𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐗𝐈

"Pilosus Figulus."

"Sorry dear, only Gryffindors are allowed in."

"But I am a Gryffindor!"

"You're what they call an 'eighth year', lovey. You have your own common room, no need to use this one," the Fat Lady said as I stood, begging for her to let me in.

"It's urgent!"

"I'm sure."

"Let me in."

"No."

"But I gave you the password!" I persisted.

"Yes, yes. How did you get it?"

"It–it doesn't matter how I got it. Open your damn self and let me through."

"I willn't," she smirked.

"I'm Harry bleeding Potter! I died for your ass and everyone else's in there!"

Just as the words left my mouth, I saw a Gryffindor first year skipping up the stairs towards the portrait.

I stood, a triumphant smirk on my face, as he said the password. The Fat Lady had no choice but to let him through, and I followed close behind, almost pressed up against the boy.

Inside, everything looked just as it did when I lived there. The blazing fire where Sirius' head came through, the squashy armchairs Hermione and I did our homework on, the chessboard Ron and I spent so many hours hunched over.

The only difference was the carefully painted portraits hung by the staircases to the dorms. Fred, Colin Creevey, and a couple of sixth years who's names I didn't know. They seemed to smile at me, stuck in their loops. Fred ushered me over.

"Well, if it isn't Roonil Wazlib! Nice to see ya, Harry!" He said, cheerful as ever. "Took you long enough though."

I was speechless. The last thing Fred ever said was a joke, and now here he was, joking around again, looking as alive as if he were really standing in front of me.

"Fred... Ho–How are you... moving around?" I stuttered.

He chuckled a little, wearing a playful smirk, "I don't know, how do you do it?" When I didn't answer, he said less cheerily, "George. He spoke to my portrait for me."

When I thought I could speak again, I uttered, "So, it's not you talking, it's George?"

"Not necessarily," he smiled sadly, "Georgie knew me better than anyone. I can't be that hard to act out, can I?"

Oh, I thought I said aloud, but now that I think about, I might have only said it in my head.

Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to get away from Fred. Something inside of me felt sick talking to a dead person. I remembered the reason I went in there in the first place.

"Ginny," I said hurriedly. "I need to find Ginny."

I heard Fred call after me as I hurried away from him. I found Ginny in a small corner near the fireplace doing her homework.

Maybe it was the rage at her for hurting someone, maybe it was the thought of Fred talking, maybe it was the bile rising in my throat, but I don't completely remember why I thought it was a good idea to point my wand at my ex-girlfriend.