The Epilogue

What happens beyond the stories that we know and love? What happens to our favourite characters when the last page is turned?

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2. Harry Potter

George Weasley

 

George stared at himself in the mirror. All he could see was Fred's face staring back at him. He was, in a way, happy because it meant that he could still see the face of his long lost brother in his own; but it hurt him more than anything. It hurt that the only way to see Fred was through his own reflection in a mirror. He couldn't ever see him in person, couldn't help him with a new supply for their joke shop, couldn't see him getting married and going off with someone else.

Yesterday, he had taken his first trip to a muggle supermarket. It was a very strange place, full of things that beeped at him and made whirring sounds without any use of magic. Of course, they still had to eat, but heaven only knows where his mother bought all the food that they ate. To George, it just appeared at his convenience whenever he was hungry, without any thought of where his mother had acquired it from. But his trip to the supermarket was not for food, or the funny "fizzy" drinks that muggles had, or to investigate the strange lack of pumpkin juice and chocolate frogs on their shelves. His trip was for hair dye. He had headed into the muggle parts of London a few weeks following the Battle of Hogwarts, as he and Fred had always planned on going there together, to see if the muggles offered any inspiration for new products in their joke shop. During his lone adventure to London, he had come across a hair salon, displaying (non-moving, very strange) pictures of men and women with outrageous hair colour, including blues and greens. He had spoken to one of the ladies inside, who seem very perplexed at a 21 year-old male asking about hair products, clearly showing that he had no idea about anything to do with it. Anyhow, she had explained about hair dye being a way to change your hair colour to something outside of its natural colour. This idea was very attractive to him, and that was what his trip to the supermarket produced - a box of bright green hair dye.

****

  "George Weasley!" His mother shouted at him from across the dining table, as she stared at him in shock. "What in the name of Quidditch have you done to your hair?!"

  "I just changed the colour, mum, don't worry, loads of people do it." George replied, brushing a piece of the newly dyed hair out of his eyes.

  "I can't believe you!" Molly shouted, using her wand to get a saucepan out the cupboard and slam it on the stove. "I am very disappointed in you! How dare you do this to me? I-"

  "Do this to you?" George interrupted, staring at her. "What makes you think I just dyed my hair to upset you?"

  "Then what on earth did you do it for?" Molly exploded, throwing a load of pasta in the saucepan in anger.

George remained silent, staring down at the cracked stone tiles on the floor.

  "Well?" Molly said impatiently, turning away from the pasta to place her hands on her hips. "No, wait, we will see what your father says when he comes home."

  "Sure," George mumbled.

 

George had been staring at the same grain of wood for a very long time when his father came through the door and threw his bag and coat on the hooks. He sighed, grabbed the newspaper off the worktop and slumped into one of the dining chairs. Molly was upstairs at that moment, so was not aware of her husband sitting at the table.

  "...I hope you and the children are well. Sincerely, Molly Weasley. Right that will do, thank you." Molly came down the stairs, muttering to a piece of paper and envelope floating by her side.

  "Hello Molly dear," Arthur said, barely looking up from his newspaper.

  "Ah Arthur!" Molly exclaimed, noticing her husband sitting at the table. She folded the letter into the envelope, passed it to their owl, Pickett, then turned to face the two men. "Have you seen what George has done to his hair?"

  "I have." Mr Weasley said, still not looking up from the paper.

  "And what do you say?"

  "I say it looks fine and he can do what he..." He trailed off, noticing his wife's expression. "Uh-hum, I am very surprised, and... disappointed that he has gone for such a radical colour."

  "Good! That's exactly what I said!"

  "Mum.." George mumbled, "I'm twenty-one, I think I should be able to do what I like with my own hair and body."

Molly Weasley folded her arms, the anger still pouring out of her, but she remained silent.

George stood up from the table and turned to leave. "Besides," he said, "I kept thinking that it was him in the mirror."

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