Yet Another Reason

"Mummy! I want one!" the little girl wailed, straining desperately against the firm grip her mother had on her hand. Tears welled up in her eyes and her cheeks were quickly turning a bright shade of red. The little red boots she wore were scraping against the tiled floor as the woman pulled her along, and he suddenly recalled how Ginny used to own a pair quite like that.

George felt sorry for the mum; she was clearly exhausted with a very obvious bump protruding from her stomach. He'd also heard the distinct gears turning in her head as she calculated the prices of what the little girl wanted, and then the excuse she'd made (something that didn't involve the words poor or broke) as to why they couldn't buy the toy.

"Willow," the mum sighed, finally stopping and rubbing a shaky hand over her eyes. Her mouth was pinched tight, and anyone could see how on edge she was to blowing a gasket… everyone, it seemed, except for her daughter. His heart went out to them, and before he could really calculate what he was doing, George was walking straight for the pair with firm determination set in every step—he knew what he should do for the couple, regardless of what Fred would say (although he was pretty certain Fred would have done the same thing).

As he approached them, the woman looked up tiredly, and then appeared embarrassed. "I'm sorry, sir," she rushed to acquiesce him, "We were just leaving, I promise." George offered her a patient smile and she sank back to her heels, a relieved breath caught between her teeth—she had probably been sent one too many nasty stares, as any mother was prone to get.

"It's no problem. I can understand the feeling of not being able to get something you really want," he nodded, winking at the little girl conspiratorially. She eyed him suspiciously, but at least he'd gotten her to stop sniffling.

The woman smiled at him, a thankful glint in her eyes. He straightened and gestured widely to the shop, "If you have any spare time, maybe I could take you and your mother to the back. We have a new toy that's being released soon. I could give one to you for free—you can test it out," he proposed seriously. He wanted the child to think that she was being given a very important job, not only for his and the mother's sake, but because technically, she was.

They usually made products for those teen-age and up, but they knew they had to expand their range of customers—the more types of good, the more money they'd make. And after living all their lives scraping money out of the dirt, Fred and George were quite adamant that they make as much money as possible.

As the three made their way to the stockroom, George caught Fred's eye and grinned wildly, nodding his head to indicate he had the situation taken care of; Fred only smirked back and sauntered off, probably to reel a random customer into getting one prank too many.

George pushed the double doors open and glanced around to make sure no one else was in there. Rules had been set so no non-employees could go back there—Fred and George had every right to break their own rules, but George thought it probably didn't send a very inspiring message to all their workers.

Willow was clutching at her mother's hand and looking around with wide eyes. Even the mum, George noted smugly, had an air of awe about her. Their work tended to do that to people.

The stockroom was full of products and potions, all brightly covered and emitting various noises and smells. Random fireworks would occasionally explode, harmlessly raining down sparks on the three of them. Willow was nearly buzzing with delight, which George hoped was a good sign.

They tried to make people as cheerful as possible, but it was difficult with a war going on. Even the children were silent and solemn, told to hush up and make as less noise as possible. Seeing a little girl smile was smoothing he hadn't seen in much too long.

Finally coming to the end of the long hallway, George clapped his hands excitedly and reached into his pocket to extract a key, which was golden and very small. Willow watched in fascination as the twin opened a drawer and slowly pulled out a smaller looking toy.

It was a cube about the size of Willow's fist, gold in color but with small pictures on each side. George smiled softly as the child's face lit up and made grabby hands at it. He bent down to her level and held it out, watching in amusement as she gently lifted it from his palm and began inspecting every part of it.

"What're the pictures for?" she finally mumbled curiously. George beamed and pried her fingers off the cube so it was lying flat on her palm. A little picture of a badger was facing them, and he softly encouraged her to stroke it. She glanced at him, a bit unsure, before doing as he asking. Almost immediately, Willow shrieked with delight and pulled the toy to her chest, staring in awe as a wispy sort of badger appeared in front of her, twisting and turning. She reached out to pet it and it skittered away, clearly aware of her existence.

Losing all pretences, Willow laughed and began tiptoeing along to catch the fluid animal. He caught eyes with her mum and winked, conveying that it was no problem to give away a toy or two, especially to as sweet a girl as Willow.

"Thank you," she murmured, moving to stand next to him.

"No problem," he grinned, "I didn't catch your name, by the way?" he added, not only for the sake of being polite but because he was also curious.

"Lydia," she blushed, tucking a strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. "She's going to be eleven quite soon and is already begging me to get her school things," she laughed. George nodded thoughtfully, gesturing to the playing girl.

"She's quite sweet," he noted. Lydia shrugged, but perked up at the compliment to her child.

"I suppose—but you've never seen her at bedtime, either," she teased. They chuckled (George even playfully bumped her hip, happy to see a true smile spread across her lips) before a more thoughtful look settled her features. "You know," she began, "I just don't know how you can come up with genius things like that," she indicated the golden cube.

"Well," George shrugged, "Fred usually comes up with the rough outline. I 'spose he's the more creative one… I, however," he beamed, "am the one who figures out the real mechanics of each invention. How the magic works, you know?" he prodded. Lydia nodded to show she was listening, although her eyes were still riveted to her daughter, intent on seeing Willow so happy when, usually, she was anything but.

"We know it would be a cube, and we figured that the four Hogwarts House animals could be on four of the side—snake, badger, lion, and eagle—and then we figured an owl and a cat would be two other good additions. It took a while to figure out how to bring to life, let me tell you," George grimaced.

"How does it work?" Lydia asked inquisitively, causing him to bark out a laugh.

"Well, can't go telling all of my secrets now, can I?" he winked devilishly. "Although, I will tell you it has something to do with a Patronus." Her eyes widened exponentially.

"Oh my goodness—you, you must be a brilliant wizard, if you can pull of a Patronus!" she exclaimed, a hand coming to grip at her chest. He chuckled at her shock, choosing not to mention that Harry Potter had taught a bunch of schoolchildren as young as twelve years old how to produce a Patronus within one year (or at least a little bit of one, in the case of the youngest Creevey brother).

Anyhow, it hadn't been too hard for Fred and him to cast the Patronus on the cubes. That wasn't even the biggest spell that went into making it. The process called for 4 ounces of crushed root—a Patronus with a binding spell cast on it—to be placed in the center of the cube, then it had to be programmed to recognize which side represented each animal, which caused the Patronus magic to shift forms.

They'd rigged it so the magic from a witch or wizard would have to set it off, in order to ward off any unsuspecting Muggles. Really, George had to hand it both Fred and himself. He never would have thought of it in the first place, but Fred probably couldn't have thought out how to actually get the idea off the ground. Smiling fondly, he wondered—not for the first time—what he'd do without his twin.

Next to him, Lydia was still staring at her daughter, eyes glazed over and a sweet blush spreading across her cheeks. He shifted slightly, hoping selfishly she wouldn't start crying. He was in such a good mood, and he hated tears, even of the happy variety.

"Well, I can let you two out then, if you want," he offered kindly. She blinked several times, glancing around as if she'd momentarily forgotten where she was, and then nodded at him gratefully. Willow came skipping up to them, cradling her new toy carefully as the badger disappeared with a twist.

"I can't thank you enough, really," she said eagerly, taking her daughter's hand again as George gathers a bag for them—there are way too many bums on the street, and some of them might be desperate enough to steal from a little girl. He doesn't want to take any chances.

"Really, it's no problem," he smiled, glancing down at Willow who was still glowing with joy. A child like her… she shouldn't have to get a free toy just to smile like. She shouldn't have to walk the streets in fear, or have her pregnant mother so scared they could barely leave her house.

"No problem at all," he repeated, heart hardening at the thought of war effecting this sweet family and realizing that he had just gained yet another reason to fight.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, Business Studies Assessment 2, over at the Harry Potter FanFiction Challenges Forum.

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