"You're sure about this?" my dad asked, looking down at the supplies I had collected for our travels. He eyed the remnants of my potion kit, which he had finally let out of lock-up. I had spread out across the kitchen table, where I had sat for what felt like days on end, trying to get my concoction just right.
"Hello, I was in NEWTS potions, believe it or not" I quipped back, stuffing my materials back into their case. In front of us was a handful of viles of Polyjuice Potion, hot out of the cauldron and waiting to be used.
"Well, you did accidentally poison yourself last year" Kelly hopped in, looking back at me over her shoulder from where she sat, spoon-feeding 'Ren a mish-mash of whatever she'd chosen to throw together that day.
"And I've had nothing to do since but read my textbooks. So ya, I'm sure that my Polyjuice Potion is fine." I glared at the two of them, tossing the dirty cauldron in the sink. At least, I was pretty sure it was fine. I'd read the recipe a thousand times over, measuring each ingredient down to the smallest increments. Besides, Hermione had once told us that she had done a batch of it in first year. If she could accomplish it way back then, certainly I would have been able to do it now. "There's no way we're going to be able to step foot even NEAR London without a disguise. They'll at least recognize you in an instant, Dad."
"I know" he sighed, waving a wand and shrinking our bags down to the size of dolls accessories. "I think that's the last thing we needed then. You're still sure that you want to do this?"
"I've never been more sure about anything." I grabbed my cloak from the closet and slung it over my shoulders. Louisiana didn't get nearly cold enough to warrant a cloak at any time of the year, but I knew we'd need it where we were going.
I smiled sadly at Kelly as she rose to her feet, placing 'Ren's food down on the table. We had decided to stay until Easter, giving us one last chance to celebrate something happy with Kelly and 'Ren. She was sad that we were going, and I knew she wished on some level that she could come with us. But she had to think of 'Ren, and the sacrifice that Lee had been making to keep them safe. That was her priority now.
"Be safe" she said, enveloping me in a bone-shattering hug. "If you die, Acelynne Connors, I swear to Merlin that I'll learn Necromancy just so I can kill you all over again."
"Noted." I was doing my best not to allow the tears to start again. Bart squeaked from the kitchen counter, bounding from surface to surface until he was neatly propped up onto my shoulder. "No, mate, you need to stay here. Hold down the fort." I handed him gently to Kelly, who tucked him into her shirt pocket.
"Take care, Kel" my dad gave her an awkward one-armed dad-hug. "We probably won't be able to contact you, but we'll do our best. Please, just stay here until someone from the Order comes to get you." She nodded dutifully, casting a sideways glance at 'Ren, who'd began to shriek once more.
"Alright" she sighed in a huff. "You two best head off. Go save the world and all that jazz." We collected our things and turned towards the door, the dark sky looming down on us ominously. "Bye bye!" Kelly was waving 'Ren's hand to us, uttering her greeting entirely in baby-voice.
I took solace in knowing that whatever the outcome of this trip would be, was that it would hopefully be to secure a new world, a better world, for Siren.
The trip was just as painstakingly long as it had been the last few times. We didn't take the risk to apparate again, knowing that the fact that I hadn't splinched us the last time was a giant, but very happy, fluke. Unsure of what was being monitored or not, we opted for mostly Muggle forms of transportation.
When we landed at Heathrow Airport, we headed straight for the bathrooms to take our Polyjuice potion. I had swiped some hair from a few different folks around town in Mangham, managing to be far sneakier than I thought possible in the process.
I swallowed the shimmering blue liquid in the vile, mildly surprised at the semi-sweet taste that coated my tongue. This vile had been completed with the hair of the little-old lady who sometimes minded the front till of the convenience store. She was always quick to offer caramels and other sweets, all the while keeping a firm tone with the troublemaking youth who frequently tried to lift from the shop. Immediately, my insides began to burn, twisting and turning as if they were about the wriggle up and out of the mouth to make a great escape.
Had I done something wrong? Was the potion bad?
That is when I felt myself begin to shrink down, my spine curving forward ever so slightly. Every part of my body felt foreign as the change was completed, and I stumbled out of the bathroom stall. Looking in the mirror, I recognized the old lady from the till starring back at me. Internally, I jumping with glee, knowing that I had managed to complete a potion so incredibly well that Slughorn certainly would have approved.
We met back out in the hallway, my dad now resembling the much-younger Peyton from town. "Ace?" the Southern twang of Peyton's voice rang out. I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of my dad in a body so young, and objectively handsome.
"It's me!" my voice twanged back. The words felt foreign in my mouth, my tongue curling in ways I didn't think possible. "This is weird."
He raised his arm out gently, inviting me to grab on. Together, we looked like grandmother and grandson, the latter escorting my frail body across the massive complex. "I'm unsure where to start" he confessed.
"I was thinking with Grimmaud place, maybe?" my voice sounded so tiny, something which certainly didn't match the pride-filled sense of accomplishment I was teeming with.
"It might be a good place to start."
Grimmaud Place was not a good place to start. We casually strolled down the street, arm-in-arm, our muggle clothes protecting us from the drizzle coming down on our heads. Dad had recognized them immediately, the three Death Eaters who sat at the bus-stop across the road, inconspicuously watching the front door of number 12.
"Where next?" I asked, and dad shook his head in concern.
"If they have Grimmaud Place under surveillance, I doubt that anywhere is safe." He narrowed his eyes in frustration.
"What about the Burrow?" I asked hopefully. Dad shook his head again.
"Too obvious. I knew we'd run into an issue like this." He tutted quietly. "Perhaps we try Shacklebolt? He was so deep in the Ministry, I doubt he's been uncovered yet."
"Dad, I really thing we should try the Burrow. If the Weasley's aren't there, I'm certain that they would have left a clue to let other members know where they were going. Especially with everything the Harry has been up to?"
"No." Dad stopped and looked down at me, his eyes soft and full of questions. "If the Weasley's have been driven into hiding, Acelynne, their house will be under constant surveillance. It's a massive risk."
"Well, it's a massive risk to keep wandering the streets of London, hoping to find someone we recognize, and hoping that they haven't been corrupted either." I reached down and felt the viles of Polyjuice Potion in my pocket. "And we don't exactly have an unlimited supply of potion. We're on a time-limit, Dad."
He sighed, clearly in disagreement but with no better options to pose. "Okay, you lead the way." I pulled him into a nearby alley and began to conjure the image of the Burrow in my mind.
"Take a deep breath" I warned.
We landed with a soft thud in the grass of the Orchard, facing away from the house. The familiar smell hit me like a tonne of bricks, and I knew I had landed exactly where I was meant to be. I took a moment, savouring the air. "Ace?" my dad asked quietly, his voice now shed of the thick Southern accent.
I looked down at my hands, noticing the skin was now taut and my nails were no-longer yellowed. "Looks like we got out of there just in time" I mused, standing up straight and cracking my back. It felt as though I had been hunched over for hours, and now I was incredible aware of my posture.
"No, Ace. Look." I turned around to face him, and followed his finger to where he pointed. "The house."
It took my eyes a moment to adjust, but I saw it. The house, once filled with noise and laughter and light, even in the dead of night, had now gone dark. The windows appeared to be smashed, and no evidence of the chickens in the yard remained. It had been abandoned.
"They must have been found out" he sighed, reaching down and grabbing my hand. "I'm so sorry Ace."
I pulled my head away from his quickly. "No. No. If they're gone, they've left some sort of clue. They must've." My feet began to pull me towards the house, but my dad grabbed my wrist in an attempt to pull me back. "Let me go!"
"You don't know if there's anyone left inside, Ace. We could be walking right into a trap."
"I don't see any better options, do you?" I yanked my hand away once more. "Stay here and stand guard if you'd like. I'm going in."
I marched my way up to the front door before he could stop me, quietly slinking up the steps of the porch and opening the door of the house with a quiet creak. I stopped, re-examining my surroundings and straining my ears to hear anything. Nothing but crickets hummed in the distance, and I stepped inside.
The inside of the Burrow was disastrous. The lights had been smashed, leaving pieces of glass all along the floor. The furniture had been torn to pieces. Photographs had been knocked off of the walls. I resisted the urge to cry, once again, as I forced myself to climb the stairs and check out each and every one of their rooms. Nobody remained, each of the bedrooms as destroyed as the next. The twins room was nearly empty, as they had relocated most of their things to their flat in Diagon Alley.
Despite the mess, nothing seemed extraordinarily out of place. Nothing that screamed to me as some indication of where they all might have gone. If they had gone, anywhere. A terrible sinking feeling began to grow in my chest as I descended the stairs back to the main floor. What if they weren't in hiding? What if they had been captured... or worse.
Defeated, I stepped into the kitchen one last time. From the back door, the smell of dirt remained a reminder of all of the life that had frequently crossed through the threshold. I smiled, thinking of Errol barrelling through the window each morning, always the epitome of gracelessness. I sniffed, wiping back the first tear I had allowed myself to shed.
And that's when it hit me. The faint, but familiar smell... of dung. The smell grew stronger as I approached the kitchen table. This wasn't the typical smell a agriculture. No, it was something far more familiar.
It was dungbombs.
I followed my nose, dropping to the floor as the fragrance grew stronger. Eventually I was on my stomach, sniffing the ground in an attempt to decipher where the dungbombs were hiding.
I swear to Merlin, those two were utterly helpless. Leave it to the Weasley twins to set up dungbomb traps, for Death Eaters.
I found one, flattened, under the head chair of the kitchen table. And another, beside the next chair. Ten dungbombs in all, I found laid precariously under each chair at the table. What had they been expecting? The Death Eaters to have a collective sit for a leisurely cup of tea after they tore apart the house looking for them?
I picked up the dungbombs and place them in my pocket carefully. They had already been detonated, but you never knew when one may have a second wind inside of them. I wracked my brain, searching for another reason why dungbombs, of all things, had been placed under the chairs in the kitchen. If not for a smelly surprise, then what?
The sound of voices from outside suddenly caught my attention. They were far enough away that they couldn't have seen me in the dark, but I wasn't about to stand around and find out who they belonged to. I stepped out of the backdoor, and carefully crept across the backyard and back into the Orchard. My dad had lowered himself behind a tree, head turned towards the voices in the distance.
"Find anything?" he whispered in a low voice, eyes fixated on the dark behind me.
"I don't know." I felt for the dungbombs in my pocket.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, rising to his feet carefully.
I pulled the flattened specimens, and he narrowed his eyes to the items in my hand. "Are those dungbombs?"
"Ya..." my voice trailed off. The voices didn't seem to come any closer, staying the same distance away, invisible. "They were under the chairs in the kitchen."
My dad laughed quietly. "I don't see what's so significant about that, Acelynne. You know how Fred and George are."
"No." I placed them back in my pocket. "I know, but no. The house was totally trashed inside, but these... these were placed under each and every chair... totally undisturbed."
"That's the most common place to put a dungbomb, Ace. It's no more special than a whoopy cushion." Something was pulling on the corners of my mind, pleading me to dig further to reveal it.
The memory hit me with more intensity than a fresh dungbomb detonation. George and Fred, sitting lazily on the couch of the common room, George's arm draped over my shoulders. Ron and Ginny sat across from us, accompanied by the typical presence of Hermione and Harry. We sat around the fire, regaled by the stories of the twins' latest adventure in blowing up a cauldron in Potions.
"Oi, you think that Snape hates us? Now, you don't know what hate is like-" George started, leaning against me.
"-Until you've met aunt Muriel. We set off a dungbomb under her chair once at Christmas Dinner, and she hasn't come back since. It's been years." Fred chuckled, wiping a laughter-induced tear from the corner of his eye. "I think that stunt got us written out of the will."
"Aunt Muriel" I whispered under my breath.
"Who?"
"Aunt Muriel. The boys once set off a dungbomb under her chair at Christmas. That has to be it."
"Are you sure? That seems like a bit of a stretch." Dad took me by the elbow and began to guide me out of the Orchard, back towards the road.
"It's the only thing that makes sense!" I whisper-yelled, casting a glance back behind me.
"Fine... Do you even know where she lives?" he asked.
I shook my head, turning towards him and the Orchard behind him. "Only that she lives 'close'. She and the boys didn't speak much."
"I wonder why" Dad mused, scratching his head. "Well, we can't just go about, asking about where one Aunt Muriel lives? They could be anywhere."
My eyes fixated on a spot in the distance, past the Orchard and towards the horizon. A tiny speck in the dark shown, a single speck of light that flickered light a lamp in a window. I had stayed at this house more times than I could count, and I couldn't recall anything being on that horizon before. There wasn't another soul for tens of kilometres, and yet, my eyes began to envision outline of a house.
"No, but I think I see it" I whispered, grabbing tightly onto his hand and walking further into the Orchard, leaving the empty shell of the Burrow behind us.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
We sat outside the treeline, starring upwards at the one and only, Aunt Muriels house. Unlike The Burrow, with its make-shift construction and worrying lean, this house was visually stunning. It stood three stories tall, its perfect symmetry revealing its Georgian-inspired architecture. White stone covered the outside, only to be hidden by a thick layer of ivory that seemed to be thriving in this environment. Matching chimney's paralleled each other from opposite ends of the house, twins that ceased to billow smoke. Perfectly groomed shrubs dotted the front lawn, equally as symmetrical as the building behind them. As beautiful as it was, however, it lacked the exuberant life and love that had radiated from the Burrow, and in my opinion, made it that much better.
"We can't just sit outside forever" dad chided. We'd sat outside the house all night, watching as lights turned on and off as someone moved around inside. So far, we haven't seen a single soul leave, and therefore we couldn't confirm that the Weasley's were actually in there. Before I could respond, he crossed front yard and approached the door with determination. I followed closely behind, looking over my shoulder to ensure that nobody had seen us.
My dad wrapped his knuckles quickly against the door. Silence followed for a moment, before the sound of footsteps approached from the other side. Silence, again. With a sudden whoosh of the door opening, a hand shot out and grabbed my dad by the cloak. He reached back and grabbed me as well, forcing us both through the threshold and into the house.
Inside, the tired face of Arthur Weasley greeted us. "Jacobson! Acelynne!" He looked shocked, his eyes the size of saucers as his hands flew up to his head. "How...How did you get here?!"
My dad smiled tiredly. "Nice to see you too, Arthur." Dad placed a hand on his shoulder.
Arthur opened his mouth again to speak, only to be interrupted by the appearance of my biggest fan, Molly Weasley. Her hand hovered cautiously over her wand, her eyes studying us methodically. "Arthur, what have you done?" she hissed, her wand now pointed up at us.
"Now, now, Molly-" my dads hands were up in the air as he kept his eyes steadily on the end of her wand.
Molly shushed us quickly, her eyes narrowed. "They were just standing outside the door Molly, I had to let them in. Clearly, they know." Arthur's voice was shaking lightly, clearly uncertain of what his wife would do next.
"We can't be sure as to who THEY actually are" she took a step closer to us. "You can't be sure of who anyone is these days."
I found my voice again. "Mrs. Weasley, I promise! It's really us!" She scoffed loudly. "Seriously, we can prove it!"
"How'd you find us?" she hissed.
"We heard the boys on the radio from our safehouse, and we had to come join the fight. We went to the Burrow and we found" I dug my hands in my pockets, revealing the putrid parcels I had been toting with me. "These. They were under the chairs in the kitchen. I had remembered the story about the twins setting off the dungbombs under Aunt Muriels chair. Once I had pieced it altogether... I was able to see the house." If possible, her eyes narrowed further. The protective stare of Molly Weasley was more deadly that the Killing Curse itself.
Arthur raised a hand to Molly's shoulder, but she shrugged it off quickly. "C'mon Molly. You know the boys are secret keepers for the house. Maybe leaving the dungbombs, in combination with Acelynne remembering the story, made her a secondary keeper?"
"Perhaps" she stepped forward again, causing us to stumble back into the door. "But that doesn't prove that these two are actually who they appear to be."
"In fourth year, you sent George a howler for not telling you about our relationship!" She opened her mouth to interrupt me, but I continued. "And the first week I stayed here, the boys exploded the porridge all over the kitchen! Then they turned my hair green!"
She didn't relent. This time, with a bit more authority, Arthur placed a hand over Mollys and forced her to lower her wand. "Molly, enough. I think they've proven themselves." She took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as she tucked her wand back into her pocket.
Before we could react, she opened her mouth again. "FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! GET YOUR SORRY ARSES DOWN HERE THIS VERY MOMENT." I don't think I had ever heard Molly Weasley swear before, especially at her children.
Two pairs of footsteps reacted above our head, moving across the floor. "Honestly woman, anytime something happens in this house, you always have to assume it was us." The voice of Fred floated from the top of a large set of stairs. With a POP, they appeared on the landing halfway down, looking down at us.
"Really?! Are you telling me then that you didn't have any part in" she grabbed the dungbombs from my palm, still outstretched towards her. "THESE." She gestured her hand wildly towards me and my dad. The man had literally hidden amongst the ranks of Death Eaters, and yet I had never seen him so terrified as now, backed into a corner by the matriarch of the Weasley household. "OR THIS?!"
A wide smile crept across Fred's face. "Ah, okay. You got us there."
George hadn't responded in the slightest, as if he hadn't registered anything his mother had yelled at him. My heart, previously stopped in fear of Molly's wrath, began to beat a million miles an hour, and threatened to burst from my chest. I took in his image, engraining it into my mind to fill the empty space there had been for him over the last seven months. His fiery hair, shaggy as ever, covered where his ear had once been, but besides that, he looked exactly the same as I had left him. My George, was okay.
I stopped hearing what Molly was shouting, carefully stepping past her and towards the stairs, entranced. In the time it took me to get to the bottom of the stair case, George had quickly run down to meet me. Without words, he wrapped his arms around me and picked me up to meet his lips. Every worry I had carried with me, since far before that night of the wedding, melted away for that moment. The tension I had held in my muscles since witnessing the destruction at the Burrow, released. Nothing else existed in that moment, but me and George. For just a moment, everything was okay.
Molly cleared her throat loudly, interrupting our perfect moment, and George set me back down onto the ground. "Hey Ace!" Fred came bounding down the steps after his brother, meeting me with a firm, but brotherly, hug. "I see you found our clues!"
"You're lucky it was only them who found those clues, Fred Gideon Weasley. How could you two be so utterly irresponsible." Molly rounded on the boys, and my father visibly unfrozen from the position he had been locked in. Behind her, Arthur reached forward to shake my dad's hand.
"Come on, mum. Who else was going to know what we were getting at? And besides... we didn't intend to leave it our for Ace, not exactly. But for Ron too, if he came back looking for us." How those two could be so confident in speaking to their mother, I would never know. But at the note of her youngest son, Molly softened slightly.
Arthur made his way back into the conversation. "You two didn't leave any other clues back at the house, did you?"
"Nope" Fred grinned, looking down at me.
"You're sure?"
"Cross my heart" Fred laughed. "Now come 'on guys. I'm sure these two have had a rather difficult trip to find us. The least we can do is offer them a cup of tea?" Fred waved a hand, directing us towards a set of doors to what I assumed would be the kitchen.
Molly made an incomprehensible noise, perhaps a low growl. Arthur and my dad made their way through the doorway, leaving George and me behind.
"We'll be there in a second" George said as they passed. Although I had been able to catch his voice a few times on Potterwatch, it could never compare to hearing it in-person. Fred winked in our direction, closing the doors behind them.
George wrapped his arms around me once more, crushing my head into his chest. Even the smell of his jumper was the exact same. "I can't believe you're here" he whispered, kissing the top of my head.
"I know" I mumbled, finding it difficult to say anything without getting pieces of wool in my mouth.
He grasped me gently by the shoulders, holding me out at arms-length. "No, Ace. Why? Why did you have to come here? You were so much safer, wherever you are." His eyes, my favourite shade of green, looked pained. They still glistened, but it was clear that the last few months apart had been more than difficult for him.
I sighed, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the sitting room just off of the main entrance, and opposite the doorway to the kitchen. I guided him over to a vintage looking sofa, solid wood and adorned with a wide variety of decorative pillows to make up for the lack of cushioning.
"George" his name brought a smile to my lips, as small as it felt in the moment. "George, you know I couldn't hide forever. Not when I knew that everyone back here was in just as much danger as I was."
He shook his head smally. "And what about Kelly? And Siren?"
"Still at the safehouse. It's just me and my dad." He looked down at our hands, and tightened his grip on mine.
"Okay." He pulled me back into his chest, allowing me to hear the beating of his heart. "I don't like it. Something big is coming, Ace. I can feel it. Something really big, and nothing is ever going to be the same."
"I know. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you, and I knew I wasn't there." He looked down at me, pushing my hair from my face. "You're not the only one whose allowed to be protective, you know. We're a team." At those words, his smile, still guarded, softened. "Besides, I'm eighteen now. I think I'm old enough to make these kinds of decisions for myself."
"Okay" he sighed once more. "But if we're a team, then we need to act like it. No more of this martyr, sacrificing your own good for the likes of others, kind of behaviour, yeah?" I nodded but it was not good enough. "Acelynne, I'm serious. You have to promise me."
"I promise." He nodded, taking a big huff of breathe to blow the hair from his face. He rose to his feet, pulling me up with him. "Alright. How about we go join everyone in the kitchen? I think I have a LOT of kissing up to do to your mum, ever since she tore a strip off of me in July.... I don't think she likes me very much."
George stopped, looking at me, scandalized. "She did what?!"
I laughed, squeezing his hand and pulling him towards the door. "Honestly, George, its fine. I absolutely deserved it."