Still Telling the Story…
By Christine
A sequel to “Time Told” by Ashley
Disclaimer: Maddie and Norax belong to Ashley. All
else belongs to J.K. Rowling, the supremest of them
all. Sorry Ashley!
The family gathered around the decorated coffin, each
throwing a flower as it was lowered into the ground.
One, two, three…Six in all.
“A young boy, deprived of his hopes and dreams. Taken
away from his family, friends, and future at such a
young age, and in such a brutal manner. Rest in
peace, George Weasley, rest in peace.” As the
minister closed the small black book in his hand, an
observant person would’ve noticed the small tear
forming in the corner of his left eye. But no one
noticed. They were all absorbed in their grief and
pain. As a group, they turned away from the grave to
head for the Burrow. The family left first, holding
hands, followed by friends.
The mood at the Burrow was somber. No one knew quite
what to say. What do you say to the parents of a
brutally murdered seventeen year old, stabbed to death
by an evil sorcerer? I can’t imagine much. Although
the quiet air was deafening, there was also a
deafening joy coming from viewers of the scene. A
small screen had been set up, and a man and a young
girl were watching the reception commence with glee.
“The sorrow of the family is quite,” he paused for a
moment, “beautiful, don’t you agree dear girl?”
Maddie turned toward Norax.
“Gorgeous, in fact,” she agreed. Then she leaned over
the desk and whispered into his ear, “And we couldn’t
have done it without you.”
“No Maddie darling, without you, none of this would
have occurred. We have you to thank.” With this he
grasped her head roughly, and kissed her with a force
that could bruise. A kiss so hard, and filled with
such desire, Maddie felt blood trickling on her lips.
She didn’t fight him, but just relented to his grasp.
Suddenly, she pulled away from him.
“Let’s not lose our concentration,” she shook her
finger at him.
“But of course,” he said, returning his attention back
to the small screen as Mrs. Weasley’s cries were
heard. “I do believe that is our cue. Shall we?” he
asked, reaching out his large hand for Maddie’s small
one.
“We shall.” They stood together, hand in hand. He,
with the looks of an evil villain, and she, looking
almost as sweet and innocent as the day she’d boarded
the Hogwarts Express. But if you had been there that
first day, and saw her now, you’d see the change in
her eyes.
*
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat on the couch in their living
room, surrounded by family and friends, comforted
nonetheless. Mrs. Granger brought Mrs. Weasley a mug
of strong tea, which she took gratefully. She raised
the glass to her lips, but momentarily, it was
scattered in broken pieces on the floor. Madison
Wells had just entered her front door, looking tired
and disheveled. The girl had been too grief-stricken
to attend any of the services for George, and this was
the first time since the murder that Mrs. Weasley had
seen her.
“Darling, darling,” she called out to her, holding out
her arms. Maddie rushed forward, tears rushing down
her cheeks. Mrs. Weasley tried to run her hands
through her hair, but it was all matted and knotted.
She settled with rubbing her back.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” she gasped between
hiccups. “I know he would have wanted me there, but I
just couldn’t, it was so hard…Oh! What do I do know?”
“Shh, sweetheart, there’s nothing to be sorry about,”
she said soothingly.
“Really?” the girl asked, peering up at her from her
knees.
“Really.”
“Really,” she repeated. “You know, you’re right.
There is nothing to be sorry about. Why should I be?”
she had risen to her feet and was pacing the length of
the couch.
“All right, sweetheart, you’re hysterical, I
understand though. I truly do.”
“DO YOU?” she screeched. “I don’t think you do. I
don’t think you understand it at all!” Maddie’s hands
were on the woman’s knees and she was searching her
eyes for the answer.
“I know, I do understand. I know that you were there,
you saw him die so tragically…” she trailed off, her
voice failing her.
“Tragically?” she spat, “Ha. That’s a laugh. He was
miserable, squirming, and he put up a fight. But it
felt so right to have his blood on my hands.”
“What…Maddie?…What are you talking about?”
“Oh come off it woman! You know exactly what I’m
talking about! I killed George Weasley! Yes, it was
me! Do you understand that?” The entire group was
quiet, listening to Maddie’s every word. “That stupid
boy, always in my way. He almost wasn’t worth the
tears I faked, not worth the ruined shirt. But being
with him…that’s worth anything.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all sitting together, were
disbelieving. They stood as one, and took a step
towards their friend. “Stop.” Maddie commanded
without turning around. “Don’t comfort me, or tell me
I’m hysterical, or that I’m upset, or confused, or
wrong! I’m not wrong! I killed George Weasley. And
all in the name of Norax, Norax, NORAX!” There was a
swirling wind that seemed to shake the whole house.
When everyone had regained their composure, they
turned back to the young girl they had called their
friend, but she was gone. In her place, branded on
the rug was a small black spiral, spinning, and
spinning, and spinning.
*
They sat for hours, just the three of them, staring at
the spiral, burned into the rug forever. After her
departure, and the immediate shock had worn off, Mrs.
Weasley had sat scrubbing the spot, determined to get
it out of her rug, but it was to no avail. She had
just ended up collapsing into the floor and crying,
once again.
Hermione was the first to move as the sun began to set
in the horizon. “I should say goodbye to my parents.
Their flight leaves at six. They’ll be leaving any
minute now.” There was no response, but the nod from
Harry. Hermione leaned over to Ron and kissed him
lightly on the cheek, looking concerned. “Well, I’ll
be right back.”
The moment she had left, Ron let out a sigh that
sounded as if he’d been holding his breath forever.
He turned to his best friend with a tear trickling
down his cheek. “Harry,” he shuddered, “What do I do?
What do I do? He’s gone, gone.” The tear was soon
followed by another and another. Harry was unsure of
what to say, but just put his arm around Ron’s
shoulder.
“Why us? Why is it always us?” he whispered quietly,
to no one in particular.
“I don’t know, but is it ever going to stop? Ever?”
“I pray to God that it will. And soon.” Hermione was
walking back over, and seeing the tears on Ron’s face,
she knelt at his feet.
“Sweetheart…” The word set off a new wave of tears.
Hermione grabbed Ron’s hands and kissed them, then
kissed his face, nose, ears, and his lips. “I love
you…I’m so sorry for all that’s happened…words can’t
express it enough.” She threw her arms around his
waist, hugging him awkwardly from the floor.
Gradually, his shaking shoulders subsided, and his
eyes were dry.
“Thank you,” he said to his two best friends, slightly
embarrassed. The nodded their heads, knowing how he
was feeling.
*
Outside, it was perfectly cool. The sun was just
setting, but the stars had already sprung up in the
milky sky. Fireflies danced around the garden, and
all seemed perfect. There was one tiny thing that
stuck out, a brilliant redhead. A boy, about
seventeen, sitting alone, for he felt more alone than
any person in the world ever has. He was a twin. He
had been a twin. Had formally been a twin. Because
now, his twin was gone. Taken from this world
onto…wherever souls go. The desolation in this boy’s
heart was evident on his face, and just peering into
his cold, dead eyes made you want to cry. This boy
was dying on the inside, because he felt so absolutely
alone.
How do you comfort one such as this? Many had tried,
and many had failed. In fact, all had failed. So
here he was, the night of his brother’s funeral, alone
in his backyard watching the sun set and the fireflies
dance. But suddenly a figure Apparated before him.
“Maddie?” he gasped. “Maddie, leave, get out of
here.” Fred pulled his wand from his back pocket.
“Maddie, I don’t want to go to Azkaban, but if I get
the satisfaction of watching you die, my life in
Azkaban would be worth it.” His voice was rasp.
“Don’t kill me, Fred, please. First, let me tell you
of what has just occurred. The soldiers, they
revolted. One began to think for himself, and soon,
we were cornered, them just outside the door. I told
him to Apparate with me, but he’s not a wizard.
Imagine that,” she laughed, “Norax. The feared Norax
isn’t even a wizard. A Muggle, Fred, and look what
he’s done to us?”
“To us? You seem quite happy.”
“Under the spell I was.”
“Was?”
“It’s gone. The soldier who cast it upon me, died.
And it’s gone, forever. I’m Maddie again. Same old,
simple, fifteen-year-old Maddie. And I came to say
sorry.”
“You were a pretty good actor before Maddie, why
should I trust you now?”
“You shouldn’t. I wouldn’t if I were you. But you
said it yourself, the satisfaction that will be
reveled in my death is worth more than anything. So I
plan to take care of it myself. Goodbye, Fred. And I
truly am sorry.” She held her wand up to her head, as
a lone tear drifted down her cheek. They’re right in
those movies. Times like these really do move in slow
motion. Fred, still unsure, dived for Maddie just as
she whispered the words, “Avada Kedavara.” And just
like that, from the power of her own hand, she was
just a limp body before him. He grabbed her, pulling
her body into his lap.
“C’mon Maddie! C’mon!” he screamed, slapping her
cheeks, pulling her long hair, anything to wake her,
“Maddie…please Maddie. God, Maddie! Don’t do this!
Don’t do it! Maddie!” he screamed her name into the
wind, throwing his head back and howling. A fresh
wave of tears took over him. He howled into the air,
holding her close.
*
Madison Wells
1985-2000
A singer that loved the world
And the world that loved her back
*
A/N: Ashley challenged, and I accepted. I loved Time
Told, and although the ending took some time getting
used to, I did and I loved it. I really wanted this
to be a lot longer, but truthfully, I have no time. I
hope this was good. I just knew that I wanted Maddie
to be good in the end, but since that’s not how Ashley
intended it, I knew she had to die. Sorry if you
don’t like the ending of this story either. Tough
cookies!
~Christine