Summer 1992

Chapter 10: Summer 1992

Age 14

"Here, hold this a minute," Fred instructed her as he handed her an object.

Annie took what looked like a foot-long stick in her hand. "What is it?" she asked, turning it over in her hand while examining it for clues.

"What does it look like?" he asked with a smile.

"It looks like a wand, I suppose," she answered, peering at it closely.

"I wouldn't hold it so close to your face," George warned her.

"But, Fred, I thought you said Muggles weren't supposed to..."

BAM!

Annie couldn't finish her sentence before the thing exploded in her hand. It didn't hurt – aside from being startled by the noise and encircled by a thick cloud of smoke, her hand merely felt a slight stinging sensation, as if she'd just slapped something very hard. She waved her arms a bit to clear the smoke as Fred and George bellowed with laughter.

"Well?" asked Fred, once he caught his breath.

"What d'you think?" added George, an expectant look on his face.

"That was...." Annie paused to cough, clearing the smoke from her throat. "Bloody brilliant!" she exclaimed, grinning at them both.

"Pay up, Fred!" cried George happily, holding out his hand expectantly.

"What were you betting on this time?" she laughed. "Was I the guinea pig?"

"Your reaction," chuckled Fred. "I must say I'm happy to lose this one to you, George," he said with a smile as he handed over a coin to his twin. "Didn't fancy being hunted down and picked off like a pheasant by Big Game Hunter Annie," he teased.

"Fred thought you might be pissed off," George explained, pocketing the coin. "I tried to remind him how much you love it when stuff blows up," he added with a shrug. He handed her a handkerchief he had pulled from his back pocket. "Here – you'll want to clear off the soot."

Annie glanced down at her hand that had held the wand, noticing it was blackened. She began to wipe it off as she spoke excitedly. "What else have you got? Any more explosives?"

"Don't forget your face as well," Fred reminded her.

Annie obeyed, wiping more of the black stuff off her face.

"Just the fake wands, as yet," George replied. "It's taken a while to tweak the charm, see. It has to be hidden in the object..."

"Then go off at the right time..." added Fred.

"But not cause any real physical damage," George concluded. "Quite a challenge, actually."

"Bet Flitwick lives to regret letting that exploding spell slip in front of us," laughed Fred.

"Mum'd do a lot worse than send him a Howler, I expect, if she ever found out!" George agreed.

"I can't wait to start leaving a few of them around the common room next term!" Fred said in anticipation, with his brother nodding in agreement.

"Can you enchant anything with this spell?" Annie asked eagerly.

"I suppose..." muttered George, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him before.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Fred, intrigued.

"There must be a million things! What about ink pens? Cups? Dishes! Spoons! Clothing!" She was nearly shouting with excitement. Then she gasped. "What about underpants? Can you even imagine it?"

The boys looked at her in stunned amazement.

"George, are you writing any of this down?" Fred asked, eyes wide.

"Underpants?" George spluttered. "You're diabolical, you are," he whispered reverently.

"You'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams!" she squealed, jumping up and down. "I'd buy a hundred – if you'd sell me any, that is."

Fred snorted at Annie's delusions of grandeur.

"Sell them?" cried George. "Who would buy a stupid fake wand?"

"Who wouldn't?" she countered. "They're not stupid – they're fantastic! I'd give anything to distribute a few of them to some choice idiots in town, myself.... Everyone will want one! There'll be a huge demand for these, mark my words."

"Fred, d'you really think...?" George asked, turning to his brother.

Fred shrugged. "Dunno. But I'm definitely willing to give it a go, if you are."

"We'll have to work on them this summer. Build up the stock," George mused aloud.

"What can I do to help?" Annie asked.

"Help?" both boys asked in unison, surprised by the offer.

"Sure! I can collect sticks and whittle them a bit to look like a wand. Then you lot can enchant them."

"What's in it for you?" pushed Fred. "We can't pay you...."

"Sure we can," argued George. "With the profits."

"If there are any, that is. I'm not convinced there will be. I mean, what's the market for these wands anyway, besides gits like us?" Fred argued back.

"I don't want your money. Keep it and use it to expand the business," she argued.

"The business.... I like the sound of that, Fred!" cried George.

Fred nodded. "Me, too!" he said with a grin.

Annie danced around, whooping with excitement. "The business!" she chanted repeatedly.

"I think this calls for a toast, Fred," said George, looking at his brother pointedly.

"Excellent idea, George," agreed Fred.

They snuck up behind Annie as she celebrated and scooped her up between them.

"Ready for a drink, Annie?" George asked.

"Bottom's up!" Fred warned her.

They tossed her into the river as she screamed and flailed through the air. An instant later, they jumped in after her.

*

Annie lay on her back, gazing up at the stunningly clear black sky. Uncountable stars were scattered across the universe laid out before her. Tiny, insignificant human girl that she was, she peered out at the galaxy from the surface of her tiny, insignificant backwater of a planet. The staggering vista put her in a rather philosophical frame of mind.

"Are you still awake?" she asked her companions quietly.

She wouldn't be surprised if they weren't. Whenever the trails had gotten too crowded today, they had veered off into the thick woods or scrambled over any rocky outcroppings that had looked interesting. It had been a long day hiking through the Dartmoor wilderness, and they were all quite tired.

"What?" came a quiet answer.

"How do you do it, exactly? How does it happen?" she asked in a whisper.

"What are you on about now?" a slightly different voice asked.

"When you do a spell, I mean. What exactly happens?" Annie heard some rustling as a body rolled over inside a sleeping bag, then a hushed voice answered her.

"Well, usually you say a word... and you sort of wave your wand in that direction... and it happens," whispered Fred.

"So, is it the word, then, that does it?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so," George weighed in quietly. "Loads of wizards do spells without saying anything. Saying the word out loud helps you learn how to do a particular spell in the beginning, but it's not always required, especially after lots of practice."

"Then it's the wand?" she asked.

"A wand definitely helps.... I can't imagine doing magic without one. But just by itself, it doesn't do anything. A wand helps to... focus... the magic. I don't know if that's the right word, actually. Maybe 'conduct' is more accurate?" George mused aloud.

"If it's not a word, or the wand, then what is it? Something inside you?" she pressed.

"It's like we told you before," offered Fred. "You're born with it. The words and the wands just help train it up," he explained, sounding mildly interested.

"I know that bit. But what were you born with, exactly? Where inside you does it come from? Is it your soul, maybe? Or your brain?" she asked.

After a pause long enough to make Annie wonder if they had both fallen asleep, she rolled over onto her stomach to check on her friends. Fred was lying on his back to her left, eyes closed, hands folded behind his head. Beside him, George was to her right, facing her while lying on his stomach, head held up in his hand, propped on his elbow, clearly deep in thought.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it was brain," George offered. "When you get down to it, doing a spell relies on concentration. That's what all the professors bang on about anyway: 'Concentrate! Focus your mind!' That would explain how really little kids pop off weird little bits of magic before they can even talk properly."

Annie nodded. That makes sense. "So, you were born with something in your brain... that allows you to consciously... manipulate, for lack of a better word... the laws of nature," she rambled, thinking aloud.

In the starlight, Annie could see George's eyebrows lift in surprise. "Laws of nature?"

"You know, like gravity," she explained. Annie concentrated, dredging through what she had learned last year in physical science class. "When you fly on a broom, you propel your mass forward or upward while resisting the force of gravity, but without using any energy. Or at least, any form of energy a scientist would understand. You call that energy 'magic,' I suppose."

"Interesting way of looking at it," George agreed, contemplating the idea.

"I wonder if you can affect other forces? Or maybe even atoms? You told me before about a class called transfiguration. Is that what I think it is?" Annie asked.

"Turning something into something else," Fred offered, apparently still awake and listening.

Annie nodded. "Right. So, how deeply does that change go? Is it just a visual trick? Does the thing actually remain the same but only look different to the observer? Or does it literally change from one thing into another?"

"The latter, I think," answered George after a moment's consideration. "The teacup really does become a mouse. It breathes, eats, everything... for a little while, anyway."

"So, it's a transformation at the molecular level, at the very least," continued Annie excitedly.

"Molly-whats?" George asked.

"Gibberish. She's makin' up words now, George," Fred muttered.

"Molecular," she said, enunciating carefully. "Everything in the universe – well, everything that has mass, anyway – is made up of tiny little particles called molecules, which are made up of tinier particles called atoms, which are made of even tinier things yet, and so on. You lot can take the atoms of a teacup and somehow rearrange them into the atoms of a mouse, apparently just by wishing it to happen." Annie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in concentration as she spoke.

"Everything is just little tiny particles? Is that really what Muggles think? What a load of rubbish," Fred said with no small amount of amusement.

"It's true!" Annie insisted. "Scientists have even seen them. There's a picture in my school book – they all line up in rows to make something solid, or otherwise float around bouncing off each other for liquids and gasses. I'll show you someday. Every different thing in the universe uses different combinations of the same basic stuff in an infinite number of different ways. Pretty amazing, actually."

Fred and George both nodded slightly in agreement as they pondered Annie's comments.

"What about light? Can you affect light?" she asked.

"Well... sometimes, but not always, there's a flash of light when you do a spell," offered Fred.

"Right! Like when George's wand shot off a couple summers ago – I forgot about that. So that means electromagnetism is involved as well," she said.

"Say that word one more time?" George requested.

"Electromagnetism. Light waves and particles and magnets. Positive and negative charged things, that bit," she explained.

"Light and magnets – them I've heard of. Is this like the 'electricity' business that Dad's always on about?" George asked, sounding curious.

"Yep, that, too," Annie replied. "Electricity is electrons – little negatively-charged specks – moving around. You said one time that electricity and magic don't mix well...?"

"Yeah. Dad says Muggle stuff gets all bollocksed-up by magic. He must mean the electrical things," George answered.

"But that's not always true. I mean, remember that time we went to the store and you two were messing with all the different stereos? They worked just fine," Annie argued.

"We weren't stupid enough to use magic in the middle of a Muggle store, git!" laughed Fred.

"We were twelve years old, for crying out loud. We do have some control," chuckled George, swatting Annie's head gently.

"But that's something else, isn't it? It means magical force fields aren't just gushing out of you at all times. Your bodies aren't made of magic or producing magic at all times. It's something you can direct or produce only at will," she thought aloud.

"Oh – I see what you mean now. Wizards are just humans, after all; same as you, except with something more – an ability – Muggles don't have," said George.

"Right. An ability..." Annie mused.

"And some wizards have more ability than others," added Fred.

"They do?" Annie asked.

"Yeah. There are some with massive amounts of ability, like Dumbledore. He can do stuff most of us would never even dream of," explained Fred while George nodded enthusiastically. "And then there's the opposite extreme – a Squib."

"Like Filch," George interjected, snickering.

"A Squib doesn't have any ability at all, even though everyone else in their family does," continued Fred.

Annie felt a stab of sympathy for those poor people, forced like her to always feel inferior among those they cared about. What a cursed life, she thought, knowing you were supposed to be able to do magic, yet couldn't. At least she had an excuse, being a Muggle.

"Or you can be magical but just incompetent, like Longbottom," added George.

"Tosspot," said Fred as he laughed gently.

"So, your ability level is something you're born with, as well?" she asked.

"To some extent, I think the answer is yes," explained George thoughtfully. "You can usually get better at something with practice, of course; but for some people, certain kinds of magic will always be just too difficult. Out of reach, so to speak.

"And on the other hand, some types of magic come really easily to some. Like me and Fred with charms. We're usually the first ones in that class to pick up a new spell..."

"Or Lee, with transfiguration. He's really something..." added Fred.

"It can affect the quality of the spellwork, as well," continued George.

"What do you mean – quality?"

"How completely something is changed, or how long the change lasts," George replied. "Within limits of course. Some things are guaranteed not to last, like conjuring money or food. Can't be done. On the other hand, some simple, small changes can last a pretty long time. Other things, especially if you're willing to stretch yourself or take some big risks, can be permanent."

"Like what?" Annie asked.

"Well, you could become an Animagus – a wizard that can turn himself into an animal whenever he wants. That's one way," George explained.

"Any animal?" The thought thrilled Annie. Was she constantly surrounded by wizards posing as animals? How would you know which ones were actually wizards?

"Well, always the same one, every time. I'm not sure you get to choose which one, either. I think the one you become somehow reflects you, or your personality," George replied.

"You two'd better never try it. You'll be pigs for sure," laughed Annie.

George and Fred both snorted dismissively.

"Maybe you'd like to try it..." warned Fred, pretending he was reaching for his wand.

"Don't forget I know about the Trace, moron," she taunted.

Fred stuck out his tongue at her while George laughed at him. "Three more years... then you had better watch out, Little Miss Muggle," retorted Fred.

Annie laughed at the empty threat. Fred was always promising to hex her beyond recognition. "What else? You said becoming an Animagus was one way of making a permanent change...."

"Right. Well, another way is... well, not very nice, to put it mildly."

"George, don't," warned Fred, suddenly very serious.

"Tell me! I want to know!" she begged.

"Look, without going into details – because I happen to agree with Fred, for once – there are kinds of magic, and different sorts of wizards who do such magic, that you wouldn't want to cross, if you get my meaning."

"Bad guys?" Annie asked, trying to follow his vague hints.

George nodded. "That sort of magic – a curse – isn't something you can undo, once it's done. That's why it's illegal. Shouldn't be taken lightly. They can do some real damage... permanent sorts of damage."

Annie pondered this thought: that some wizards could use magic for evil purposes. Just how evil are they talking about? What sort of permanent damage? Is this what he'd been referring to in their last letter, about the wizard who had been permanently defeated by the Harry Potter kid?

"Can you kill somebody with magic?" she whispered, unwilling to believe the possibility.

"Yes," they both whispered in reply.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed.

Both her friends winced at the volume of her voice. "Shut it!" hissed Fred as George, being closer, roughly clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle any further outbursts.

"Sorry," she whispered an apology once George finally released her. "That was just a bit of a shock, is all...."

"Maybe we should talk about something else," whispered George as he scanned the surrounding area for evidence anyone had overheard her.

"Or go to sleep," suggested Fred sternly.

"No! I promise I'll be quiet," she pleaded.

Fred rolled over to face away from them. Annie stuck her tongue out at his back, and George chuckled quietly.

"Tell me something else about magic," she asked in a whisper as she and George both lay back down on their backs, heads resting on each other's shoulders.

"Like what?" he asked.

"I don't know.... What's your favorite spell?"

"Disillusionment Charm, hands down," George replied.

"What's that?"

"Makes something – or someone – invisible for a bit."

"Oh. I should have guessed something like that, delinquent that you are," she chuckled. "That must come in handy avoiding detention."

George quietly laughed his agreement. "Now it's my turn. I want to ask you some questions about Muggles," he said, slightly more serious.

"What could you possibly want to know?" she asked incredulously. It always amazed her that George was interested in everyday, non-magical stuff, him being a wizard and all.

"First – is it true that Muggles have been to the moon?"

Annie snorted in surprise. "Yes, it is. Haven't wizards?"

George shook his head. "Not that anybody knows of; or at least, nobody takes the claims seriously. It's too far away and nobody's been there before so there's no frame of reference. But Muggles did!? Blimey, that's amazing!" he whispered in excitement. "How did they manage it?"

"Well, it was a long time ago, actually – before we were born." She was pleased he was so interested. It never occurred to her that Muggles had done something wizards had apparently not. She had done a report and presentation about this very thing for school, so could speak somewhat knowledgeably, as well. She found it amusing that this topic had interested them both.

"The Americans landed there six times between 1969 and 1972. Each time, they launched a rocket into space which was more than 350 feet long and went as fast as 15,000 miles an hour."

"Merlin's beard!" George whispered, incredulous. "You're joking...."

"Nope. And it took almost three days going that fast to get from the Earth to the moon. The next day, the lunar module separated from the orbiter and landed on the surface of the moon. Two astronauts got out and walked around on it, collected some rocks. Then they came back to Earth. Their footprints and some of the equipment are still there."

"Can anybody do it? Ride a rocket into space?" he asked, awestruck.

"Hypothetically, yes, I suppose – there's no law against it that I've ever heard. But practically speaking, no. Only governments have the billions of pounds it takes to build the rockets, and nobody's sent one to the moon for ages. You could argue almost anyone could become an astronaut, though, if you study and train hard enough. The Americans still send them up pretty regularly into Earth orbit. There's a space station there now that belongs to the Russians and talk about building an international one." She had read about these things while doing her research for the report.

"So, you could go up there... into space... if you really tried?" he asked her wistfully.

"I suppose so," she said with a smile as she gazed at the ocean of stars above them. She harbored little doubt that if a wizard ever truly wanted to go into space, it would not be an insurmountable difficulty to do so. But it was nice to hear the wishful tone in George's voice – instead of her own – for once.

*

The three friends were walking along the main street of Ottery, making their way back toward the forest after having completed their errand. Each boy carried a grocery bag filled with rolls of plastic wrap and other generic pranking equipment. The twins were making final preparations for their journey back to Hogwarts in one week's time.

"You're awfully jumpy," George commented to Annie. "Are you expecting an ambush or something?"

"Hmm?" Annie asked distractedly. She had been scanning the street, praying they'd avoid being seen by anyone who knew her. And since pretty much the entire population of this place would recognize her on sight, the odds were not in her favor. People here certainly seemed to love talking about her lately, and if that scrutiny should turn itself on the twins, or their family.... That was why she hadn't caught what George had said.

"You seem anxious," he repeated patiently.

"Worried someone will spot you with us?" teased Fred.

Annie smiled nervously. Her anxiety level increased with his on-the-mark guess. "Don't be silly."

"Hey, Fred, look! The phone booth! Remember the first time we used the phone?" George cried.

"That was a laugh, wasn't it, Annie?" Fred chuckled.

"Oh, yeah. My ear is still ringing. What on earth made you think you had to shout?" she giggled, momentarily cheered by the funny memory.

"One usually has to speak loudly to be heard by a person far away," chided Fred defensively.

"Let's do it again. Run home and ring us, Annie," urged George.

"Can't you lot hurry up? It's hot," she argued, made more anxious by the thought of prolonging the boys' exposure a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

"And you're grouchy," added Fred.

George shook his head in puzzlement. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing! But for someone who's supposed to avoid the notice of Muggles, you two gits certainly are taking your sweet time parading down High Street in broad daylight!" she barked.

"Okay, then!" cried Fred, taken aback.

"So, you're worried about us walking down the street carrying marketing bags. I can see why you'd think that might draw attention," George commented sarcastically.

"Yes – we're positively glowing with magic at the moment, aren't we?" Fred added.

"Let's just keep moving, okay?" she sighed, picking up her pace. They were almost to the river's bridge, and then she would be able to relax again.

A while later, Fred and Annie were sitting in the shade of the willow, feet dangling in the little stream beneath it, chatting quietly. George was standing in the water, bent over and searching the opposite bank for signs of an imp. He knew they were Annie's favorite and thought one might cheer her out of her strange anxious funk.

"I swear it's true!" cried Fred, attracting his brother's attention.

"You expect me to believe that old Anglia of yours – that absolute bucket of a car – flew to Surrey and back. That's nearly 150 miles, Fred. Be reasonable," Annie argued.

"Tell her, George," Fred urged his brother, looking for backup.

"That bucket, which you so rudely insulted, is far superior to any heap you've ever found yourself in, I'll wager," George weighed in with a teasing smile.

"Well, obviously, since it can fly," she countered, smiling herself.

"Invisibly fly, I might add," said Fred.

"Of course it's invisible. I'll bet it has an infinitely large trunk as well and can carry a family of seven in comfort," she joked sarcastically.

"How did you know?" Fred laughed, a bit startled by her accurate description.

"Don't you ever get tired of spinning all this bullshit?" she said with a laugh.

"Anyway, back to my thrilling tale of adventure. We got to Harry's house in the wee hours of the morning. A bit of a surprise for Harry, it was, to see us there outside his window!" he laughed.

"It was a prison, that room of his! Door locked, his owl's cage locked, his trunk locked away downstairs.... They slipped him his food through a little trap in the door!" George added in disgust.

"There were even bars on the window! Complete nutters, those Muggles he lives with," Fred cried.

"Those people are horrid!" she agreed, indignant on their friend's behalf. "That's child neglect, that is. Illegal! Someone should report them!"

Fred and George both looked at her in exasperation. How would involving Muggle authorities help the situation?, their expressions asked her.

"Right. That was stupid. Go on," she encouraged.

She felt sorry for their friend Harry, whose parents had been murdered when he was a baby. She could empathize, being an orphan herself. Apparently life with his Muggle aunt and uncle wasn't much of an improvement over an orphanage. The situation sounded like something out of Oliver Twist. Once again, she thanked her lucky stars for her Gran.

"So, anyway, as I was saying... thank goodness for you, Annie. We'd never have gotten him out if you hadn't taught us that lock-picking trick," Fred added, patting her on the head in a patronizing manner.

Annie swatted his hand away. "Glad to be of service. Finally, the skill was used for a noble purpose!" she laughed.

"Any mischief is noble, as far as I'm concerned," argued George.

"That'd make you a knight in shining armor, then, wouldn't it?" she giggled.

George grinned. "Reckon so," he chuckled. Then he turned and began conducting an imaginary sword battle where he stood in the stream, splashing and grunting and roaring as he did, until he took one theatrically in the gut.

"Now, if I could just finish my story uninterrupted," said Fred crossly as his brother expired noisily on the ground beside Annie, flopping like a fish.

"Please continue. I'm hanging on every word," Annie said mockingly, ignoring George's curiously persistent and convulsive last gasps.

Fred smirked. "On the drive home, Harry shared an interesting tale of his own. Apparently, a house-elf has been causing trouble for him lately..."

"Intercepting letters. Crashing cakes onto the heads of important houseguests," George chimed in, rising from the dead.

"Says Harry shouldn't go back to Hogwarts this year. Says something bad is going to happen there."

"That doesn't sound promising," said Annie, worried. "And what's a house-elf? You mentioned them before, in a letter this spring...."

"A servant," Fred explained. "Well, a bit more than just a servant, actually. They're little creatures... odd-looking things, really. Powerfully magical to boot."

"And Harry has one?" That doesn't really fit with the concept of him being a poor, friendless orphan, Annie thought.

"No," laughed George. "But somebody who wants to mess with Harry does. And you can bet they're an old, stinking rich family."

"Does that narrow down the list of suspects?" she asked. They'd never really discussed the economics of wizarding society before, aside from showing her the funny coins the boys used as money.

"Not really. It does eliminate us, however," sighed Fred.

Annie looked at him in bafflement.

"Haven't you noticed?" he asked.

"Noticed what?" she replied.

"The Weasleys are nearly as far as you can get from rich. Nearly everything we have is old and second-hand," George explained simply.

"What difference does that make? And no, I hadn't noticed. You've always looked perfectly fine to me. I mean, I've always thought it was a bit odd that you insist on dressing identically, but other than that..." she teased, hoping to cheer them. It was disturbing to see them both looking so morosely thoughtful at once.

Both boys laughed.

"That's Mum's fault. She started it when we were little..." George began to explain.

"And it's actually come in quite handy at times," Fred followed.

"Aside from you, nobody else can tell us apart, see."

"We've gotten out of a few spots of trouble that way."

"Due to an inability to positively identify the perpetrator...."

"We'd both get off on a technicality," they said in unison.

Annie shook her head in mock awe. "Masterful!" she exclaimed. "Forget the trick wand business. You two were tailor-made for lives of crime."

Two nearly identical smiles beamed at her. "Thanks!" they said.