Chapter 6
George’s neck acquired a slight stiffness that continued for months after that summer because every time Fred second-guessed himself he would glance back at George and George would nod his reassurance. He knew that Fred knew that he would always give his approval, and he knew that Fred would look back anyway because it didn’t matter how certainly he could feel his twin’s emotions through the air—seeing his face, the way his eyes twinkled, was always better than telepathy. And yet the fact that he always stood in back of his brother, George came to realize, made everyone else think that Fred was the surer one, the more outgoing one, the louder one. He talked more because George opened the space for him by shifting his weight into the floorboards in a certain manner, and as time wore on stood slightly to the left of his brother so that it was easier for him to flick his eyes and catch the tiny nod. And they never really spoke of it, but things just fell into place this way. George found it was easy to slip just a minuscule tad back into the quieter role he’d once played, when he’d done all he could do to avoid someone addressing him because every time they did it made him feel sick. Fred learned to overcompensate, in a way, until by the end of their third year he barely flicked his eyes towards his brother anymore and could joke as loudly as before all this happened.
But George knew his twin’s mind worked many more hours than his did. He would remember that at first when Fred would look to him he hadn’t known it was a nod that he sought, he’d never mulled over the possibility of his brother wanting more of his support before. Sure, he’d been a little more protective over him than he had previous to the pre-lunch incident, but that was mostly all. Fred would never have had that problem. Fred knew what to do, what to say, and when to do or say it in what seemed to be every situation. It was one of the few things helping to fool everyone into believing in his confident exterior, and George sometimes wondered if even his family had been fooled. Most likely they hadn’t, but maybe it was for the best that they pretended to. Lee was the only non-family member who could see beyond that veil. Maybe it was because they lived in the same room or they’d been best friends since first year or that he was just plain smart, but that boy was almost strangely attuned to Fred’s thoughts. He could probably have Polyjuiced into him for an entire year and no one outside of the Weasley’s themselves would’ve suspected a thing. But George didn’t mind this new arrangement. Fred was happy and so was he, and their parents and professors were more exasperated than ever. As far as he was concerned, it was perfect.
As they’d rushed to the platform on the first of September for the beginning of the third year Lee was already there, holding a box with an enormous tarantula inside it. A dark-haired sort of skinny boy had followed their family to the Hogwarts Express and George watched him stare around for a few moments before hurrying into the train—probably a Muggle-born, but here without parents for what looked to be his first year. And then Fred was pulling him away towards Lee, looking more excited than George had seen him in weeks, shouting his best friend’s name and grinning widely.
Not five minutes later he’d found the boy again while taking Fred’s trunk in search of a compartment to share with Lee. He’d been attempting to heave a trunk nearly as big as he was into an empty compartment at the end of the train and George had stopped to help, tearing a very reluctant Fred away from Lee and his tarantula to assist… who became considerably less reluctant when the boy pushed his dark hair out of his face and exposed the famous lightning-shaped scar. “Harry Potter?”
“What?”
“Blimey, are you really—”
“Of course he’s really him, aren’t you?” The boy had looked taken aback and George wondered if that had been too forward, but then Mum was calling them away, and when they returned to find Ron sitting with him Fred stood in back this time bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to return to Lee and his tarantula. As they hurried back down the corridor Fred explained that “her name now is Nadina the Great, but he’s looking for suggestions, and I think it’s not really a girl tarantula at all so—”
George laughed as they passed a compartment of seventh years, most of whom were asleep. One of them cracked an eye open at the noise and he ducked beneath the window. “That I can get behind.”
“Well good, because Nadina is just the most hideous name I’ve heard of in my life, so I’m hoping to get something like Bartholomew.”
George snorted into his sleeve and his brother elbowed him in the ribs. He thought Fred must be more confident in Lee Jordan’s presence, because he hadn’t looked so happy in a while.
Harry Potter turned out to be more than just an obstacle between the twins and Lee. He was sorted into Gryffindor, for starters, and then he and Ron got on well enough, and then he got on the Quidditch team. First first year in more than a century, and George was sure Oliver would never stop bragging about him—or, at least until Percy told him over breakfast one day that “he wasn’t something to goggle at in a zoo” and Oliver turned red while the twins laughed so hard at the quote that Percy threatened them with detention. He played well, too, a Seeker and a brilliant catch who seemed to find the flash of gold everywhere, despite the fact that the lenses of his glasses were as thick as his little finger. He became sort of the team’s child, and Katie hexed Flint in the corridor after he stamped on Harry’s foot. His broom went mad during the first match and he nearly fell off while the twins swooped around him in an attempt to catch him before he broke every bone in his body, but when it righted itself again he caught the snitch in his mouth—he nearly choked on it but won the match, and Wood clapped him on the back so hard afterward that he fell right over in the grass and any leftover snitch would have come up. The twins pulled him up by the arms and carried him back to the lockers, hooting and hollering while the Slytherin Seeker, Higgs, scowled at the ground. When they returned to the Gryffindor common room for the after-party Lee had already brought out the butterbeer, and they spent the rest of the night quoting the best commentating lines he’d come up with.
Harry fell asleep next to Oliver Wood in the early hours of the morning and he carried him to bed with more gentleness than the team had ever seen him use. When he returned they teased him until he threatened morning practices for the rest of the year, and Percy again promised detentions for “anyone who doubts Oliver’s gentlemanly qualities, which are not lacking”. Oliver turned red again, and Percy proceeded to unceremoniously shoo everyone off to bed while they cackled, thundering up the stairs before he could make them clear the butterbeer bottles from the floor. Fred threw himself onto the bed still grinning, and George decided that he was going to be alright.