Epilogue

For the most part, law and order seemed to fly out the great oak doors along with Fred and George. Chaos, mischief and mayhem became the norm around the castle. Practical jokes and pranks were made against Umbridge, Filch and any member of the Inquisitorial Squad, or any student from Slytherin for that matter, throughout the day and even at night. Although, all the other professors were for the most part exempt from receiving the brunt of the mischief and pranks, general rule breaking reached an all time high. There were so many Stink Pellets, Dungbombs, Crack-Snaps and exploding firecrackers in the corridors it actually became fashionable to wear the Bubble-Head Charm as soon as you left your common room.

Rumors of Fred and George's great escape ran rampant throughout the castle, and their story was retold so often, Dylan was sure that it would eventually become another Hogwarts legend. The swamp remained in place as none of the professors made any attempt to remove it, and Umbridge was obviously utterly incapable to handle the clean up. So every day Filch was required to punt the students across so that they could all get to their classes, causing long queues on either side of the swamp and making students late to their lessons. Anyone who had Defense Against the Dark Arts went out of their way so that they had to cross the swamp to get to the Toad's classroom. Many of Dylan's classmates arrived with the hems of their robes soaking, reeking of stagnant water and leaving muddy boot prints on her floor.

Also, the now famous door from Umbridge's office had been removed. The rumor was that it had been hidden in the dungeons, but it had in fact been placed in one of Filch's storerooms. Dylan found the storeroom quite by accident and took the door, shrinking it, so that she could hide it in her trunk. Possibly, if Fred ever answered any of her letters, she would owl it to him, but for now, she held onto the door like a cherished treasure.

Members of the Inquisitorial Squad had it especially rough, as they found themselves attacked on a daily basis and frequently from more than one student at a time. Pansy Parkinson was hit by a Pig-Nose Transfiguration Spell one day, Snot-Running Hex another, and an Antler Hex the next. Cillian Warrington was given the Reverse-Foot Hex one morning, Knocking-Knees Jinx the next and some curse that seemed to cover every inch of exposed skin in something resembling cornflakes, the following afternoon.

Adrian Pucey had just recovered from a rather well done Serpent-Spine Curse when he was apparently pelted with Stinksap, which didn't mix very well with the bubotuber powder Dylan saw a fifth-year throw at him. Even Larissa Celford was hit with a Stretching Hex and a Knee-Reversing Hex simultaneously that landed her in the hospital for a few days. She had just been released when Dylan hit her with the Bat-Bogey Hex Fred had taught her.

Even third-years became fairly adept at animal-appendage Transfiguration spells, engorgement, thickening and lengthening jinxes of every possible type, from eyebrows to fingers and toenails, and Jelly Curses for every possible body part as well as Trip Jinx, Langlock, Body Binds and Stunning and Immobilizing Jinxes. Leg-Knotting Hexes were fired at random at passing Slytherins and many adaptations were created that seemed to affect any appendage: fingers, elbows, knees, legs and arms. Twitchy-Ears was also adapted to affect nose, eyes, lips, every other appendage, even hips of Inquisitorial Squad at random.

A Flitterbloom bush appeared in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, sitting next to the Toad's chair. Apparently the Toad couldn't even tell the difference from a Flitterbloom plant and Devil's Snare, and the plant scared Umbridge so much she refused to go near her desk. Amusingly enough, Professor Sprout was too preoccupied with pruning her plants to be able to help her. Twice, nifflers were put into Umbridge's office and nearly bit her fingers off trying to get her rings.

Dylan's idea of sabotaging the Toad's water sparked the imagination of a few others. Someone managed to put Swelling Solution in Umbridge's water pitcher in one class, and the next day someone slipped the Toad a Babbling Beverage. Unfortunately after drinking some Treble-Draft Dylan slipped her, the Toad no longer kept any water on her desk. But, that didn't stop Dylan and Jolliet from leaving bubotuber pus on the chair in her office, along with a huge bouquet of Fanged Geraniums on her desk, and a pile of Mallowsweet stalks hidden in her Floo, then jamming the Floo closed so that the smoke would fill her office rather than rise out.

Every Defense Against the Dark Arts class, from the first-years through the seventh, began to skiv off lessons. Fevers, nosebleeds, fainting, vomiting, boils and rashes broke out on a daily basis. If these are all from Fred and George's candies and sweets, thought Dylan, they have a very good start on their shop. As it was, Dylan had become rather prone to nosebleeds herself, thanks to a box of nougats from Fred, and was getting quite used to the taste of Blood-Replenishing Potion. She was taking it so often, she was contemplating learning how to brew the potion herself.

On another day, Dylan and Jolliet broke into Umbridge's loo, switched her shampoo and conditioner labels, put quagmire in her facial mask, and set off some Dungbombs.

Every night Dylan slept with her window open so that her mum's owl, Sina, could fly in. Each week, in the dead of night when Sina delivered her mail, Dylan would send her off to Fred and George with a lengthy letter, letting them know about any shenanigan, prank, or mischief she heard about around the castle. She only hoped that they would figure out her hint about the perfume spray she'd sent them. However, Fred never answered her letters.

The next thing Dylan knew N.E.W.T.s were upon them. Every moment of her day was spent either revising for the upcoming N.E.W.T. written exams or practicing with her friends for the practical exams.

One morning, before Dylan's Charms N.E.W.T. practical, Dylan was stunned by the news that Umbridge and four other wizards tried to sack Professor Hagrid in the middle of the night. Professor McGonagall had tried to intervene on his behalf and was hit by no less than four Stunners to her chest. Dylan had gasped in shock at the news.

Professor Hagrid apparently tried fight off all five wizards, defending Professor McGonagall and barely escaped with his own life by running out the front gates, carrying his dog, Fang, in his arms. Worse, students said that Professor McGonagall was so badly hurt that she had been taken to St. Mungo's because Madam Pomfrey couldn't cure her. Needles to say, Dylan had a hard time concentrating in her Charms practical; her nonverbal Cheering Charm was too strong, and her Patronus scarcely took form and lasted only a minute. She walked out of the Great Hall feeling like she barely passed her exams. Nevertheless, she hurried to the owlery to ask her parents to send flowers to Professor McGonagall to cheer her up.

Throughout the week, the castle was rampant with wild rumors. The strangest Dylan heard was about five students from Gryffindor and Luna Lovegood from her own house. One rumor was that apparently Umbridge, for some unknown reason, followed Harry Potter and his friends into the Forbidden Forest, but that they pulled a Weasley and escaped. The other was that Umbridge went into the forest to try and evict the centaurs... or she attacked them... something like that – and ended up abducted by the herd. What seemed to be definite was the story that Harry Potter and his friends had left school.

The next day Luna strolled into the common room, said good morning to Dylan, Jolliet and Mary Ellen, and walked casually to her room. Half the girls followed her to try and find out where she'd been. All Luna said was that Harry Potter had to save the Ministry of Magic and that Dumbledore was back. No one believed her until breakfast the next morning when they all saw Dumbledore sitting in his chair at the High Table table. Apparently, the news that Dumbledore had returned and had taken back the school had been correct. Dylan felt that she would never distrust or doubt Luna again.

It was on Sunday, when the truth came out. The Daily Prophet carried the story of Thursday night's events, detailing that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers attacked Harry Potter, Ronald Wesley, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Ginevra Weasley and Luna Lovegood in the Department of Mysteries, inside the Ministry of Magic itself. The Ministry was finally admitting that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned and that Dumbledore and Harry Potter had been telling the truth all along. Somehow, Dylan felt only deep sorrow and great apprehension about the news and ended up in her dorm room crying. She wrote one final letter to Fred and George telling them everything, this time not bothering to use the special invisibility ink, but her dark blue instead. There was no point. With Dumbledore back the owls were not being intercepted anymore. Things were beginning to settle down to normal at Hogwarts.

The day that Professor McGonagall returned, Dylan slipped down to the fifth floor corridor in the east wing to see the remains of Fred and George's swamp. The huge swamp that for weeks had taken up the entire corridor, had been reduced to a manageable puddle that covered only half the corridor under the window. A thick braided cord roped off the remains of the swamp, and Dylan walked the length of the barrier, sliding along her finger along the silky cord, staring into the murky water. She pulled out a small plaque from her pocket, tapping the back with her wand, then touching the wall, saying the Permanent Stick Charm and set the plaque in place. For the first time in days, she smiled and walked away.

Her plaque read:

Fred and George Weasley

Gryffindor House from 1989 to 1996

They stood up for what was right.

Brought smiles to all who knew them.

They considered this swamp their finest achievement.

But their legacy will be the fun, laughter and brevity

their mischief and creativeness added to our lives.

Class of 1996

~o0o~

It had been months. Dylan's family had been worried all year and decided to spend the hot summer months in Greece. As September neared it zenith, Dylan moved to Hogsmeade to stay with her brother. She had sent owls to several job possibilities, but few of the offers seemed to entice her.

As Jolliet suggested, Dylan did apply to both WhizzHard Books and Obscurus Books, as well as to Witch Weekly as an editor. She had interviews set up with all three. Dressed in her best dark blue robe and a simple black dress, she left the offices of Obscurus Books, feeling like the offer made by Wilbur Raincoast, the editor and chief, was rather generous and wondering to herself why his decision to hire her didn't excite her. Her mood was as blank and empty as some of the shop windows she passed. She had wanted an ice cream, a rich ice cream sundae with plenty of caramel and whipped cream, but was deeply saddened that Florean Fortescue's was boarded up. So were Ollivander's and the second hand robe shop. Twilfitt and Tattings had a sign that read 'By appointment only,' hanging over the 'closed' sign in the window.

She stood outside the door of the Magical Menagerie, staring at the posted notice, showing the photographs of four of the escaped convicts from Azkaban with a sense of dread before entering the shop. "May I help you, miss?" the proprietor, a woman with heavy black spectacles, asked.

"I'm interested in a kneazle," Dylan replied. "Or a half-kneazle would do."

"Of course, miss. Excellent animals to have around in times like these, aren't they... Yes – of course they are," the kindly witch replied. "We have several half-kneazle kittens – all adorable." Dylan was shown the pen. She sat down, watching the kittens carefully, and waited until one showed the proper interest. Two of the kittens rubbed against the wires, but one in particular seemed to sit, looking back at her as if regarding her as a potential owner. It stood and stretched, then sat down again. The kitten almost looked like a Siamese or Burman snowshoe cat with a fluffy, dark tail and dark ears, a beige body with white around its nose and on all four feet. The little kitten had bright azure eyes. However, the kitten was long and gangly, likely to grow into a rather large cat, and the medium-length, fluffy fur bore the subtle spotted pattern, obviously carried over from its kneazle parent. What impressed Dylan most was the way the kitten regarded her, intelligent and thoughtful.

"Hello," Dylan said softly. "You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

The kitten twitched its tail in response.

"And how would you like to come home with me?" she asked.

The kitten's azure eyes stared at her, intently, and its tail twitched again.

"Although, I can't see why you would..."

The kitten stretched and stood again, taking a few steps in Dylan's direction and sat down as if making up its mind.

"Of course, I'm job hunting... Living on my small savings... and haven't a home yet... I'm staying with family for now... Actually my brother's house... and, well... I'm choosing my options... but I don't know what I want."

The kitten yawned and looked up over Dylan's head as she continued talking. "I just haven't decided yet, I suppose. But I'm a cat of sorts myself. I suppose I'm really just looking for a companion... and a friend – someone to love and curl up with. Are you interested?"

"Definitely," Fred said, standing behind her.

The kitten stepped to the edge of the pen and plopped over, rolling on its back, purring. However, Dylan's attention was now focused on Fred. "Fred! I – um... Hi. How are you?" she asked surprised to see him.

"Doing well," he replied.

"I missed you. I wrote you several times," she piped up and then looked away. "But... I suppose you've been busy."

The kitten made another attempt at getting Dylan's attention, then sat next to the pen, purring louder, looking up at her.

"You wrote me?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I received the cologne you sent – not my type of scent, by the way... and loads of blank sheets of parchment. Every Revealing Spell I tried only showed me copies from some spell books. George and I thought you were trying to single-handily continue our lessons. However, I only received one letter."

"It's not exactly cologne – it's chemicals – that react to the ink... If you had sprayed it on the pages... You thought they were only copies... You never read my letters?" she asked stunned.

He shook his head. "No, the only one I got was a novel telling me about Umbridge getting sacked, Luna's account at the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore retuning – and a long story about our swamp." He looked down at her with a bemused smile on his face. "It's been made into a memorial, huh."

Dylan blushed a deep pink. "Seemed appropriate," she said.

The kitten let out a loud meow.

Dylan leaned down and picked her up, and the kitten began to purr again. "Professor Flitwick said that was quite an amazing demonstration of magic. He felt it was a shame to have to remove it, so he left a sizable amount of it under the window."

He nodded, regarding her thoughtfully. "So, what brings you to Diagon Alley? I saw you walk past the shop. Why didn't you stop by?"

"You never answered my letters," she said, unable to meet his eye. "I thought... maybe... you didn't want to see me again."

"Yeah, I follow every girl I don't want to see again into the Menagerie," he stated with a sweep of his hand. "You didn't answer my question. What brings you to Diagon Alley?" he asked again.

The proprietor chose that moment to walk up to them. "So have you found a match, dear?"

"Yes, I think so," Dylan answered, turning slowly from Fred's questioning stare. "I'll take her."

The proprietor smiled. "Lovely. She will be eight Galleons. And is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Weasley? Some puffskein pellets, perhaps." Dylan pulled eight Galleons from her pocket for the proprietor.

"No, not today, I was just looking," he said. The proprietor gave Dylan a lovely carrier basket. "You never answered my question," he persisted.

"I've been offered a position at Obscurus Books by Wilbur Raincoast," she answered as they left the shop. "I'm to owl him with my decision tonight... but – well, I'm considering the position. I also received an offer from Witch Weekly, which I'm also considering – as an editor."

She hadn't realized it, but Fred had gently steered her in the direction of his shop. "What's holding you back? I thought that you wanted to be an editor?"

"I'm not sure what I want to do. Yes, I wanted a job that involved research... but I wanted something... of a challenge... I can't decide," she answered, although she couldn't keep the uncertainty from her voice. "My parents are moving down to Greece, and Eldrich is planning a long trip to Africa."

"So, where are you staying?" he asked, although Dylan was certain he was just asking to be polite.

"For now... at Eldrich's house," Dylan said. "Mary Ellen and I are going to watch the place until he gets back. She took a job with Illustrious Illuminaries."

"How did you do on your N.E.W.T.s?" he asked as he opened the door to his shop.

Dylan was momentarily shocked by the bright colorful packages and displays. "Thanks to you I passed Defense with an Exceeds," she said, looking around in complete awe. "Mostly because I was able to produce a reasonable shield Patronus," she said, finally looking back at him. "My other N.E.W.T.s were all right. I only received an Exceeds in Charms, an Outstanding in Transfiguration... I transformed, impressed my examiner. I'm registered now."

"Are you?" he asked. Nervously Dylan examined the various exploding items on a shelf. "What markings identify you?"

She was about to answer when George approached. "Dylan! Hi! Finally come to see the shop, have you?"

"George. Hi. It's good to see you," she stammered, smiling at him. It is good to see him. I never realized just how much I've missed them. Fred was watching her intently and George was smiling. "Fred, he brought me – uh, here." She felt awkward under Fred's stare and tried to keep her focus on George. "I bought a cat."

"We don't sell cats – do we sell cats, Fred?" George asked, teasingly, watching Fred. "We have Pigmy Puffs and exploding salamanders, ever-leaping togs... no cats that I recall." He turned back to Dylan. "I loved the concealed copies from all the spell books by the way. I suppose you didn't want us to fall behind in our lessons?"

"Apparently there are concealed messages on those pages. I was supposed to use my new cologne on them," Fred answered before Dylan could explain.

"Thank Circe, that stuff smells god awful," George stated. "Although, we did manage to reproduce the scent for our men's trick de-odorant and our trick aftershave. Revealing Cologne, huh? Imagine that. Don't suppose you'd sell us the formula?" Fred turned his head, his expression undecipherable. George smirked at him and turned back to Dylan, smiling. "So, are you staying for dinner? Love to have you... unless you made plans with Fred?"

"No, no plans..." Fred grabbed her arm and pulled Dylan to the back of the shop and into a work area, and then stood facing her. "So what's going on, Dylan? I thought we had something going, and then you jaberknolled up. I was rather miffed that you didn't write me." He crossed his arms, his eyes betraying his hurt.

"But I did write you! Only everything was being searched... censored, and I had to find a way to send letters that couldn't be read – except by you... and I had to use my mum's owl in the dead of night to send anything. Even then she was caught twice," Dylan tried to explain. "I – you never wrote me... I thought you – that after..." She looked at her basket and the sleeping half-kneazle kitten. "After you left school... and I never heard from you, I assumed things were over."

"I did write you. What I got back looked like blank parchment and a bottle of a strange, bloody awful smelling cologne." He sounded slighted and a bit angry.

Dylan looked up at him, confused. "You did?"

"I sent you three letters, but finally gave up," he stated, exasperated. "Then, when you finally did write me a letter – all twelve parchment sheets – front and back – but you didn't give me any explanation – just a lengthy accounting of the events at school. What was I to think?"

"I never got any letters from you," she said, surprised.

He tilted her face up to look her in the eye. "So, where are we, Dylan? What do you want? Why are you here, now... What do you expect?"

"I – I don't know..." she answered. Her heart was pounding and her mouth went dry. What do I want – I want you... What do I expect – what DO I expect? Nothing. For you to turn me away – to forgive me... "What do you want?"

He was silent as he looked at her, regarding her with a look of scrutiny. "I don't know? I thought that you – that we had something."

"We did – do. I still want us, but if you don't – if you..." She had to say it or she'd always wonder, but the words wouldn't come out. I still love you. "I thought I'd lost you when you left school. It wasn't the same after you'd gone," she confessed softly.

The kitten stirred and Fred took the basket and set it on the worktable.

"Whatever you want... I'll – anything." Her heart was thumping just above her gut.

"I want this," he said softly as he cupped her face and kissed her.

Dylan's mind was floating, time froze and her arms immediately wrapped around him. She kissed him back, and his response was as eager as hers, needy and hungry, firm and demanding. She clung to him, pressing her body against his, and she opened her mouth and his tongue slipped inside and sought hers. He was seeking satisfaction from her, and she responded to him, melding with him, taking pleasure in kissing him, wanting so much more. A moan escaped her as he began teasing her with his tongue and lips, playfully taunting her, drawing her to kiss him. She reached up and kissed him back fervently, months of doubt ebbing away into a feeling of bliss.

When he broke the kiss, her knees felt weak. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "So, are you staying for dinner? I'd love to have you?"

"Yes, I'd like that too," she said, nearly breathless, and he tightened his embrace, holding her as if he would not ever let her go.

"Good."

Author's Notes: