Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Thursday, August 1st, 1996
The Quartet (and Ginny) stepped outside of Madam Malkin’s carrying bags of newly fitted school and dress robes to greet Hagrid, who had been escorting them around Diagon Alley much to Mrs. Weasley’s relief, and immediately headed for the Apothecary and Eeylops Owl Emporium as their last stops before going to meet back with Mr and Mrs. Weasley at Fred and George’s new shop.
Diagon Alley didn’t get any better any street you walked down, as every shop remained closed, and the group continued passing by stalls Harry believed were the reason Mr. Weasley’s job existed, as they tried to sell a variety of objects they claimed to be charmed to resist dark forces.
At the Apothecary Harry and Ron stood by awkwardly as the girls debated whether they should get a nicer looking cauldron this year and Draco stared longingly at a pure gold one sitting high on a shelf above him. “Why don’t you just buy it?” Ron asked, grumpily folding his arms as he leaned against a wrack of wings of various insects. “You of all people have the money -”
“No he doesn’t, Ron,” Hermione reminded him, pushing past with a bag full of lacewing flies. “Not anymore.” Ron frowned at the blonde now, turning aside from the golden cauldron with a shake of his head and instead proceeding to kneel down and stuff a bag with the cheapest assortment of fangs from various animals. Ron looked over at Harry for confirmation that Hermione was telling the truth and the boy sadly nodded, reaching into his pocket to retrieve some of his own gold and walking over to pass it off to Draco with a small smile.
Draco was hardly used to having to savor money, but at the very least it seemed to be giving him some idea of what it was like for the Weasley’s, and would therefore give him a bit more kindness.
The group met up with Mrs. Weasley anxiously checking her watch outside of Eeylops, and they all proceeded to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Ginny and Ron grinning with delight at the idea of the shop their brother’s had bragged so much about. Draco himself was excited to see what the twins - his former employees - had made with his Triwizard prize money.
“We really haven’t got too long,” Mrs. Weasley said, so focused on her watch it was a wonder she hadn’t run into a stall yet, although she did have her husband guiding her. “So we’ll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that’s number ninety-two… ninety-four…”
“Whoa,” They all stopped short. Standing out drastically against the very dull, wanted poster shops around it, all boarded up and deserted, was a tall building lit up like a firework display. The Weasley’s, Harry, and Draco weren’t the only ones taken aback by the shop, as casual passerby couldn’t help staring transfixed, stopping in their tracks or not. To the left, the window display showed an assortment of revolving, popping, flashing, bouncing, or shrieking goods which Harry’s eyes water at the sight of, and to the right, a gigantic, purple poster was plastered across the glass, designed to mimic a Ministry poster in jarring accuracy. It read;
WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO;
THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!
As he took a step closer to the poster Harry could help bursting into a fit of laughter, Ron doing so quickly after, and Hermione breaking after fruitlessly trying to stifle giggles. Draco only managed to grin at the thing, but it was enough for Harry. Meanwhile, behind them, Mrs. Weasley released a sort of moaning sound.
“U-No-Poo… They’ll be murdered in their beds!” she whispered and Ron spun around, frowning as Harry quickly glanced at Draco, who had paled at just the mention of the danger people he cared about could be put in by Death Eaters. “No they won’t!” Ron protested, starting to laugh again, “This is brilliant!” He started towards the shop and waved for Harry to follow, so, after he grabbed Draco’s hand for good measure, he bounded after his best friend, dragging the blond behind them.
Just as the twins had said, business seemed to be booming, as the whole place was tightly packed with customers. So much so, that it was near impossible to even catch sight of the shelves, though he could see that the Nosebleed Nougat was almost sold out, and the Skiving Snackboxes were currently getting ravaged by young, Hogwarts-aged students. As they pushed through the crowd of people, Harry also caught glimpses of people playing with trick wands, writing with quills, and some toys delighting under-Hogwarts-aged children.
Harry followed Hermione - still holding onto Draco and grateful to see his eyes wonder-filled and, most importantly, purely happy, as they gazed around the beauty of the shop. The bushy head of hair stopped before a large display near the counter, and read aloud the information on the back of a box depicting a cartoon drawing of a handsome youth and a swooning girl standing on the deck of a pirate ship, as if posing for a movie poster. “‘Patented Daydream Charms: One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.’ You know,” She turned around, beaming up at Harry, “That really is extraordinary magic!”
“For that, Hermione,” came a familiar voice behind them, “you can have one for free.”
They turned and grinned at a beaming Fred standing before them, smartly dressed in magenta robes like a true business man. “How are you, Harry, Hermione?” He shook hands with the two, then swept back his robe, revealing a suit of fine dragonhide, to dip low to a chuckling Draco. “And of course, the Boss. How are you, my liege?” He stood straight, struggling to hold back his own chortles, and Draco rolled his eyes, folding his arms. “Jealous. How dare you go build your own empire after I fired you?” His offended expression lasted for three seconds, at most, then all four of them were laughing heartily.
“Come on, you three, I’ll give you a tour. Only ‘cause Draco’s with you though, of course,” Fred said after their laughter started to die, winking then turning and sweeping smoothly through the crowd, the three sixteen year olds following behind. They were led to the back of the shop, and a stand of card and rope tricks. “Muggle magic tricks! For freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It’s not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they’re great novelties… Oh, here’s George…”
The group turned and smiled at the sight of Fred’s identical and near indistinguishable twin coming down a set of stairs, seemingly instructing a Fourth Year Harry recognized vaguely from school but couldn’t put a name to on the uses of the pink bottle in his hand. The girl was grinning and nodding, but not looking away from the bottle in her hands, seemingly entranced, she caught Harry’s eye and giggled then scampered off as George followed her gaze and saw them, immediately striding forwards to shake Harry and Hermione’s hands, before bowing to Draco as Fred had done.
“Giving them the tour? Come through the back, you three, that’s where we’re making the real money - Hey! Pocket anything, you, and you’ll pay in more than Galleons!” Harry jerked his head around and saw George had been berating a small boy who hastily removed his hand from where he’d been reaching into a tub labeled; EDIBLE DARK MARKS - THEY’LL MAKE ANYONE SICK!
The three followed the twins behind a curtain into a dark, less crowded room, with not as many bright colors as the rest of the products in the shop.
“We’ve just developed this more series line. Funny how it happened…” Fred glanced over at George, who continued, “You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield Charm. ‘Course, they didn’t have you teaching them, Harry.” George winked over at Harry who swelled with pride, but then nodded to Draco, ever humble.
“Draco taught me to do it nonverbally, I can’t take all the credit.” Immediately the blonde turned pink and looked away pointedly, and Harry faintly felt his own insides squirm.
“Of course,” Fred and George now bowed their heads to Draco in unison, before Fred continued, “Well, we though Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we’re still getting massive orders!”
“So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves…”
“I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes…”
“And then we thought we’d get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it’s such a money spinner,” George stopped beside a wrack displaying dark black balls that, when one squinted, you should see sparkly mist swarming inside. “This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we’re importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape.” He slapped the wrack and Draco picked up a ball, eyeing it with interest, then opening his mouth to no doubt ask the price but being cut off by Fred saying, “Pocket anything you like. Only fair, you got this place up and going after all. You deserve at least free reign of the products,” He winked and Draco smiled, slipping the ball into his robes.
“Oh look! And here are our Decoy Detonators, just walking off the shelves, look,” Fred pointed over grandly to a stack of shelves where many black, horn-type objects with small feet like wind up toys were running in different directions, often into each other. “You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one.”
“Handy,” Harry said, nodding his head and Draco stepped forward to catch two and tossed them to him. Behind them, a young witch with a bob of slightly spiky short blonde hair peeked around the curtain separating them from the staff area, Harry assumed, since she too was decked out in magenta staff robes.
“There’s a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,” the young witch said, nodding to the boys in turn and Harry didn’t miss the way Draco smirked at them being called “Mr. Weasley” and he himself found it amusing as well.
“Right you are, Verity, I’m coming,” George said, turning to begin to back up through the curtain and saying, “Make sure you help yourself to anything you want, alright, Draco? No charge.” Draco nodded, relieved he was being spared from expenses he was embarrassed to admit he couldn’t at all afford at the moment, and the teens waved the twins goodbye as they backed out through the curtain back into the main shop.
“Oi! Potter!” Harry’s head jerked around at the familiar loud voice that he couldn’t say he wasn’t still a bit agitated by, and he spotted Pansy Parkinson’s dark head of hair peeking over the railing of the second floor of the shop, grinning down at them. “And with the crew, I see. Malfoy, Granger, all together.” She gave them a wink and turned for the spiral staircase down to their level, pushing past people to get to the railing so they could stay looking at her. Harry half expected her to be wearing magenta staff robes too, but she only carried a temporary badge emblazoned with the double ‘W’ logo of the shop.
“Hello, Pansy,” Draco stepped forward smiling, but immediately turned offended when she pushed past him to hold out a hand to Harry. “How’re you Potter?” Harry raised an eyebrow, slowly said, “Okay…?” more like a question than a statement. She nodded, letting go of his hand and looking around the shop nonchalantly. “Cool, cool, that’s good…”
“Pansy.” Draco grabbed her arm, narrowing his eyes onto her even as she persisted in avoiding his gaze. “What’s the deal?”
Her eyes flicked to him, looked around for any onlookers, then she was off dashing behind the curtain the group had just come out from behind. The three teens glanced at each other, then shrugged their shoulders and followed her inside. She was pacing the length of the dark room, and when she spun around sharply, looking at Draco, they all took in the fact that her once short bob of hair, which had already grown out significantly by the end of the year, had reached her shoulders so that she was able to take two small sections and braid them in thin coils, framing her face. It was here Harry had to admit she was pretty, though not quite as much as Cho or even Ginny.
“You’re disowned, Draco, duh. I can’t talk to you.” She said as soon as Hermione had pushed the curtain back shut, and Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. “Really? ‘Cause I got two letters from Vincent and Gregory bragging about how they’d managed to scrape past passing in enough courses the day after our results came.” Pansy stuck out her lip, rolling her eyes. “Yeah well, Vince and Greg are idiots…”
Smirking affectionately, Draco stepped forward and hugged the shorter girl close, and from Harry and Hermione’s perspective, they could see the clear surprise written on her face as he did so, but they could also see the way she softened in seconds, and relaxed in his embrace. It was as if they were Third Years again, before the Goblet, and before the entire world got turned on its head when two names came out in flames, but after all that had happened, Pansy had chosen a side, and she’d chosen right, which meant -
“I’m glad you’re my friend again,” Draco whispered into her much longer hair which would certainly take some getting used to, and she whispered back, “Me too.” And for a moment, that was enough.
“But seriously, we can’t be hiding our friendship. Who cares if I’m disowned! You were part of the Hogwarts Order of Defense, for Merlin’s sake! You went to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius bloody Black and fought a whole slew of Death Eaters! How much more traitorous can you get?” Draco’s protests weren’t helping, clearly, as Pansy hugged her arms to her chest and her face turned a bright red.
“Yes, but those are all reasons I can’t be seen with you!” She glanced behind him only to see the pair of Gryffindor’s blinking back, which only increased her agitation, no doubt, seeing the further friends she’d made out of traitorous people. “They’ll be watching me now. Mother and Father weren’t happy in the slightest… and look what happened to you!” She slapped him on the chest so that he stumbled back a few inches in surprise. “Your dad was the Dark Lord’s topman and you still ended up in the Goblet of Fire, tasked with killing Dumbledore, and disowned.” She whispered the last part, as if it was the worst among that awful list, and buried her head in her hands, sinking back against a chair meant to test the display of shoes beside her, no doubt. “But my dad’s a nobody, so if the Dark Lord gets angry -”
“Then who cares? Pansy,” Harry stepped forward, kneeling down before her and surprising Draco as he stepped back, and glanced over at Hermione to see she seemed just as shocked by his sudden actions. “You sealed your fate when you insisted on coming to the Department of Mysteries. You may love your parents, but everyone in the Order, both Order’s, knows the dangers in this War. You can’t rely on family anymore, just look at Draco,” He gestured over to the blonde, dressed in Muggle clothes Hermione bought him while staying with the Granger’s underneath a robe fraying at the edges and muddied shoes. His platinum hair, once gelled and combed, now grown so that a sprout of natural curls from his Black Family genes were coming out. Draco Malfoy, once the picture perfect example of a rich, pompous pureblood, turned near homeless and impoverished.
“You’re in this, Pansy, until -” “The end.” She looked back at him, smiled, then leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you so sensitive, Potter?” She asked and Harry threw back his head and laughed, Draco scoffing and muttering how, “You should’ve seen him during those Tasks,” while Hermione smirked smartly, shooting back, “You should’ve seen him while you were ignoring him last year.”
They stood and left the back room for a final time then, weaving through the crowd as Hermione called, “I think I saw Ginny by the Patented Daydream Charms.”
“I should probably get back to Lee,” Pansy said when they were halfway there, and the group stopped, turning back to eye her with wide eyes. She blinked owlishly back at them.
“What?” She asked blankly.
“You... Are you still dating… Lee?” Hermione asked as she and Harry’s jaws slowly lowered and Draco’s lips tipped up in a smirk. Pansy raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yes…?” She said, sounding as Harry had minutes ago when claiming he was ‘okay.’ “Lee Jordan?” Harry now asked, still not believing it. “Of course! Really, you Gryffindors are dafter than I thought!” She spun on her heel then, in typical Pansy fashion, flipping her hair and glancing over her shoulder to blow a kiss before disappearing in the crowd of shop goers.
Silently, Harry and Hermione removed five galleons each from their pockets and slapped them in Draco’s already waiting hand. Then, just as silently, and trying their best to ignore Draco’s proud grin, the group made their way back to Ginny, hoping the other Weasley’s wouldn’t be too far.
“Haven’t you found our special WonderWitch products yet?” Fred was saying to his younger sister, nodding off and waving a hand. “Follow me, sis…” Glancing at each other with exasperation, the group of three continued to follow Fred and Ginny, groaning slightly as they passed the window and the bright suns outside that would soon be setting before they got a chance to squeeze in a Quidditch game this evening. This wasn’t helped when Fred stopped before a cluster of excited girls giggling and holding pink bottles very similar to the one the Fourth Year girl had been holding earlier.
“There you go,” Fred proclaimed as Ginny stopped short beside him, glancing back at the other three with a ‘can you believe this?’ eyebrow raise. “Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere.”
“Do they work?” She turned and asked, and Fred scoffed as if the question offended him. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question -”
“- and the attractiveness of the girl,” added George, appearing seemingly out of thin air. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he narrowed his eyes, looking unnaturally stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve -”
“Ron’s lying, of course,” Ginny said calmly, as if she’s had to explain this tens of times before as she leaned forward to lift one of the bottles from the shelf, turning it in her hand and still skeptically reading the label. “Hermione don’t grab that you’re taken -” she slapped Hermione’s reached out hand, and Harry and Draco both instantly looked at her angrily as she winced, then muttered a hurried and embarrassed, “Sorry.” “- but I’m a free agent,” Ginny continued.
“What do you mean?” George asked, sounding astounded, and Fred nodded, leaning forward on the counter which held a large bubbling cauldron labeled ‘Amortentia.’ “Yeah, aren’t you currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?”
“Nope,” she made sure to pop the ‘P’ as she turned and placed some gold in Fred’s hand and pocketed the bottle. “What are those?” She pointed over at a cage where an innumerable number of small round puffs of fluff Harry took a second to realize were live animals rolling around and emitting high-pitched squeaks.
“Pygmy Puffs,” said George, “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. What d’you mean you aren’t dating Dean? Ron said -”
“Like I said, you can’t trust a word Ron tells you,” She bent down to put a finger through the bars of the cage and smiled as they bounced around it. “They’re really cute!”
“They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” Fred frowned, bending down to look his youngest sibling in the eye. “So, you finally realized there isn’t a point in dating, have you?”
Now Ginny stood straight, unable to push the twins away any longer, and looked her older brother straight in the eye as she placed her hands on her hips, glaring in a Mrs. Weasley-esque way. “That’s none of your business. And I'll thank you,” She tilted her head, looking behind Fred at Ron coming up to them, arms full to the chin with merchandise. “not to tell tales about me to these two!” Ron stopped short, raising his eyebrows high and looking confused. This wasn’t helped by Fred stepping up to him, looking up and down at the boxes in his arms, and folding his own sternly across his chest.
“That’s three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut,” he said, holding out a hand, palm up. “Cough up.”
“But… I’m your brother!” The twins glanced at each other, shrugging their shoulders and looking unimpressed.
“Then six Galleons…” said George.
“Eighteen Sickles…” said Fred.
“And we’ll knock off the two Knuts for your troubles.” George finished, patting him on the shoulder and smirking before walking off and disappearing into the crowd of people. Ron watched him go, mouth gaping, then spun around and yelled at Fred, “But I haven’t got six Galleons, eighteen Sickles!” Fred raised one red eyebrow, still quite unimpressed.
“You’d better put it back then, and mind you put it on the right shelves.” Ron rolled his eyes and began dropping boxes, swearing under his breath, and even turned to make a rude hand gesture at Fred that made Draco start to laugh and press a hand to his mouth so that it came out more of a snort when Mrs. Weasley appeared and snapped, “Ron! If I see you do that again I’ll jinx your fingers together.”
“Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?” Ginny asked as soon as she’d seen her appear, batting her eyelids innocently. “A what?” Mrs. Weasley asked, sounding very wary.
“Look, they’re so sweet…” She gestured over to the cage, and Mrs. Weasley bent down to examine them, frowning.
“Well I… I suppose they don’t look very harmful. You just want one?” Ginny’s eyes widened as she looked suddenly hopeful.
“Two would be nice, so I can give one to Luna!” Harry, and he got the since Fred too, by the way he started to smirk, didn’t miss the instant reddening of her cheeks at the mention of Luna Lovegood. “She’d adore them, I’m sure, but her dad doesn’t want her coming down to Diagon Alley more than she has to. He’s sweet like that, and I don’t blame him. Even though I’m sure Luna can take care of herself, I don’t doubt her, but I wouldn’t want her to get hurt of course, so I was thinking I could take one to her, since they live just down the road -”
“Alright! Alright! If you have enough gold I don’t see any problem in getting one for you and your friend.” Mrs. Weasley cut her off, thankfully, because she was clearly rambling, and growing redder by the second, as Fred’s grin grew along with her. He snapped the cage open and Ginny reached in to retrieve a dark purple and light lilac Pygmy Puff, beaming at her mother and sighed deeply, nodding to the front counter.
“Come along, we should be leaving soon.” She walked off and Ron started to follow, frowning deeply with his arms now less than half full as they had been a minute ago, but turned back when he too caught sight of Fred’s smirk.
“What is it?” He asked his older brother, who waved a hand to say, “Nothing… Just think I know why our little sister is taking a break from boys.” He said, with a wink to Harry who himself was starting to chuckle. Ron looked between the two of them, blinking dubiously, then rolled his eyes and headed off to the counter, grumbling, under his breath.
“Never mind, I gave up trying to understand you years ago…” As George passed, he again put up his rude hand gesture and growled, “Both of you!” getting a quick snap of, “Ron!” from the ever watchful Mrs. Weasley in a second flat.
-*-*-*-
The group strolled through the streets of Diagon Alley with their arms full of bags on a direct course for the Leaky Cauldron as they followed Hagrid’s massive form, and they would have stayed on that path, truly, had something not caught Harry eye as they were walking past Flourish and Blotts.
“Wait a second,” He stopped short, turned, and frowned at the advertisement hanging on the window beside the entrance. He had only seen an advertisement for a book signing once before; four years ago, when Gilderoy Lockhart held a book signing for his autobiography inside that shop. It had been absolute chaos inside with the obsession over the handsome man at its peak, but what was it now? What new novel did he have to endure kids at school gossiping about, that most certainly had to do with him, Voldemort, the War, or all three.
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter.
Oh that’ll do it.
“Have you seen this?” He called to his friends, walking ahead of him, and Hermione, Ron, and Draco all stopped short to walk back to the sign, frowning at what they were reading just as Harry had been.
“Oh yes,” said Hermione, because she of course had to know everything. “It’s been in Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet for weeks now. Honestly, do any of you read?” She’d said this before, he was sure of it, but the answer didn’t change as Harry and Ron simply blinked at her and Draco crossed his arms. “Not rubbish like the Prophet.”
“We should get it,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. “Never know, she might write something we don’t know.” Hermione nodded thoughtfully, and just when she was about to step forward Draco raised a hand to stop her, saying, “You all go on ahead, I’ll buy it. Make up for not paying anything for the twins’s products, right?” And he had stepped inside Flourish and Blotts before they could stop him.
He emerged with a single copy as there was no possible reason they would need more than that seeing as the Quartet did practically everything together. Then he started to walk back towards the group that had thankfully stopped and waited for him at the brick wall, as he knew they would, as the mere fact that he’d entered a shop alone would be enough to make Mrs. Wealsey spiral into a panic.
And maybe that panic would even be warranted, because as soon as Draco turned the corner onto the brick wall and out of sight, a man hidden in an alleyway at the steps leading to Knockturn Alley pulled his hood further down over his face and grinned with yellowing teeth, kneeling down to unroll a scroll of parchment and write on it seven words before handing it off to a shabby looking brown owl perched on a barrel across from him.
“Straight to the Manor, you know what to do,” said the man as the owl nearly bit off some of his fingers with how hard he was pinching his beak down on the letter. It was necessary though, for this was top secret stuff that, if found in the wrong hands… Could be deadly, for more than just himself.
For, if one knew a crumb of context, it was easy to see how dangerous, ‘I found DM. He’s with W family.’ could be in the wrong hands.
-*-*-*-
He was angry, he could feel it in his veins. He’d been torturing the wandmaker for months now, and not a shred of information he’d been given was something he could use. If he didn’t prove himself useful soon, he wouldn’t be opposed to spilling more blood onto Malfoy’s cellar floor.
An all too white hand reached up to push the door inward. It was his, but no, it couldn’t be his arm. When had it gotten pure white like that? And whose wand was that, long and thin? Not his certainly, because he had a brown wand and that was white like a bone.
It didn’t matter. He could see the man, curled up on the floor, emaciated and screaming, screaming, as his wand caused all the pain. That’s when he knew that this wasn’t him, Harry, this was Voldemort. He was in his mind again. How had he come to deduce reality from dreams so easily? Call it a full year of experience.
“I have given you chance after chance, and yet you still defy me. Defy Lord Voldemort!”
“No, never… I would never… Please…”
“Where is the wand?”
“I don’t know! It’s just an old wives tale, I’ve told you before! There’s no proof -”
“There is plenty of proof!” He was pacing now, or, rather, Voldemort was pacing, red eyes and white wand still trained on the old man, never leaving him. “Endless trails of blood. Journal entries and letters reporting its founding. But those were years ago, I just need you to tell me who had it last.” He stopped, training his wand on the man, prepared to make him scream more.
And he did scream. Heart wrenching, gut wrenching, ugly sobs that seemed to make the air crack and break as his vocal cords no doubt did. He opened his old mouth wide and released scream after scream until finally, one word broke through all that pain, and Harry woke up panting and shaking in a vicious cold sweat, the feeling all too familiar, except this time he whispered a name without a clue as to whom it belonged. Or even, possibly more terrifyingly, why it meant so much to Voldemort.
“Gregorovitch.”