DRARRY - Wonderful Wheezes

Chapter Fourteen

"What are you planning to do?"

"I don't know. Find Malfoy, I guess. Or Hermione, at least. One of them must be able to figure this out."

"Don't you think you're overlooking the obvious solution?"

"What obvious solution."

She tilted her head at him curiously.

"Luna, what obvious solution?"

ϟ ϟ ϟ

It was Mr Weasley who answered the door.

"Oh! We weren't expecting you. Molly's just in the sitting room. Would you like to—"

"I need to talk to George."

Mr Weasley's expression shuttered, a little light falling from his eyes. "He's not well today. I don't think he wants any visitors."

"I'm not asking. It's a matter of life and death." Harry pushed past him into the house, going for the stairs.

"Now, Harry, just wait a minute!"

He took them two at a time, calling down once he hit the first landing. "I'm sorry! I'll explain later. Won't be long."

Then he pounded up the rest of the steps, only stopping once he got to the second floor.

Fred and George's room had been at the end of the hall the last time he'd been at the burrow, but he didn't know if George was still staying there.

Nothing to be done for it, of course. He'd knock on every door if he had to. He needed to try.

Luckily, that was unnecessary. The first door pushed in when he set his fist against it, falling open enough for him to see the figure huddled beneath blankets on the bed.

The figure adjusted just slightly, two shadowy eyes tracking Harry's movements as he entered the room.
"George—"

"Get out," his voice croaked.

"Once I know how to save Verity."

George's expression was glazed, seconds ticking agonisingly by as he processed. "What's wrong with her?"

"The last experiment you were doing—the orange stuff, the exploding box—it covered every square inch of your office, remember?"

George did not reply.

"Well, it got into the main building, and it got to Verity. Inside her. She's at Mungo's under stasis and they don't know how to save her."

"If this is an attempt to get me up and on my feet again, Harry, I must say it's lacking."

"Just, please. I'll give up on the shop, okay? It doesn't matter if I'm a failed business owner, and the Has-Been Boy Who Was, and single forever, just please don't make me a murderer on top of that."

George gave him a funny look, like he didn't understand half of what Harry'd said. On second thought, he probably didn't.

"I don't know how to help," George said. "The product wasn't what we wanted it to be."

"But you know what went in it, yeah?"

George gestured to the desk in the corner of the room. Above it was a lopsided shelf holding various knick-knacks. "The journal on the right. If it's not in there, it's in the office."

Which meant it was effectively unreachable.

Harry grabbed the journal, paging through frantically, stopping when he saw the last entry, shaded in blue, for some reason.