Marooned - Fred Weasley

Chapter 73: Godric's Hollow

My loves, I apologize, I forgot to update yesterday, here's another long chapter. You told me you loved them, so I delivered.

_

As hopeful and bright the day before Ron and Harry's fight was, the next days were just as grim and sad. Fred and George were angry and worried, they didn't bother talking much more than necessary, especially since they spent that day looking for another place to set up camp. Thankfully, they would Apparate, now.

After about five days, the tension scale dimmed again, not by much, but enough to make Hermione not cry for the day. Only at night.

Harry had been talking about going to Godric's Hollow, which sent Sarah in thought, it would be the first time since that night she would set foot there and see her parents' graves. Some part of her didn't want to go, thinking it would break some myth around it, around them and she didn't want it to happen. It was the third night she spent outside, scouring the manuscript of A Centuries Old Story, intrigued by it and not understanding what it is Dumbledore was trying to tell her. Or if he was trying to tell her.

She saw a familiar shape approach her, it was pitch black, though, she just made up the broad shoulders. She thought it was Fred at first but when the figure took another step forward, the tip of her wand showed it was actually George.

"Wrong twin, I know," he joked, setting his hands in his pockets to warm them up.

She smiled softly, lifted her wand so they could see each other better. "Don't be stupid. Got bored by the tent's canvas?"

"Yeah. Also, Selena is snoring in my good ear, I wouldn't want to lose it, since it's my last," he pointed at his head covered with a beanie and sat down next to her, "What are you reading?"

He gestured at her manuscript with a head tilt and brought his knees next to his chest. "Bloody hell, it's cold. Aren't you freezing?"

"I have enough jumpers on me, it's fine. I'm reading the book or more like the story, actually. What Dumbledore left me," she handed him the papers, making a light crackling sound, they were incredibly old, she had to handle them with care.

He took the stack of papers and ruffled through them, "It's weirdly written."

"I know," she nodded at him, "Look at this word, 'zwodder' it means being tired, or a bit drowsy. It's an old english word, used rarely centuries ago, now it seems nonexistent. But right in the next sentence there's this, a common misconception from our time about the color of bronze, which should be brownish red, but it's described as yellowish. That should be brass. It's weird, like timelines are all crossed in this book. If it was written at a time people spoke in Old English and still used words like that one, that mistake with brass and bronze wouldn't have been made because it was only copper then. The other two were mostly developed in the later centuries."

"You have a strangely broad knowledge of metals," he joked, getting her to smile a little. "Maybe it's on purpose."

"What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore gave it to you for a reason, maybe it's something to do with that," he reasoned. "It's funny, it's like a time traveler wrote it, you know. Someone who's been around enough to know all these words."

When he saw her raise a quizzical brow at him, he rolled his eyes, "Or someone who reads a lot, like you. But I will definitely use zwodder from now on. It sounds wicked."

"Glad it contributed to something," she chuckled, George handed her the story back and she spent a few seconds playing with the corner of one of the pages.

"You know we're going to Godric's Hollow tomorrow," she told him warily.

"Yeah," he pondered, "You alright with that?"