George stepped down from his and his family's home above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and into the shop itself. In his right hand, he held a cup of coffee and a danish. As he walked downstairs he look up at a large painting high above the entrance. It was of and dedicated to his late brother Fred. He smiled and toasted the painting.

"Morning, Fred," he said. "How's life on the other side? I do hope someone as clever and ridiculous as myself is keeping you company over there." He gave a sigh and a momentary look of seriousness to show how much his still missed his twin brother, then smiled again. "Well, can't spend all bloody day talking to a picture of you. Got to open the shop. Got a business to run here." He toasted his brother again and then headed to the door to unlock it.

He popped his head out to see a few kids awaiting the store to open.

"Hey, hey, hey now," he said in a joking manner. "Why are you lot not in school?"

"School hasn't started yet, Mr. Weasley!" laughed a boy who looked as if he was actually about to being his First Year.

"Well no wonder my youngest is still wondering about here," said George, who obvious knew by now when Hogwarts began its term. "Well I suppose you lot can come in. Remember if anything here says it's explosive, let your younger siblings examine it first." George smirked again as he let them in.

"So what's new, Mr. Weasley?" asked the First Year To Be.

"Please, call me George," he said. "I'm not that bloody old yet, you know. I'll have to let you meet my dad. Anyway, I got something good for you lot." He pulled out a box and opened it. When he did so, a mock spirit shot out and wailed at them. The kids screamed, but then laughed and applauded as George closed it. "I call it Banshee In A Box."

Words: 688 Outfit: Here SHIN OF ADOX

Freddie had been having such a nice dream. He'd been backpacking along the foothills of seaside cliffs in the Mediterranean. The air had been crisp, the kind that kisses the bare skin on your arms and the back of your neck, emanating a feeling of total relaxation throughout your entire body, only to be warmed over again by the midday sun and the tiny, invisible granules of salt kicked up the sea and collected on the skin. Then the alarm went off and yanked him back into the real world, made even like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his sleeping body by the fact that his younger sister had bewitched the alarm clock to somehow materialize a cloud over his head-upon-pillow to shower down freezing rain. After drying off and dressing, Freddie paused in a moment of simultaneous thanks and regret at not having to don robes. It wasn't quite that time of year again, but the summer was creeping to a fast close and in any of the seven years prior to this one he'd have been on his way to shop for supplies for his return to school. This time, he'd be on the opposite side of that equation. Still a bit bleary eyed, and holding two mugs - yes... mugs... the caffeine was needed - of tea, he plodded down the wooden stairs from flat to the family shop, wherein he could already hear the earliest of customers making their way in, no doubt let in by his father, for whom the second mug was meant. Freddie offered a customary nod to the painting of his namesake late uncle hanging above. Uncle Fred had died too suddenly and too unexpectedly for the sort of portrait whereby a deceased wizard might take up inhabitance to have been commissioned or made. As such, Freddie was left with only stories and photos to piece together his notion of the man; and for that he had always felt a bit bad, destined to live up to a reputation he'd never experience firsthand. "What he doesn't tell you is that is he's forbidden me from using that exact same one-liner," Freddie interjected with a toothy smile as he backed through the swinging rear door of the shop, so as to keep from spilling the tea. "Because if my father is Mister Weasley, and he's my father... well, you get the idea. 'Morning, Dad!" Freddie's eyes moved to the still-steaming cup of coffee sitting on one of the glass display counters then down to the mugs in his hand. "Ah well, more for me." Watching his father interact with customers, particularly kids (which made up easily ninety percent of the store's customers), and the sheer glee he got from shocking and amazing them was one of Freddie's favorite things about the store. He'd never been big into pranks and mischief, or even candy for that matter which was something that had made Roxy question whether he was actually related to her, but he was the very definition of a people person. And in this shop his not-so-old man was most definitely in his element. He gave the enthralled young boy - Merlin's beard, had he really been that young not so long ago? - a once over, watching him hang on his father's every word and gesture. "Have him show you the new Sugar Hexes; we just added seven new flavors. And if he sells you on a Sniving Snackbox, just remember to steer clear of the nougats until you get to school. The nosebleeds are particular strong in this last batch and you'll bleed straight through to your sorting." It wasn't a lie, Freddie's own cat had developed an odd fondness for nougat and had left streaks all over the floor and sheets in a panic after only a few nibbles. "Oh, and don't let Professor Hagrid... don't worry, he'll be hard to miss... don't let him near the pistachio creams. No one wins when that man gets bad gas." And for a brief moment, Freddie almost wished he was going back for another year. Almost. @george

George loved his family. He joked around with them a great bit and was good-naturedly sarcastic at times, but anyone who really looked could tell how much he cared about them. He could be very romantic with Angelina, a true friend to Freddie, and a doting father to Roxy. And he was extremely proud when, following his graduation, Freddie decided to partner with him in running the shop. He knew that Freddie wasn't quite into the jokes and pranks as George was, at least not at first, so it really touched him that his son wanted to be at his side.

George smirked when Freddie showed up and made the cheeky remark. He could see more and more of him in Freddie every day. George was the King of Pranksters, and perhaps Freddie was becoming the Prince.

"Keep up that rubbish and I'll make you push me about in a wheelchair and buy me carrot mash three meals a day," George joked back.

George then listened as Freddie made some great recommendations to the kids, and did so with style. He was really picking up the craft of being a good businessman.

"Freddie, you really know how to run a business, don't you?" he said. "You should tone down a bit on all the bright business decisions though. Remember, I'm the co-owner who doesn't know what the bloody hell he's doing around here half the time and you're making me look bad." He was joking of course. He was not only proud that Freddie was his partner, but quite grateful as well.

George then raised an eyebrow when Freddie spoke of Hagrid's bad gas due to the pistachio creams.

"Don't remind me," he said. "Remember when he tried them in here? He almost ran us out of business. We had to shut down this place for a week to get the smell out."

George then motioned Freddie over while the children looked about.

"I'm not one to be sappy, but I am really proud of the job you're doing around here, son," he said. "Your uncle would have been proud too."

FREDERICK LEEO WEASLEY

Words: 688 Outfit: Here SHIN OF ADOX

"You wouldn't eat carrot mash even if I were to make it. You're your daughter's father, Dad," Freddie fired back cheerily. "Neither of you will eat your vegetables without first smothering some kind of sugar-mallow fluff or brown sauce or drowning them in gravy. It's a wonder you've kept your banister-like physique all these years." He eyed the half-eaten, heavily-frosted pastry in his father's hand. "At the rate you're going, it may take Roxy and I each at one handle of a wheelbarrow to move you about." Taking up a rag from behind the counter, Freddie began into his morning chores of wiping down the glass of the display cases. He was truly his mother's son in this respect. Much to his grandmum's dismay, Mum couldn't cook much more than boiling to save her life, but she was meticulous when it came to cleaning and keeping a tidy spot. His cousins thought him daft, but Freddie actually found a certain peace and relaxation in cleaning; it hardly seemed a chore to him - well... most of it. "You're also the co-owner whose turn it is to clean Muriel's pen beneath the machine," Freddie pointed out. Muriel being the name his father and namesake uncle had given to the miniature dragon that resided in the coin-operated booth on the exterior of the shop and accounted for the 'roasting' part of their Weasley's Dragon Roasted Nuts. From what he'd been able to tell Muriel wasn't even a she, but had instead been given the choice name after a great-aunt who was notably snippy and, as his father and uncles put it, "full of more hot air than a dragon." "And I'm just the co-owner trying to pass on sage advice from all my years of accumulated wisdom," he smirked sarcastically, before flashily lifting his raised palm to shield his lips from his father's view, as though to protect some great secret, but instead speaking quite audibly to the First Year to Be. "Like if you think really, really hard about Gryffindor when they place the hat on your head, he'll sort you there - which is where everyone wants to be." As his father guided him away to leave the children to peruse, there was a sense of content that washed over Freddie. At first it had to do with that sense of satisfaction that came from building up and guiding the younger generation of wizards, just as he done as a prefect at Hogwarts. Sure, they'd been tasked with policing the halls and dormitories and keeping order, but the most rewarding part had been being able to help cheer up the homesick or get a despondent student through a tough patch of studies. But Freddie also took great satisfaction from making his father proud. Sometimes he'd felt like he had this massive weight on his shoulders of a reputation to live up to - to be the surrogate to fill the void left in his father's life by his dead uncle. He never resented it, just battled with the feelings that he was looked at as sibling more than son. Always one to appreciate the sweet all the more for the sour, it made the moments all the more special for him. "Thanks, Dad. That means a lot." He felt like he should say more, but he couldn't. Partly because he couldn't think of anything else to say and partly because what little else he could, he had tossed back and forth with whether he even wanted to. Growing up, working the shop hadn't been his dream; even now he wasn't sure it was. But it was a lot easier to stay silent and not share that it likely wasn't your dream when you weren't even sure what your dream was, so you really didn't have a dream to follow if you were going to poke holes in your father's dream by telling him it wasn't yours. Honestly, it was so dizzying that Freddie had determined to keep his mouth shut, his head down, and just keep plugging away making the best of things until he had better perspective. @george

Well... Freddie was right. George hadn't been the healthiest diner in the world. Probably explained why he was so "hyper" even at his age.

"I get my exercise," he said. "I spend whole days following you around and making sure I'm doing this whole owner job right."

George then smirked about his potentially large future figure being hauled around in a wheelbarrow.

"Well your grandfather has some nice ones," he said. "I'm sure he's be happy to give one away given such a noble cause."

George sighed when he was informed that it was his turn to clean the dragon's cage. George was definitely glad the enchantment that kept the dragon at that size was still working well. He really didn't want to come to the shop one day and find it had worn off and the creature was making a fine barbeque out of his lifelong dream.

"Fine, but when I'm done, you have to feed the nasty little bugger," he said.

George nodded over the statement about Gryffindor. It was true, and most in the family did indeed end up there. In fact, George was a bit shocked when his nephew Albus ended up in Slytherin, not that he had anything against the boy. It was just quite a surprise.

"Gryffindor was definitely the place to be," he said. "Well, unless you weren't a fan of living in a tower most of the year. My ears cease to stop up after a while, but it wasn't fun the first couple of years."

George gave Freddie a sincere smile when he showed his appreciation for the compliment his dad gave. George then slapped him on the arm playfully.

"Alright, enough mush. It will ruin our appetite for lunch... and I believe it's your turn to buy it today," he said.

FREDERICK LEEO WEASLEY

Words: 435 Outfit: Here SHIN OF ADOX

Freddie laughed aloud and heartily. Not that this was something uncommon in the least, just the opposite, it always just seemed like an awful thing to waste any opportunity to laugh. And with his father he was rarely scarce for opportunity. "You do a fine job by yourself, Dad. Don't sell yourself short. I've just got to keep you on your toes; I'm not going to be around forever, after all." It was meant to be a joke, but as soon as he'd said it Freddie realized how it could be taken quite differently - maybe even how he might have subconsciously intended it to. Consciously he'd meant to play on the way old people, not that his dad was that old really, talk to their children when they're trying to sound sage. Better to just try and quickly steer the subject elsewhere and hope it would quickly fade away. "Muriel's really not that bad." She really wasn't; it was just that most beasts seemed to take issue with his father: His grandfather's bulldog, his uncle's rat - though that rat had actually been a wizard trapped in a rat's body, Doggy... though he really couldn't fault his own cat since his father joked at its running-into-mirrors expense often. "You just need to scratch the scales on her belly and she practically purrs." When the topic turned to the din of the Gryffindor tower, it really just served to make Freddie a bit more nostalgic. Maybe, though he didn't feel as though it was the case, he and his father were just different sorts of people. He'd always enjoyed the raucous nature of common room - it reminded him of home, of the Alley outside the shop and the sounds outside his bedroom window on late mornings in the summer. Of the organized chaos that buzzed around his grandparents' place every holiday when the masses of Weasleys, Potters, and Krums descended upon the Burrow. There was something quite comforting about that commotion. On the topic of lunch, "Buy? he joked, or so it sounded, but really he wasn't. "You think you're getting pizza again, don't you? We've got perfectly leafy greens and tomatoes upstairs. If I'm going to have to push you about in a wheelbarrow then you're going to be trim, so it's salads for you." He paused for a moment then turned to face back to his father with a wide grin plastered across his face. "But if you're a good lad and do all your chores, maybe I'll spring for a couple banger sandwiches from the Cauldron that we can split, too." @george

George smiled when Freddie gave him a bit of a seal of approval on the job he was doing. However, it dropped just a bit when Freddie joked about not being around forever. He knew Freddie meant no harm, but it did hit a bit home with him. He immediately thought of his brother then and without meaning to, the sadness came into his eyes. He quickly smiled again though, never one to stay down in the dumps.

"I'll wager you could live forever if you put your mind to it," he said, and this time he wasn't joking. That's how much he believed in his son.

George then smirked about the dragon.

"It's not really that she's bad," he said. "More that she finds my jokes bad... and shows it. But I'll remember the advice about scratching her belly."

George grimaced a bit about the salad. It wasn't that he didn't like salad. In fact, there was a special salad his wife prepared along with steak that he enjoyed very much. But Freddie was right about George having a craving for junk food. He had since his youth, and today that's what he was craving. However, Freddie had a nice compromise with the sandwiches. George felt he could deal with it.

"Alright, you buy the sandwiches and I'll eat the salad," he said. "And that's MY final offer."

As George stepped over to tidy up one of the shelves, he overheard the children speak about Liam Ollivander and what had happened to the poor fellow. Vanished without a trace. George tried to take everything casually, but when such events occurred in peace time, even he was concerned. He turned to Freddie.

"Heard anything else from the family about Liam?" he asked. He was of course making more reference to the Order of the Phoenix. "Seems everyone's gone bloody bonkers over his recent disappearance."


FREDERICK LEEO WEASLEY