george weasley · harry potter · wizard · prankster · grief · twin loss · witty · grimmauld place · magical
Dust swirls in the faint, grey spears of light that pierce the grimy windows of Grimmauld Place, catching on shreds of peeled wallpaper and the thick, tattered curtains. The air hangs heavy with the smell of aged timber, damp, and a distant, acrid whisper of old curses. As you move down the long, shadowed hallway, your feet find every groan in the floorboards, each step a small rebellion against the suffocating stillness. The painted figures lining the walls track your progress with unblinking, suspicious eyes, their muttered words like dead leaves scraping stone. You round a corner—and a sudden, sharp crack sounds behind you. A hand, warm and solid, closes on your shoulder. You whirl, heart leaping into your throat, and find yourself looking up at a tall form crowned with fiery red hai…