A/N:
Happy Valentine's Day!
Make sure to show your love to someone today.
And an update, as promised...
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exodus pt. 2
April 22nd, 1996
"ARE YOU EXPECTING someone?" Sirius enquired as he kept an eye on Kreacher cleaning the bookshelves that night. "Did Tonks or Molly promise to drop by or something?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Again with Young Master's band of blood traitors and treacherous, rebellious organization, causing loud ruckus and mess nearly everywhere and everyday."
"You keep on looking at the door, like you're expecting someone. Or something? A package? A letter?" he kept on guessing.
"No," Daisy looked down, "Not really, no."
Maybe, when Fred said 'tomorrow' it meant 'sometime in the future', not exactly and literally tomorrow.
"Anything bothering you?"
"No," Daisy said with a simple smile, hiding her disappointment, "By the by, how is Professor Dumbledore?"
"Oh, how my Mistress would weep if she lives long enough to see the filthy nest her beloved house has become."
"Great, he's on a holiday," Sirius paused flipping through the book he had in his hand, "Ah... I wish I have his laid back personality."
"You do have it," Remus, who was poring over a classified document, pointed out.
"Now that Fudge's number one rival is on the run, he's wasting all the Ministry's resources to chase after the old man instead of You-Know-Who. Tonks, Kingsley, and the others are real busy."
"Trying to defeat the almighty Dark Lord, oh, my Mistress, how sad to witness these weird people's futile attempts. Beasts and lowly creatures, trampling this sacred Pureblood mat and floorings."
"Right..." Daisy nodded. "Kreacher, would you like some biscuits, too?"
"Such an honor, getting the offer, Young Miss," Kreacher bowed so deep mockingly, "The pain! Oh, the pain of irony and lies from calling a lowly Muggle as Young Miss."
"That's enough! Just leave it!" Sirius barked, "Go hide in a corner or something where I can't hear a word you say."
"Sirius—"
"Now, don't turn into Hermione!"
Of course, Kreacher compelled and left the room.
"Just let it go," Daisy said in her usual serene tone, "His words do not bother me anymore."
Sirius clicked his tongue in disdain, "You're too kind. You'd be a Hufflepuff."
"Oh, Ron said the same thing once," Daisy pointed out, "Percy told me I'm more of a Ravenclaw, while Fred said Gryffindor."
"You should really try the Sorting Hat. Let's ask Dumbledore!"
"I don't think... It wouldn't work on Muggles, would it?" Remus quipped.
"I don't think so," Daisy smiled forlornly.
Sirius clicked his tongue, "Such a party pooper, Moony. No harm in a little imagination."
"I can't concentrate, Padfoot." Remus grumbled, clearly not in the best mood, "I'll be in the kitchen."
The werewolf stood up, bringing the rolls and rolls of parchments he was supposed to read and write, then disappeared into the drawing room.
"It's his PMS —Pre-Full Moon Syndrome," Sirius merely shrugged then continued, "I know that it's for our safety and whatnot, but it's too bad that you can't see some things yourself, like Hogwarts... At least I heard you watched a real Quidditch game."
"I did!" Daisy exclaimed enthusiastically, remembering the magical experience so vividly as if it was just yesterday, "Actually, I was wondering about that. About Hogwarts. Can we protect electricity, battery, and Muggles with the same charm placed on my scarf? Or maybe reinforce it with Faraday cage, just like my aquarium bird cage upstairs?"
"I still don't understand what a Faraday cage is, but you know," Sirius hummed, "Nothing's truly impossible. Did Arthur said it was some kind of protective charm?"
"Yes, but it was nonverbal, so I don't know the specific spell."
"I'll ask him when he visit next time. What d'you say? Should we try to sneak into Hogwarts one day?"
"Interesting offer," Daisy laughed, "You know, your mischief is much like Fred's. And George's."
"That, is also interesting," Sirius pointed his finger out at her and smirked knowingly, "How everything we talk about ends up with you talking about Fred."
Before Daisy could respond with anything, though, Remus came running in with wide, shaken eyes and exclaimed, "S— Sirius, it's Harry—"
Sirius immediately stood up in alarm, "What about him?"
"He's in the kitchen."
"What?"
And indeed he was. Or at least, a fiery projection of his face was.
Daisy tailed behind Remus and Sirius and peered over as the two very concerned men knelt down so their faces and Harry's were on a level.
"What is it?" said Sirius urgently, sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes. "Are you alright? Do you need help?"
"No," Harry replied, "It's nothing like that... I just wanted to talk... about my dad..."
Daisy raised her eyebrows as Sirius and Remus exchanged a look of great surprise.
The topic sounded... trivial. To recklessly break into Professor Umbridge's office, hijack a fireplace, contact a fugitive-in-hiding at an illegal organization's safe house at the price of two students' probable expulsion to talk about the credibility of some past memories sounded so childish.
But then again, Harry was just a teenager. And it must be so hard for him to grow up all these years without knowing his parents firsthand. Of course he would be shaken to the core when he found out the hard way that James Potter, his father and role model who died a heroic death, was just... human. A young man who went through puberty and done uncharacteristic things he regretted eventually.
Once Harry finished his story about Snape's painful memory, Remus said in a quiet tone, "I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen—"
"I'm fifteen!" said Harry heatedly.
There were lots of defensiveness thrown around the room.
"Look," Sirius said at last, "Your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it."
"Yeah, okay," said Harry heavily. "I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape. Oh, Daisy, you're there." His face turned a bit red, and he silently thank the heavens that they couldn't see the color change from over there. "Er— how much did you—"
"Everything," Sirius answered in her stead, "She heard everything. Daisy, tell Harry what you said to me when I told you about the tale of Snape."
"Oh," Daisy blinked, "I... don't remember."
"Well, she said she did a lot of things she wished she didn't do back when she was fifteen, too."
Daisy frowned, "I don't think I—"
"Point is," Sirius interjected rather solemnly, "We were all idiots. Well, Moony, not so much."
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April 22nd, 1996
IT WAS APPROXIMATELY eight p.m. when the two escaped twins were finally cornered by a disheveled and soot-blackened Umbridge.
Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them was covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap), with rockets and Catherine wheels still lighting up the background.
Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead. Teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd.
"So!" said Umbridge triumphantly, looking down upon her prey. "So... you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you? And setting off enchanted fireworks, too!"
"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred, looking back up at her without the slightest sign of fear.
Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.
"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving a piece of parchment enthusiastically. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... Oh, let me do it now..."
"Very good, Argus," she said. "You two—" She went on, gazing down at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."
"You know what?" said Fred in a loud voice for everyone to hear. "I don't think we are." He turned to his twin. "George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."
"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly.
"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred.
"Definitely," said George.
And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together, "Accio brooms!"
A loud crash sounded somewhere in the distance, and the twins' broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.
"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.
"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.
Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.
"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, or Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley —Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," he announced in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"
"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.
"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves."
Peeves, who had never taken an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.
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April 22nd, 1996
THE FIRST PLACE Fred and George went to was, of course, the Burrow.
And, as they had predicted, their mother didn't take the news very well.
"You—" She blinked once, twice, to make sure that she was seeing right: her twins grinning ear to ear and looking very windswept on her porch on a school night. Mrs. Weasley hugged them tight then pulled away with confusion visible on her wrinkled face, "What are you two doing here?! Why aren't you two at Hogwarts? How did you— What—"
"Mum," George pushed her into the room then towards the dining room, "Mum, you better sit down first."
"Boys!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, pausing his dine for a bit, "What a surprise!"
"Hey!" Bill, who was present as well, raised his spoon briefly to greet them, "Aren't you two supposed to be at school?"
"Er... You see, the thing is," Fred began with a sheepish grin, "We left."
"You WHAT?! You left?!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.
"Not without a plan, of course!" George added hurriedly, "We're building our business—"
"Stop that! Didn't you say you're done with the whole Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes thing?!"
"It's not just a thing! It's a real thing! We're really making money and people are loving our creations—"
"Your dangerous creations, you mean?! How's that a real thing?!"
"Dear, calm down first—"
"Why are you telling me to calm down?!"
"Mum," George knelt down in front of Mrs. Weasley and took her hand in his, "Please listen. We've never been more serious than this. This is not a joke. No pun intended."
"Yeah, and we have our own place now." Fred rummaged into his backpack (he and George had arranged for their trunks to be sent over by Knight Bus in the morning) and pulled out a piece of paper, which he flattened on the table. It was the lease contract he and George had signed, stating that they officially owned the estate mentioned. "We got a place in Diagon Alley!"
Bill spluttered out his food in shock, "W— What?! In Diagon Alley? For real?"
"For real! Number ninety-three —right at the intersection, prime lot."
Mr. Weasley exchanged eager looks with his eldest son and cheered.
"How—" Mrs. Weasley wondered in a lower tone, though she was still frowning. "How are you able to afford a place in Diagon Alley?"
Fred smiled, "We told you, Mum, sale's been really good. We've got great ideas, the market loves them, and we're getting more than enough money."
"Really...?"
"Yes, really. Why don't you check and set up the premises with us tomorrow, Mum?" George offered.
Mr. Weasley pushed a cup of tea towards his wife and said, "Let's talk calmly over dinner, shall we? C'mon, Fred, George tell us, how did you two manage to leave Hogwarts? What have you been selling? Exactly how much money have you made?"