?" Thalia asked, her voice laced with a note of concern. She glanced at the door with a trace of hesitation, anxious about Ginny being alone when the risk of getting caught was so high.
Ginny’s head popped back around the doorframe, her sly grin still in place. "I’m going to get Dean to come with me," she teased. "Don’t ruin the moment, Lia. We can’t all find our soulmates in a matter of months!" And with that, she disappeared into the hallway, the sound of her laughter trailing after her.
Thalia stood still for a moment, blinking, her expression one of bafflement. Lee let out a dramatic sigh from where he lay sprawled on the bed, shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Merlin help that poor boy," he muttered, a chuckle escaping his lips. "He has no idea what he’s getting himself into."
Thalia laughed softly, brushing stray flecks of glitter from her hands—though she knew full well it was hopeless. Glitter clung to everything, like a little piece of mischief that could never fully be wiped away. "Ginny’s not that bad," she replied, her tone playful but with a knowing edge, as if she too was familiar with the chaos Ginny could stir.
Lee raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "You’re dating a Weasley," he said, his voice teasing but tinged with affection. "You know what they’re like!"
Thalia snorted, her eyes glinting with mischief once more. "Maybe that’s why I like her." She paused, catching Lee's eye. "Besides, a little chaos never hurt anyone."
For a moment the room fell silent, filled only with the lingering hum of their shared conspiratorial energy, the anticipation of what would come next dancing between them.
Lee sat up slowly, propping himself on his elbows, his gaze soft and understanding as he studied Thalia. The quiet of the room seemed to weigh heavily around them, the only sound the occasional creak of the old bed frame and the rustle of parchment scattered across the desk. He watched her for a moment, his eyes searching, before breaking the silence with a gentle question. "How you holding up, Badger?" The nickname seemed to soften the air, a little slice of comfort between the two of them.
Thalia gave a faint shrug, her eyes avoiding his. She let out a long, slow breath, as if the weight of the question was too much to answer directly. She shifted her gaze around the room, her eyes lingering on the shadows that crept along the walls. Finally, she moved toward the end of George’s bed, sitting down with a quiet sigh. Her fingers trailed over the worn comforter, as though searching for something familiar. "I miss them," she said simply, the words leaving her lips quietly, as if speaking them aloud made the ache in her chest feel more real.
Lee nodded, the sound of the room closing in as he echoed her sentiment. "Me too." His voice was low, thoughtful. "It’s weird, you know? I’m up here by myself. At meals, they're not there, and then I end up sitting by myself in most lessons. It’s like the whole place has... changed." There was a pause, a deep breath, as if the absence of the twins had created a space that seemed too large, too empty to fill with anything else.
Thalia exhaled softly, her eyes unfocused as she stared into the distance, her fingers curling slightly around the fabric beneath her. "I just... I wish they were here for some things," she murmured, her voice thick with a mixture of longing and quiet frustration. "A silly joke to lighten the mood. A bad day where they’d make it better. Or even just to waste some free time with." She paused, her eyes growing distant as she tried to put the feeling into words. "I catch myself looking for them, even when I know they’re not coming back."
The words hung in the air between them, thick with the weight of their shared grief. The room felt smaller somehow, as if the walls were closing in, pressing them together in the silence. The room, once a familiar spot of chaos and laughter, now felt like a hollow space. George’s absence was everywhere—lingering in the soft, faded threads of the comforter, in the quiet corners of the room where his laughter would have been. The small moments they once shared felt like they were lost in time, unreachable now.
Lee’s eyes softened as he took in her words, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was as if the simple act of acknowledging the emptiness between them had given it shape, making it something real and tangible.
"I'm glad he told you how he felt before he left," Lee said, his voice gentle, as if offering her something to hold onto. Something, to make the distance between them and George feel just a little less vast.
Thalia smiled, though it was timid, hesitant. The warmth in Lee’s voice made her chest tighten in a way she hadn’t quite prepared for.
Lee stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the headboard with a wistful grin. "He wouldn’t shut up about you, you know," he mused, shaking his head. "Every conversation we had—didn’t matter what it started with—somehow, he always found a way to bring it back to you. How funny you were, how clever, how you always managed to keep up with them. I’m pretty sure Fred and I knew how he felt before he even realised it himself." He chuckled, his voice rich with nostalgia. "The amount of late-night conversations we had in this room about you... Honestly, I lost count."
Thalia could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her cheeks burning as she ducked her head slightly. The idea that Lee probably knew more about how George felt than she did made her stomach flip. She had always known there was something unspoken between her and George, but hearing it laid out like this—so openly, so undeniably—felt different.
"It's strange how quickly things changed," she admitted, her voice softer now, as if pulling the words from a distant memory. "At one point, I was furious with them. Literally seething. I had almost convinced myself I hated them." She let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking her head at the absurdity of it. "And then, before I even realised it, they’d scooped me up, pulled me into their chaos, and suddenly I was spending nearly every day with them."
“They have a knack for scooping up the strays, how do you think we became friends,” Lee snorted, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Pretty sure George fell for you after that infamous explosion—when you were dripping in paint," he teased, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
Thalia groaned, burying her face in her hands as the memory resurfaced with embarrassing clarity. "You heard about that?" she mumbled, her voice muffled through her fingers.
Lee’s laughter was loud, unabashed. "Are you kidding? It was legendary. You’re the only person who ever stood up to them like that. I think it earned you some serious respect."
Thalia peeked at him through her fingers before sighing in defeat. "I knew I liked him after that stupid fight we had before I joined the DA," she admitted, her voice quieter now, the weight of the moment settling around them.
Lee’s smile softened. "I don’t even think Fred can comfort him like you do," he said after a pause, his voice thoughtful.
The room stilled for a moment, the words settling deep in Thalia’s chest. It was one thing to miss George—to feel the absence of his laughter, his warmth, his effortless way of making everything feel a little less heavy. But to hear that he was probably missing her just as much… That was something else entirely.
She exhaled slowly, tracing patterns on the worn fabric of the bedspread. "I just hope he’s okay," she whispered.
Lee didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his voice was steady. "He will be," he said, with the kind of certainty that only someone who knew George Weasley well could have. "And so will you. He’s got Fred and you’ve got us.” he smiled.
Suddenly, Lee shot upright, a look of realization flashing across his face. Without a word, he spun around and dropped to his knees, disappearing halfway under his bed. The room filled with the sound of rustling fabric and objects being tossed aside—laundry, broken quills, and crumpled parchment sailed through the air as he dug frantically for something.
Thalia watched in mild amusement, raising an eyebrow as he emerged a moment later, his hands tucked behind his back, a knowing grin curling at the edges of his lips. His eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was something else there too—something softer, more thoughtful.
"The night after he left," Lee began, his voice quieter now, tinged with something unreadable, "I came up here and found these folded at the end of his bed." He stepped forward, his movements more careful this time, and placed a neatly folded stack of clothes into her hands. "At first, I figured he just ran out of room in his trunk, that he had to leave some things behind. But now…" He paused, his gaze flickering over her face as if piecing something together. "Now, I think he left them for you."
Thalia swallowed thickly, her fingers trembling slightly as she thumbed through the pile. The fabric was familiar—comfortingly so. A couple of pairs of his sweatpants, worn soft from years of use. His lucky Quidditch jumper, the lettering slightly faded but still unmistakable. And at the very bottom, the one that made her breath hitch—the t-shirt he had let her sleep in. The scent of him still clung faintly to the cotton, a mix of warmth and something undeniably George .
A watery chuckle bubbled up from her chest as she looked up at Lee, her vision blurred with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lee grinned, the tension in the air easing slightly as he leaned back against his bed. "I seem to remember you have a particular affinity for wearing his clothes," he teased, laughter lacing his words.
Thalia let out a small, breathy laugh, clutching the bundle closer to her chest. "Shut up, Jordan," she muttered, rolling her eyes, but there was no real bite behind it.
Lee just smirked. "Hey, I’m just saying—you might as well claim them officially now. Not like he’s here to steal them back."
Thalia let out another laugh, shaking her head as she wiped at her eyes. The weight of missing George hadn’t lifted, but somehow, in this moment, it felt a little easier to bear.
That night, deep in the quiet of her room beneath the castle, Thalia curled up beneath the heavy blankets, pulling George’s jumper over her like a shield against the cold. The fabric was soft and worn, still carrying the faintest trace of him. She buried her face into the collar, inhaling deeply, and the ache she had been keeping at bay all day finally cracked through her chest.
For the first time since he had left, she let herself cry.