(Still Five Years Ago...)

  Saturday, September 5th, 2009. 3:30 PM.

  Diagon Alley, City of Westminster, London, UK

  The conversations ceased as they approached Number 93 Diagon Alley. It wasn’t because they had run out of things to talk about. It was just impossible to ignore the storefront of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Once they had crossed the line between the neighboring store and George and Ron’s business, their senses were under assault. Flashing lights, percussive sounds, things appearing and disappearing at a manic rate. Out of sheer self-defense, they ran on inside.

  While Dudley worked his jaw in a forced yawn, trying to get his ears to pop, Harry told him about a mass uprising that had occurred early on. All the other shopkeepers of Diagon Alley had confronted the Weasleys, demanding that they find some way of keeping their mayhem to themselves. There weren't actually pitchforks and burning torches, but it was a near-run thing. It had cost the brothers a pretty Knut to develop the Charms that limited the chaos to their section and side of the street.

  “Money well-spent!” George had walked up on the tail-end of Harry’s story. “We’ve made it back hundreds of times over, selling the spells!”

  “How do you sell spells?” Emily asked. “And who do you sell them to?”

  “Easy as pie,” said George, turning toward her with the usual twinkle in his eye. “Only our own trained staff know how to do the spells, non-verbal, of course. And the spells have a built-in Obliviate function, so they can’t be told or sold to anyone else. As for who buys them, there’s all sorts. Construction wizards who don’t want to irritate the neighbors, for one, or hiding things from Muggles without going the full Secret Keeper, Unplottable, Stay Away Charm route. We even had one old sport who had us cast it on his obnoxious brother-in-law. It lets him get through family dinners without having to hex the berk two or three times. He gets hexed himself every now and then for ignoring the idiot, but says it’s worth it.”

  Harry looked at Dudley, who had obviously gotten the gist, even if a good number of the words meant squat to him. He spoke to George, who had obviously not taken a good look at Harry’s companion.

  “Say, George, got somebody I want you to meet. Actually, re-meet...”

  Seeing George rendered speechless for once was well worth the price of admission, Harry decided.

  “Is.., is it Dudley, then? My word, it is!” He looked from Dudley to Harry, obviously caught off kilter. But the familiar evil grin appeared. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of you over the years, mate! Dined out on the story, no offense.” George extended his hand, and Dudley reached to take it.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I hope there’s no hard fee-EE-YAH-AH-OW!!!” George started dancing in place, shaking his free hand, got his feet tangled in his magenta-coloured robe, and fell sideways into a display table. Brightly printed boxes cascaded over him. Dudley let him go as he fell. He glanced over, grinning at Harry’s look of surprise, then looked back at George, lying stunned on the floor.

  “Nah, mate,” Dudley said. “No hard feelings at all.” He opened his huge hand and wiggled the fingers at George. Ringed to the inside of his middle finger was a small chrome-plated box.

  Lily and Ginny started pealing with laughter. Emily was giggling behind her hand. Out of nowhere, Iris, James and Al appeared. James was jumping in place, pointing at his uncle, speechless with mirth.

  “Your... face!” Harry spluttered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you caught that flat-footed!”

  George shook his head, coughed, choked, snorted, and then started laughing himself. Big, gasping belly laughs racked his slender frame. “Good on you, mate! Good on you! I’d say I had that coming!”

  He wiped his streaming eyes. Dudley reached to help him up. George automatically responded, then jerked his hand back.

  “Ah, ah, ah! Fool me once...”

  Dudley gave a satisfied grunt, and offered his other hand, after opening and showing it empty. George came up like a Jack-in-the-Box. He patted down his robes, then reflexively smoothed his long hair back to cover his missing ear. Harry repressed his automatic twinge of guilt at seeing the almost unconscious action.

  “That’s a..., joy buzzer, right?” said George. “I’ve seen them before, in Muggle joke shops, but that one has a certain, ah, authority to it...”

  “Top of the line,” Dudley said proudly. “Buzzer, spinner AND a right good battery-powered electric shock. Iris found it for me on the Internet.”

  George grinned at the little blond girl. “Right, so I owe you for this, then, eh, miss?” To Dudley, “Is there a shop around that sells them? I’d love to get one for my Dad.”

  “Get one to USE on Dad, more like,” said Ginny. George grinned at his sister.

  “Well, yeah, of course, but I would give it him after! And the fact that it has a batt-ry, er, battery would just make it better to him.”

  “Take this one,” said Dudley. He shrugged at George’s ‘Are you certain?’ look. “Hey, it’s done what I wanted it for. ‘Sides, it doesn’t do for a big guy like me to go around doing stuff like that all the time.” He smiled fondly over at his wife. “Comes across as bullying, I’m told.”

  George raised an eyebrow at Harry, who just widened his eyes in amazed agreement. “Well, come on then, let’s show you around. The lads said you’d be along in a bit. You’ll need a pocket full of Galleons to pay for everything they say they want!”

  “What they want, and what they are going to get do not have a lot in common,” said Ginny severely, looking at her two.

  “Yes, Mum,” said the boys and their uncle, in perfect syncopation. Ginny made a face at George.