Chapter 7: Diagon Alley

The echoing knock on the great doors signalled the return of the Headmistress with the two boys. Clara nearly chuckled at the goggle-eyed looks on her sons' faces.

"I suppose that's a definite 'yes,' then about going to school here?" Clara asked, her hands on her hips as she smirked.

"If they didn't decide to go to Hogwarts, I can promise you that the American Magical Association will be contacting you for compulsory magical education," Minerva said, peering over her glasses, "Your country's magical governing system leaves a lot to be desired considering that you supposedly live in the land of the free."

"Why don't you force children with magical abilities to go to magical school?" Clara asked incredulously, "That seems like a bad idea. What if their magical abilities go out of control or they seriously hurt themselves or others?"

"The truth is," Minerva said, pausing as though she wasn't sure if she should say it or not "Magic is like any other innate talent. If you do not use it when it first begins to manifest strongly- which is usually around eleven years of age, as it seems to be tied to the onset of puberty for some reason, it eventually just fades away. Magical folks will always have magic, even if they never use it, but it will be significantly weaker, like a muscle that has atrophied. Children who live in the Muggle world have a unique choice- they can decide to join this new world, or they can choose the one they've known their whole lives. It seems like such a monumental choice to make at such a young age, I know, but it is rarely ever made incorrectly."

"Only if we can visit Mom and send her letters," Ryan said fiercely, "You said that we'd be living here for most of the year except for holidays and summertime."

"Yeah!" Rick chimed in, "After all, we're nearly a world away, which is a lot different than most of the students."

"That can be arranged," the Headmistress said primly, "After all, the cost of Portkeys has significantly dropped ever since the wizarding economy has stabilized, and considering that your sons are the children of a known war hero, we would be happy to make accommodations for you."

"Clara!" Fred's image shouted suddenly, causing everyone to jump, "If you don't mind, why don't you have Minerva take you to Diagon Alley! You can see my brother and he will be sure to give you sufficient Galleons for the children to spend on their school supplies. I'll go ahead and let him know you're on your way."

With that, he nearly clicked his heels together with joy and took off running, disappearing as he exited out the side of the portrait.

"Wait!" Clara shouted, but it was too late.

She turned to her sons, who both wore matching expressions of barely contained excitement.

"Is this what you both truly want?" she asked, placing one hand each on their opposite shoulders.

They nodded.

"Ok, then," Clara said, her voice quivering just a little. When exactly had her boys become these independently thinking little people?

"You were our only applicant from the States," Minerva said kindly, as Clara looked up in askance, "So I made certain to leave my afternoon open. I think that visiting Diagon Alley is a splendid idea, as your sons can get the majority of their shopping done for school today."

"Yes, but how-"

"-Will we get there?" Minerva replied with a wink, "Well, that's not a problem. We'll use the Floo Network from my office. You're in for a treat as long as you can speak clearly."

Coughing and sputtering, Clara shot out of the fireplace in a burst of green flame.

"Let me help you up, Miss," said a strangely familiar voice.

Clara wiped the soot out of her eyes and looked up.

"Tom?" she asked incredulously, "What are you doing here?"

"This is my pub, so I ought to be here," he replied gruffly, his eyes widening as he saw her jeans and sweater, "Blimey, a Muggle come through our Floo network? What the bloody hell is going on-"

The fireplace lit up brightly and Minerva stepped through holding the hands of the two boys.

"I trust that there isn't a problem?" she said, looking somewhat fierce as she stepped from the flames.

"N-no, it's just...er...what's with these-"

"These are Fred Weasley's children," Minerva said firmly, "And as such, they have decided to attend their father's school."

Tom went pale and closed his mouth tightly and Clara thought it was quite a good thing that the Headmistress was obviously so talented at discipline that even adults quaked under her gaze.

She'd need all of that ferocity when dealing with the combined pranking prowess of Rick and Ryan, after all.

"This is where….where I met Fred," Clara said, turning red despite herself.

She was very thankful that she was still a bit covered in soot, and hoped that it was a lot less noticeable.

"We just need to go out this way," Minerva said, steering them out a side door and leaving a very silent and shocked Tom standing behind them.

They went through the magical brick wall (which simultaneously made Clara gasp and feel stupid for continuing to be amazed), and out into the bustling street, which seemed to be brimming with activity.

"You'll want to stay close to me," Minerva called out, "Or we might get separated!"

Clara linked arms with Ryan, who held tightly onto the side of the Headmistress's robes. She noticed that Minerva was holding Rick around the wrist with her free hand, which made a lot of sense. The look on his face betrayed the desire he had to slip away unnoticed to explore by himself.

"Ah, here we are," she said, as they turned a corner.

Stretched before them was the largest, most purple shop that Clara had ever seen. The large, cursive golden letters scrolled across the top of the storefront, which had a colored lights display and rainbow clouds of smoke pouring out of a massive wand set into the roof of the shop, creating beautiful animals that moved as though alive before they dissipated into the air.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," read Rick, as he looked in through the large picture windows, "It's a prank shop, isn't it?"

"Oh my lord," Clara groaned, "Fred didn't tell me what sort of business he owned, but now that I know, I'm not even surprised."

She thought that she heard Minerva stifling a snicker, but when she turned, the older woman was as impassive as ever.

"I have some things to pick up at Flourish & Blotts," the Headmistress said with a small smile, "I'll be back to collect you in about twenty minutes."

"Aww, you're not coming in?" Ryan protested.

"Not after the time they let a bunch of Rip Roaring Rippers loose in the store," Minerva said, turning up her nose in an attempt to hide her chagrin at the indignity of the mental image, "They said it was all in good fun! Hmph! Most people don't think it is fun to have their rear ends chased by sharp wind-up walking teeth!"

Rick snorted with laughter, covering his mouth with his hand to try and hide it.

"Thank you for everything, Headmistress," Clara said, holding out her hand to shake, "We really, truly appreciate all that you've done for us."

"It's nothing, my dear," came the reply, as her hand was firmly grasped in a formal handshake, "And it's Minerva, please."

"Then...thank you, Minerva."

The older woman turned with a flourish of robes and disappeared around the corner back the way they'd come, and the three Americans turned to look back at the front doors to the shop.

"Mom, are you ok?" Ryan said softly, looking up at his mother's unsure expression.

"No, I can do this!" Clara replied, more to herself than anyone else.

She pulled open the door and was immediately accosted with the sound of an extremely loud burst of flatulence.

In a moment, Rick and Ryan were practically rolling on the floor laughing while Clara blushed deeply.

"It wasn't me!" she insisted, even though she knew that they didn't seriously believe that the comical noise had come from her.

"Welcome!" a voice called from behind a curtain near the back, "We just opened, so if you'll excuse my rudeness, please enjoy the rudeness over by the register. All Puking Pastilles are 50% off through noon, just in case you're hoping to feign illness for that unpleasant lunch you're planning on having with your mother-in-law!"

"Um...thanks?" Ryan said, approaching the counter and looking skeptically at the boxes and the images of cartoonishly puking wizards.

"Ah, so you've brought your children, then? Well, look no further than our best-selling Whizzy Fizzies!" the voice grew closer and a man with flaming red hair burst through the curtain carrying a box, "Guaranteed to-"

But none of them would hear what they were guaranteed to do, for the man had gone a sickly shade of white as he saw Rick and Ryan looking up at him and dropped the box he'd been holding with a horrible crash.

"It...no...can't be…" he said, staring at the two children as though he was face to face with a ghost.

The man before them was somewhat stocky and had gained a bit of pudge around his middle, as well as a somewhat obnoxious looking handlebar moustache, but the light lines on his forehead and around his eyes did not take away from the fact that he looked just like Clara imagined Fred would have looked had he lived long enough to develop them.

No. He didn't look just like Fred. He looked exactly like Fred.

"George?" she asked, putting her hand up somewhat absentmindedly as though offering it to shake.

He simply gaped at her.

A rustling noise from behind the curtain made everyone turn and look back. A tall, thin man who was obviously a bit younger than George, (but from the flaming red hair was obviously related), pulled one corner of the curtain and stepped in with a somewhat bewildered look on his blue eyes.

"I thought I heard a loud noise- blimey!" he too went a bit pale as he saw the two boys, who'd gone back to looking through the various items near the front of the store with the casual manner of children who were quite convinced that the adults were overreacting again.

"We just got our letters in the mail, and then we went through the Door...Key thing…" Clara said far too brightly, cursing herself for being prone to babble in awkward situations, "And then I talked to Minerva, and the boys...well, we saw the painting...and then we came here."

"You're American," the tall man said in a tone of voice as though she also had two heads.

"Yes?" Clara replied, "My name is Clara Summers."

"Well, you apparently already know my brother George over there," the tall man said, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward with an interested glint in his eyes, "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley. Are...they….?"

"I...I was visiting during winter break in my last year of college and I met Fred one night and...well…" she grinned sheepishly.

"Blimey," Ron said, his voice full of awe before he broke into a huge grin, "George, this is huge! Mum needs to know! Hell, everyone needs to know! I'll send the Patronuses and get everyone sorted out."

The other man nodded slightly, his face still frozen with shock as Ron ran out through the front door and pulled a stick-like object from his robes.

Clara watched as something silver flew from the tip of Ron's wand, and for a moment, she thought she saw it coalesce into the shape of something with four paws as it shot into the sky.

"Their eyes are different," George said woodenly, "But everything else...it's like looking back in time, before...before he..."

"I don't understand," Clara said softly, "Fred's painting told me that he was going ahead to tell you we were on our way. I'm sorry that we've given you such a terrible shock."

A strange barking noise issued forth from George's mouth and Clara realized that he was laughing somewhat brokenly.

"Oh, he would tell you that, but Fred was always a big fan of the shocking surprise gag," George managed, and she could see the tears tracing down the corners of his eyes, darkening the skin as they traveled down his jawline and dripped onto his robes.

"Well, since it's obvious that he hasn't talked to you at all, I suppose I should do my best to fill you in," Clara replied, feeling as though she was treading awkwardly all over an important relationship.

"Please, come up the stairs and take a seat," George said, gesturing to a staircase near the right wall of the shop, "We're opening a Silly Sweet Shoppe section in a few weeks. Maybe you can attend?"

"Boys, be sure to behave!" Clara called in her best motherly voice, and she could see George smirk a little bit, as though he was remembering his own mother saying the exact same thing.

"It should be fine," he said, wiping a final stray tear with one hand, "We'll be able to see them from the balcony."

They walked up the stairs together in silence, and Clara tried to order everything she needed to tell Fred's twin about the boys and their needs. And, for what felt like the thousandth time, she wondered what it would have been like if Fred had lived, if he'd been there for the birth of his sons and the days and years thereafter. And then she had to abruptly force herself to stop thinking about it, because she didn't want to cry in front of everyone yet again.

If only for the boys, she needed to be strong.

They sat at a table near the balcony so that Clara could keep an eye on the boys below.

"Don't worry, for them, everything is free," George said with a sad smile.

"That's not what I'm worrying about," Clara replied cooly, and George smiled a bit less sadly at that.

"So then," he said, "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Well," Clara said, suddenly feeling shy, "It's about...the boys. I think we've pretty much decided that they're attending the school in the fall and-"

"They're going to Hogwarts?!" George nearly jumped out of his chair with excitement, "Oh, that's great news! Simply marvelous!"

"Well...it's about these Gallons things…" Clara said nervously. She hated talking about money, but she had no idea how wizarding money worked.

"Oh! You must mean Galleons!" George chuckled, "Well, I imagine you probably are still pretty confused, being a Muggle and an American Muggle at that! That will not be a problem at all. Any and all needs for you and your sons will be covered. No questions asked. Well...unless you're looking to visit the Goblin Casino over on the other side of the Alley, because I've got some enemies there."

"Goblins?" Clara replied uncertainly. She was honestly unsure as to whether or not he was actually joking.

"Let's not worry about that for now," George replied, waving his hand, "What I want to know is how you met my brother. And exactly how long you two, well, how long it took to get to...this."

Clara blushed at the insinuation, but did her best to tell George the sordid story. It was only when she got to the part with the glowing fox that he interrupted her briefly and told her that was a way he'd sent messages to his brother during the war. Somehow that seemed to legitimize her story in a way that simply seeing her sons hadn't done, and he talked with earnest about his brother when she asked him, telling her all manner of things that she suspected he probably had not even shared with his other siblings.

They were interrupted by a loud bang as the door flew open and a woman's voice rang out loudly.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" she shouted, "I MUST SEE THEM!"

Clara rushed to the balcony and looked down to see an older woman with shockingly red hair (though a number of gray strands ran through at her temples) standing in the open doorway to the shop. Her sons had ducked down behind two large barrels of Toadwart Tasties and had matching expressions of alarm on their faces.

"Who is that?" she dared to ask George.

"Oh, just my mother," he replied, rolling his eyes, "She has a thing for loud, theatrical entrances, you see. It's a hereditary affliction."

"I can see that," she said, hiding her laugh behind one hand.

The woman seemed to have heard them and looked up, pointing a well-manicured finger at them.

"YOU!" she said loudly, "Are you their mother?!"

"Um….yes?" Clara said, leaning backwards from the sound of the woman's booming voice.

The woman approached the stairs at a disturbingly fast pace and Clara found herself wondering what she should call this person. Mother in law? Lady? Mrs...W? She cursed inwardly. What a time to forget Fred's surname!

And then the woman was at the top of the stairs, her large chest heaving as she recovered from the quick ascent. Clara could see where Fred had gotten his interest in top-heavy women.

In a moment, the woman had closed the gap between the two of them and the look on her face was so fierce that Clara was terrified that she was about to be slapped or even punched but then….the woman had wrapped her arms around Clara in such a fierce hug that the air was crushed from her lungs and she could feel her eyes practically popping out of her skull.

And Clara was left feeling utterly awkward as this woman, whose name she didn't even know, began sobbing loudly into her shoulder.

"Merlin preserve us!" she blubbered loudly, "It's a miracle!"

"Mum, please stop or you're going to drown the poor woman before she gets a word in edgewise," George said, unimpressed.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," the woman sniffed, drawing back and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her cloak, "I'm Molly Weasley, I am Fred's mother."

"I'm Clara. Clara Summers," Clara replied, "And, um, I'm their mother."

She pointed and Molly turned around to see the two boys peeking over the railing of the stairway on the upper floor landing.

"That's Rick, short for Frederick, and that's Ryan," she said, and the two boys stood up straighter as they were indicated.

"It is lovely to meet all of you!" Molly said, clasping her hands together, "I know we've only just met, but I hope to see more of you now that we know about you!"

"Who-OW!-are you?" Rick said, as Ryan elbowed him in the ribs.

"She's obviously our paternal grandmother," Ryan said smugly, "I'm correct, right?"

"Indeed you are!" she replied with a huge grin as she wiped a tear from her cheek, "They're smart boys, Clara. Just like Fred and George were when they were little. Do they give you trouble?"

"You mean, do they pull pranks like dying the class rabbit a bright shade of fuschia, yet somehow escaping detention?" Clara asked.

George's face lit up at that.

"No kidding?" he asked eagerly as the boys looked strangely proud of themselves.

"Oh you! Don't you encourage them!" Molly scolded, but her expression wasn't angry, "I'm sorry, I can't even bring myself to scowl now that I know...about all of you."

The door banged open again and a man with thinning red hair and a more sensible moustache rushed inside.

"Molly, I was just talking with Melvin about-oh!" he said as he saw everyone standing up on the second floor landing, "Did I miss anything?"

"Only meeting your grandsons, Arthur Weasley!" Molly said, swooping down the stairs with one of the two boys under each arm and Clara and George following reluctantly behind, "Meet Ryan and Rick, come from America to attend Hogwarts in the fall!"

"Good to meet you both!" Arthur said affably, "Ron's patronus mentioned you were planning on sticking around and...good lord, those clothes, were you raised muggle? In America? I have so much to ask you...that is, if you don't mind."

"Oh no you don't!" Molly chided, "I'm not going to let you hog them with silly questions about rubber ducks and aeroplanes!"

Arthur's face fell a little and he frowned, "I'll have you know that I learnt about those things ages ago! But I wouldn't mind learning about this world wide web thing that everyone's been going on about. Does it involve very large spiders or do you use some sort of synthetic spider silk for your webs?"

Rick snorted and got another elbow to the ribs from his brother.

Just then, the door banged open and a flood of red-haired people, people who were obviously their spouses and children of a variety of different ages began to stream through the doors.

"What's all this about, Fred?" a woman with impressively bushy brown hair said excitedly.

"Calm down, everyone! If you will humor me, I can explain!" a familiar voice said, and everyone turned to see George step out from behind the curtain with a painting in his arms.

"Fred!" Clara said, somewhat embarrassed at how happy she sounded to see a mere shadow of the man who was long dead.

"C'mon everyone! Give the painting some silence!" a man with dark, messy (yet somehow undeniably perfect) hair and rounded glasses shouted loudly.

"Hear hear!" shouted Ron, as the murmurs died down.

"I'd like to tell you all that this was the greatest prank I've ever pulled off, well, excepting perhaps the magical swamp we put up to give ol' Umbridge a conniption in our Sixth year. Judging from your grins, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny- yes, I saw you hiding back there all ready to pop any day, Ginevra!-I can tell that it was a roaring success."

George snorted. "Obviously!"

"I heard from Neville that the swamp sometimes flares up when Ministry officials visit," Hermione said with a grin.

"Wicked," George and Fred's portraits said simultaneously.

"ANYWAY," Fred said loudly, "So while I'd love to claim that I planned this all along, the truth is, I was just as surprised when I met them all this morning. This is Clara. She has done the hardest thing I can imagine anyone has ever had to do- raise two twin boys on her own who are also directly related to me."

At this, there were a number of snorts and titters from the assembled group. Clara felt her face go red, but a part of her felt utterly elated. After almost twelve years without any support beyond a handful of friends, she suddenly had this….family.

It was overwhelming.

"So I'd like to formally introduce my...well..ok, to be fair, the real Fred's, who couldn't be here today because I'm far more photogenic for obvious reasons, sons, Ryan and Rick Summers," Fred held out a hand and gestured to the two boys, who were still being held in a one-armed hug by their grandmother.

A great round of applause filled the room and people were hooting and hollering so loudly that the noise was nearly deafening. Clara found herself surrounded by new faces all talking at once and she began to feel a bit light-headed at all of the chatter. She remembered shaking a lot of hands and hearing (and immediately forgetting) at least twenty different names.

By the time everything had calmed down and people left (though not after a number of invitations to future breakfasts, teas, lunches and dinners), Clara finally noticed Minerva standing outside the picture window waving primly to get her attention.

"I haven't forgotten, you know," George said, coming up behind her and placing a large silk drawstring bag in her hand.

It was heavy, and Clara had an idea of what was inside.

"Surely this is far too much!" she gasped as she looked inside. Both Rick and Ryan's eyes went just as wide as they looked at the amount of golden coins within.

"Clara, you've given me the next best thing to seeing Fred, the real Fred, alive once more," George said quietly as the boys took one look at the sadness on their uncle's face and made themselves scarce.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she replied uncertainly.

"Your sons remind me so much of Fred and me," George said, his mouth twisting up in a ghost of a wicked grin that now looked more tired than anything, "He was always the sentimental one, though you'd never know it to look at him. Seeing them together just makes me ache, but in a good way, you know? Even after all of these years running a successful business, there will always be a hole in my heart where my brother used to be. He was my other half in a way that even my beloved wife Angelina, could never be."

"I'm so sorry that you lost him," Clara said, placing a hand on his shoulder softly, "I knew him for only one night and...well, as Fred himself said, 'sometimes you just know.'"

George made a small noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment, Clara was afraid that he was about to start sobbing. But when he looked up at her, he was smiling.

"See?" he said, "I told you. Total sentimental fool if ever I saw one."

The door opened gingerly, and a tiny sound like firecrackers popping emanated from the enchanted door.

"I hate to be a bother," Minerva said through a crack in the door, "But Ollivanders will be closing in about half an hour, and it can take some time for the wand to choose the wielder. Since you have two, I figured it might be best to be on our way with haste."

"Still adhering to your boycott of our esteemed shop," George said loudly, his smirk widening.

"Hmph!" Minerva replied with an icy expression, "One can only take so many affronts to one's dignity before realizing that certain places are best left untraveled."

"Clara," George said suddenly, and as she turned to look at him he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Please, you are always welcome here or at the Burrow. My family and I live in the space above the shop, and there are extra rooms if you ever need to stay. And my Mum, well, she has plenty of extra space to spare ever since her children have moved out. Of course, there are always grandchildren spending the night, so it can be a pretty hectic place."

"Hectic can be good," Clara replied with a smile, "I was getting tired of the silence anyway. Usually means that someone's up to no good."

George chuckled, "You're going to get along famously with Mum. I can tell that already!"

"Come along, boys! You do want to get your wands today, don't you?" Minerva was calling to the boys, who had filled their pockets with a number of things that Clara was not looking forward to discovering first hand.

She said her goodbyes to George and Ron, who'd finished restocking products in the back and joined them in the front of the shop.

"I'm really, really glad that you decided to come here," George said as Clara stepped out the door, "It's like the feeling I used to get on Christmas morning. I just...I have a feeling I can't quite convey in words...and...maybe..."

He pulled out his wand and swished it around in a wide arc, pointing it at the sky through the open door.

"Expecto Patronum!" he said in a rich, clear tone that was just a little more gruff and guttural than Fred's smooth voice, but was so achingly similar that for a moment, she almost forgot that Fred was well and truly gone forever.

A thick, silver mist erupted from the tip of the wand, and the two boys stared with excitement as it poured and swirled and coalesced together into the form of a gorgeous silver fox that stood up on its haunches, sniffing the air for a moment before it took off running with its head pointed ever skyward. All who watched it were filled with an ethereal joy beyond words.

And even though there was still so much to plan for and to learn about the Wizarding World and her new, chaotic family, and Clara knew that it was far from over, a great weight seemed to have been lifted from everyone's shoulders as they watched the tiny vulpine form gambol in the sky until it had disappeared above the clouds.

The End

Author's Note: Thank you for reading my most recent story! I just wanted to say that I read and appreciate all of your reviews! Fred and George are a bit hard to write. It's quite difficult to strike a balance between their humor and their ability to really tell it like it is (even if it's a bit harsh).