Weasley Twins - Blog Posts

Do you have any weasley twins hcs to share asking for a friend

All I can think of at the moment was the elaborate plot that I had come up with ages ago.

After Fred dies, George closes the Joke shop because as much as he loved it, it was more of Fred's passion, and he knows Fred would want him to do something that he was passionate about. When Fred was alive, that was George's passion. It didn't matter what he was doing as long as he had Fred.

George goes off the grid and travels the world. He always wanted to travel. The off the grid part kind of just happened since after Fred's death, his family had honestly become suffocating. They had become overbearing.

Anyway, he's on the border of some counties, and it's snowing, where he meets a pair of identical twins (shocker) John and Robert who goes by Bobby. They sort of adopt him, and they run from the government together because Bobby's a werewolf and John's a vampire.

It brought up a lot of pain for George, but at the same time, it left him so confused. If he hadn't been told that John was helping Bobby run from the ministry, and must obviously care for him if he would willingly do that, he would think that these two hate each other. Their bickering sounded a lot more cruel than any of the sort that Fred and him had done.

In the past 45 minutes, they had been walking not once had they touched. Hell, 10 minutes in Fred and George would have been linked by the elbow and skipping along to a badly whistled tune, something that would get them smiles and eye rolls.

Fred had always been someone who gave so much affection without being prompted, so George didn't have to ask. It wasn't uncommon to find them passed out on the couch curled into one another, especially when they started working on their business.

John and Bobby taught George independence and being able to rely on yourself, which George hates to admit, but before then, he had no grasp on what independence was or what to do with it. He always had Fred to help him.

George, in turn, taught John and Bobby the importance of connection, of actually getting along and showing support, and it not just being something from the sidelines.

(Sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted 😅)

I just really needed my probably, most definitely, ooc Weasley twins hurt/comfort, with protective Fred and that stupid blood quill.

It was an unspoken rule within Hogwarts that all new students and teachers were quietly (most times) made aware of was that, under any circumstances, were you to separate the Weasley twins. Even if it was only one of them that had been up to trouble (though it rarely was), you gave them both detention. It was probably the only thing they wouldn't argue back about with a teacher, and after the incident in their second year, no one could blame them.

George had been given a solo detention for the first time and had ended up passing out from a panic attack, not used to not having Fred right beside him. Fred had almost gotten expelled that night, extremely agitated without George within the same room as him, lashing out verbally and later physically at anyone who even attempted to either approach or talk to him. The only reason he hadn't been expelled was because McGonagall realised quite quickly that it was a reaction to being separated.

So when Umbridge, at dinner on the second night back at school, gave George a detention and not Fred as well, the entire great hall went deadly silent. Protests were already on the tip of Fred's tongue but were silenced by George's hand grabbing his and a small shake of his head. George got up on slightly shaky legs and followed Umbridge out of the room. Irrational agitation instantly consumed Fred, and he got up, stalking his way to Gryffindor tower. Ginny and Ron following shortly after along with Harry and Hermione.

Fred was pacing, so much so that he's pretty sure if the carpet wasn't enchanted, he would have worn through it by now. The other four had been sitting in absolute silence, just watching Fred pace for the last 45 minutes. He had originally been playing chess with Ron but had quickly gotten mad and flipped the board, Ron wouldn't hold it against him, they all knew he wouldn't, but Fred would apologise anyway. So now he was pacing because at this point, it was the only thing he could do without hurting either himself or someone else. Everyone else had all just quietly gone up to their rooms, not wanting to disturb Fred.

Finally, finally, the portrait opened, and George stumbled in, drained of all colour and on the verge of panicing before his eyes landed on Fred. He instantly made his way over, his twin meeting him halfway, wrapping George up in a hug, who immediately started sobbing. Fred brought them over to one of the couches and laid them down so that George was comfortable against Fred's chest, holding him as tightly as he could and threading a hand through his hair. Fred looked over and shared a concerned look with Ron and Ginny, who were looking increasingly more worried the longer George cried.

'Georgie, what happened?' Fred asked an hour later once George had finally settled down. George immediately sat up, panic evident in his voice and his maneurisms. 'Please don't make me go again. Fred, I don't want to do that again, don't make me go back, please. I don't want to be alone.' Fred brought George back into a hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back before speaking. 'Hey, shhhh, it's ok. You won't go back, I won't let you. But you've got to tell me what happened, ok?' George sniffed, nodding his head before giving his right hand to Fred, who was confused at first before he saw it. Engraved on the top of his hand, in a shaky version of George's neat print were the words "I will be alone"

'Umbridge prefers to use a blood quill for punishment instead of the usual detention activities.' Ginny audibly gasped in response, while Harry quietly asked Hermione what a blood quill was, and Ron had stared pacing in the spot that Fred had been pacing over an hour ago now. He sounded so defeated that it almost put out the anger that Fred was feeling, almost, because how could that bitch. This was his George, though. Who would 8/10 be in tears when ever the Weasley siblings' rough housing got too violent, who almost didn't join the quidditch team because he was terrified of getting hurt, who spent 6 months crying because he had to get magical stitches and somehow kept pulling them out, who almost failed DADA one year because he didn't want to duel. This was his twin brother who was a sensitive person, has hyperalgesia, and can only just manage getting poked with a wand. So, the fact that Umbridge would actively make his brother inflict pain on himself made Fred absolutely livid.

All Fred found himself doing was just pulling George as close as he could and continue to reasure his twin that everything would be alright. Fred would talk to Dumbledore, and if he wouldn't do anything, he'd go to the school board, their mum was on that. She'd definitely do something about it, Fred would make sure of it because this was his brother.

As George fell asleep, the others went to bed, Fred just planted a kiss to his forehead and settled in for the night, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep until Umbridge was gone.

Most iconic thing in the Harry Potter

Molly Weasley, bless her, had started off making the ‘Weasley sweaters’ as a form of telling George and Fred apart. But they still switch their sweaters, cheeky bastards. After they got theirs, everyone wanted it, so that’s how the tradition is born. If you have a sweater, you’re official.

so, i figured, to tide over all my adoring fans [blows dramatic kiss to empty theater with 3-4 stragglers] i'd post one of my lil oneshots to ao3!!!

prototype #1993.37 "more-mini recorder thingy" v.3 exp.trial.1

this babey is a Percy Weasley-centric fic, narrated by our shayla, preteen ron, focusing on the relationship (and backstory) between percy and the twins, with a heavy heavy helping of Sibling Angst™!!

since this went over so well last time, lemme add some of this fic's comedic hits below, no spoiler edition!

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Every now and then ill be looking for a George fic to read and i'll stumble across something for Fred instead because theres a great deal more content for Fred than George and the description will sound like an interesting concept and im so starved for fics that i'll try reading it and I genuinely cant read it

I'm sorry to all the Fred girlies out there i know you love your man but it feels like im cheating on my boy and i just cant do it

like thats my husband and thats his brother and i physically cant

Y/n: [standing outside George's window with a "PROM?" sign]

Fred: [leaning out the window] Oh, my God, YES!

Y/n: NO! TELL GEORGE!

Fred: George, I'm going to prom with your girlfriend!

In Dumbledore’s Office

Fred: Why did the chicken cross the road?

Dumbledore: I don’t know, why?

Fred: To get to the idiots house.

Fred: Knock, Knock.

Dumbledore: Who’s there.

Fred: The Chicken.

Dumbledore: ...

Fred: ...

Dumbledore: I wont give you detention on one condition.

Fred: What?

Dumbledore: Go tell that joke to Snape.

8-year-old Ron to Fred & George: I just want to be included. Ron, after being included: What the hell and fuck-

“Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.”

The Essence of Time ch 1 ✨

George Weasley has always loved the color gold. It was half his Hogwarts house. It was also something his Weasley house never had within its four walls. It was earned, through blood, sweat, and tears of his own merit in his joke shop— school drop-out notwithstanding. Gold, from its hue to its shine to its value, is beautiful. Not in a greedy way, just an unattainable beauty that always seemed to walk beside him, companionably. Something he could admire, and then partake in, while having both nostalgia and longing all at once.

Gold interested him, it always did. Now, in the After it taunts him. In his dreams, in his memories, in every bleeding moment of his existence. Even in the Before, when he was a shell of a man, merely clinging to his firewhiskey and living on despite all desires, gold did not bother him as such. Nothing bothered him, he didn’t have a care in the world. In the Before, he was a pair without his match. Left in a limbo of sorts, one foot in the world and one foot in the beyond, following after Fred. Each day was a test— or at least it felt like one. What decision would he make today: stay or leave? It was a cruel choice, and many that he doesn’t quite remember making consciously. Most he probably did not, if he was being honest with himself.

The first of April 1999 brought it all to a head, and dragged George Weasley kicking and screaming by his remaining ear. That was the last night he had to make that particular choice, and if his current circumstances are of any indication, he definitely had no clue what was waiting for him on the other side.

George’s first birthday without his twin sent him tumbling into the arms of the bottle. Following that, he stumbled down the narrow stairs which led to the back of his shop, aggravated and searching for his wand.

The spell wouldn’t work, when he whispered or when he shouted. It just wouldn’t. He slammed the offending wood against his wrist over and over— wild sparks ricocheting off the shelves. Explosions and liquids and fireworks and bubbles filled the air, crowding the space and overwhelming his senses. He screamed until his voice caught in his throat, until all he had left was soundless sobs, that rocked his body against the floor. It was pointless— his wand refused to harm its master. To break the allegiance it so cherished.

He chucked the black walnut against the wall, sending gold sparks flashing through the dark workroom. Pointless. Utterly pointless. George let out a hoarse moan, the choice floating above him, mocking him.

I tried! He roared to no one. To the great beyond, he really didn’t know. It was the Before, it’s all a blur to him now.

But did he, really?

The shop creaked at times. Whether the age, or the weight, or the magic of a building full of laughter, they never knew. They were accustomed to the sound, even joked more than once that 93 Diagon Alley just liked to check in, say hello.

At that moment, on George’s twenty-first birthday, but not Fred’s, their home creaked. The stairs actually. They were steep, and narrow and many.

It was at the bottom of these wooden stairs, well after high tea time, late on the first of April that Hermione Granger found one lone broken man. The morning of the second of April found that broken, twenty-one year old man safely tucked in his bed, Skele-Gro resting offensively on his nightstand, and his collarbone wrapped tightly. His friend holding tight to his hand on the uninjured side of his body and staring at him with her all-seeing owl-ish eyes. And on that morning he couldn’t face her, nor on the third morning. He couldn’t face himself, either. He had avoided that choice for three-hundred and thirty-four days. He limped through the sunlight and the moonlight, not living, but not doing the other thing either. And then when he finally made a choice— the world in all its buggery wouldn’t let him do it. Not his magic. Not his home. Not his friend. So he avoided her gaze. He stayed silent and didn’t answer her questions, her pleas. He sat and breathed, and fumed, and mourned. But she didn’t give up. It was a battle, apparently, the kind he hasn’t played in a very long while. Hermione Granger played very well, George soon learned. She could play the long game. She could outsmart anyone, he already knew that, but battle strategies? Warfare? Color him impressed. She met his silence with presence. She emboldened herself to solidify her right to be there, in his home. She washed his dishes, all one million of them that had piled up from his despicable human needs. She scourgified his laundry, and mopped his floors the Muggle way. She gave him a satisfied, if not small, smile under her flushed skin, slightly damp from the hard work. On the fourth morning, over the black tea she handed him, she hummed a tune he had never heard.

What song is that?

A smirk had graced her lips and she could’ve shocked the pants off Merlin himself with what she said next.

Hit Me Baby One More Time.

Muggles and their music. George hadn’t smiled in three-hundred and thirty-seven days. He smiled that day.

So Hermione stayed, teetering around his home and his shop in some unspoken agreement they made. He never received the first Howler full of hysterics, the mediwizards never arrived to cart him off to St. Mungo’s, and Hermione maintained her visits. His family never heard a word of what happened, and he never complained when his friend turned her key into his lock and announced they were nipping to Tesco for crisps since he didn’t have anything.

The anniversary came and went, but George did not grieve alone. He may have wanted to. He may have felt a twinge in his collarbone, and he may have glanced one too many times at his stairs, but he was not alone. Instead, he saw his mother for the first time in six months, his friend with a watery smile in the shadows, watching. Spring turned into summer, and with the heat came sunlight. Glorious sunlight that sparkled off the pond at the Burrow, and turned the hairs on his arms white. The sunlight glistened in Ginny’s hair like a fiery halo, and reflected off Harry’s glasses. It tinged Ron’s skin pink, and brought out the golden flakes in Hermione’s brown eyes. George had forgotten she had such striking eyes. The first time he had noticed the color was years ago at Hogwarts, when she had been wearing a gold chain around her neck, its pendant tucked under her robes. The necklace brought the color out in her eyes, but had done nothing to hide the deep rings of purple underneath. The sunlight brought many memories back to him in the Before. The memories brought pain. But the pain brought ideas. Memories and ideas. An idea that Hermione didn’t like. That was illegal. You don’t understand, George— it cannot be done. Hermione… please. It took many more nights, weeks even, but his friend agreed to look, to see. But no promises, George. At the dawn of fall, her key turned in his lock and wide, owl eyes met his. The gears started turning before she even finished speaking. They would have to travel far, to meet with a Mistress Linnea Birger in Sweden, an expert.

She was rude and unhelpful and George brooded the whole portkey home. As Hermione kicked her shoes off by his front door, he was still grumbling about the international forms he’d filled out in the Portkey Office of the Department of Magical Transportation. The long-suffering sigh and a cup of steaming tea finally soothed his temper. The slam of a book upon his coffee table was as natural to him as the creaking of 93 Diagon Alley. Finally, finally, the night of the winter solstice Hermione says she has it. Nothing about this will be easy, George. Nothing really ever is, is it? The Headmistress will not be pleased when she speaks to her Gargoyle in the stairwell, but the pair are hopeful she could be distracted with joy in the After. Hope, a dangerous feeling indeed. The last Time-Turner, preserved by Professor Dumbledore for services to the school in 1994, lays within the Headmaster’s office. How Hermione knew that is beyond George’s knowledge, but he’s following her lead. They walk in silence, each step bringing them closer to George’s nightmares. The seventh floor, once a place of such fun, now left just as scarred as the rest of them. The castle mourned too. Its magic was ancient and deep, more complex than any have understood. It withstood the great battle, but the castle lost too many that day. One barely a man, who brought such joy into these walls, such cleverness and bravery. A man who breathed life into this magic, kept it going even in the dark, just as he was taught. They would fix this. This pair, one newly formed and one broken, would restore just a bit of what the castle lost that night. They would succeed. They had to. The wall has been repaired and it's waiting for them in the left corridor. George keeps his eyes on Hermione, her spellwork upon the old Time-Turner more rapid and complex than he’s ever seen. The dust, golden and sparkling, swirls up around them. It sticks to his clothes, tangles in her hair, brushes his ear. He doesn’t ask questions, he just watches her work, entranced. The dust creeps up her neck, and she pauses for a split second, wildly seeking him out.

Time is sentient, George, and it does not stand with being manipulated.

What? It’s too late. The Before is rapidly shifting, the ground under them is trembling. Their hands rip apart and George didn’t even remember reaching for her. Spells begin flying over their heads, and George vaults in front, shielding his friend’s body with his own. She pushes him off, landing a shield over their heads and scrambles back as green flashes around them. "Hello, Minister!" George lurches, a visceral response. Nonononono— Hermione, she’s faster. She moves like a cat, vaulting over stone and wood, shoving her way through the bodies and the blood. He didn’t even hear her cast, didn’t see her wand move, but the wall stood still and Fred laughed and Percy adjusted his glasses and Fred laughed and laughed. One moment George was across the corridor and the next his arms were around his twin. Blood and snot and dust and tears— madness. Total madness. “She did it! Oh, Fred, she saved you. Hermione did it. Hermione! Fred, you’re here!”

Fred patted his back. Fred!

“HERMIONE! You did it, Hermione!”

George gripped his brother so tightly it must hurt, but Fred didn’t complain.

“Georgie? What’s wrong?”

George loosened his grip on his twin, a beaming smile on his face. Gold dust still coated his hands, mingling onto Fred’s shoulder.

Fred peered back, concern and bemusement resting on his freckled face. “And who is Hermione?”

So I’m writing two fanfic harry x tvdu crossover I need to ask something. which one of the Weasley twins should Hope date?

 We’ll Meet Again

“They tell of a tale in these London parts. That the devil and the wondering soul meet once every century......”

Prophecy: 

Behold, the Dark Lord, shrouded in night,

With cunning eyes that gleam with a wicked light.

He sought power, a thirst that never waned,

And found it in two girls, their powers untamed.

The first, an obscurial, her magic twisted,

A parasitic force, dark and unassisted.

Her heart consumed by anger and pain,

She unleashed destruction, a torrent of disdain.

The second, a Veela, of ancient blood,

Her lineage was renowned, a power understood.

To cheat Death, to rise from ashes anew,

A gift passed down, rare and true.

The Dark Lord, in his arrogance and greed,

Though he could control them, and fulfill his need.

But little did he know, their destinies entwined,

Two forces combined, an alliance enshrined.

The obscurial, with her dark might,

Found solace in the Veela's light,

Their powers melded, a force so strong,

They united against the Dark Lord's wrong.

With their combined strength, they rose in might,

Fighting against the Dark Lord's blight.

They shattered his plans, broke his hold,

Their powers are unstoppable, brave, and bold.

The Dark Lord, now faced with defeat,

Brought to his knees, humbled and beat.

The girls, victorious, brought him down,

His reign of darkness forever drowns.

So ends the tale of the Dark Lord's plight,

Thwarted by two girls, with powers so bright.

Their alliance is a symbol of hope and might,

A prophecy fulfilled, in the battle for light.

COMING SOON!!!! chapters will be uploaded here on Tumblr, Wattpad, and Ao3

 We’ll Meet Again

“They tell of a tale in these London parts. That the devil and the wondering soul meet once every century......”

Prophecy: 

Behold, the Dark Lord, shrouded in night,

With cunning eyes that gleam with a wicked light.

He sought power, a thirst that never waned,

And found it in two girls, their powers untamed.

The first, an obscurial, her magic twisted,

A parasitic force, dark and unassisted.

Her heart consumed by anger and pain,

She unleashed destruction, a torrent of disdain.

The second, a Veela, of ancient blood,

Her lineage was renowned, a power understood.

To cheat Death, to rise from ashes anew,

A gift passed down, rare and true.

The Dark Lord, in his arrogance and greed,

Though he could control them, and fulfill his need.

But little did he know, their destinies entwined,

Two forces combined, an alliance enshrined.

The obscurial, with her dark might,

Found solace in the Veela's light,

Their powers melded, a force so strong,

They united against the Dark Lord's wrong.

With their combined strength, they rose in might,

Fighting against the Dark Lord's blight.

They shattered his plans, broke his hold,

Their powers are unstoppable, brave, and bold.

The Dark Lord, now faced with defeat,

Brought to his knees, humbled and beat.

The girls, victorious, brought him down,

His reign of darkness forever drowns.

So ends the tale of the Dark Lord's plight,

Thwarted by two girls, with powers so bright.

Their alliance is a symbol of hope and might,

A prophecy fulfilled, in the battle for light.

COMING SOON!!!! chapters will be uploaded here on Tumblr, Wattpad, and Ao3

Childhood Promises (Part 2)

The beginning of the year and semester preparation was always a time of rambunctiousness. Diagon Alley bustling with magical children, witches and wizards from all ages and grades rushing to get their supplies or find something that might pique their interests.

It was coming up on the beginning of year for you, now in your fifth year at Hogwarts. You had decided to go get your needed items with the Weasley's, Hermione and Harry. The family had used Floo powder to travel and after finding Harry in Knockturn Alley by Hagrid, you were sure to follow the one of the most important rules of travelling by Floo: Speak clearly.

As Mrs. Weasley heads off with Ginny, Mr. Weasley with Hermione's parents, Percy wandering off and Ron, Hermione and Harry exploring, that only left George, Fred and you. What better to do than spend time with your two childhood best friends? "So, what shall we do?" Inquires George, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Fred shrugs. "How about we go check on that little joke shop you guys fancy?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds good." The twins recite in unison.

And so the three of you set off, occasionally pointing to something that would interests you all. At the same time you guys pass an empty alley, Fred and George manage to slip in with you and place you against the walls, moving close to your face. You let out a surprised yelp but then quickly settle down. "What's this about?" You question. "Just wanted to spend some time with our best friend." Fred replies in a falsely innocent tone, his hand tracing around your waist. You stare at them, puzzled. "We need to get our stuff, and hit up the shop, why're you trying to procrastinate?"

George sighs and points to the nearby shop of Borgin and Burkes, revealing a boy you had spoken about frequently in your last year, the boy whom you proclaimed to be in love with. You let out a mix of a huff and scoff, partially embarrassed that they had managed to remember what he looked like, but also not believing how they did. "Remember our promise?" Whispered Fred in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah, but he was from last year, how does that count?" With a wide grin, George replies. "It just does, sweetheart."

And with that, Fred began to practically devour your lips in that passionate, fiery and possessive kiss you had found yourself longing for unknowingly. You had responded immediately, your hands flying to find purchase on either of his cheeks, urging him subtly. His hands roam your body with no real aim, but the heat rising between you both was almost palpable. After a few scorching moments, he pulled his away, his lips went and red with the ferocity in which he had dived in with, he panted slightly, taking in a huge breath. You stared up at him, not able to form words to describe or even knowing what to say after something as speechless as that.

George takes this moment to gift you with a mesmerizing kiss of his own, his finger sliding under your chin, lifting it up featherly. He leans down, pressing a hand to the wall of the alley in which you were against and another to your upper waist, holding you steady while capturing your lips in a sweet, everlastingly tender kiss causing electric sparks to seemingly emit from every one of his touches makes contact with your burning skin. "Hey, c'mon. We gotta go back to Mum or she'll flip, think we kidnapped Y\N or something.." Urges Fred, tapping George on his shoulder as he strolls out of the alley. With a grumble, George reluctantly pulls away, following Fred out of the alley with an hand on the top of your head, ruffling it playfully.

Your thoughts dwell on the heatedly jealous kisses from the twins and you smile to yourself, biting your lip slightly as you both finally go to regroup with the Weasley's and begin to gather your supplies.

.

.

Awaited Part 2!

Childhood Promises (Part One)

You were laughing with your two favorite people: Fred and George, the Weasley Twins. Making random jokes, reminiscing their own fifth years. "How's the shop coming?" You ask, crossing your legs. George shrugs, running a hand through his still long, ginger hair. "It's been going great. Mum's still very offended by it, for whatever reason." Fred rolls his eyes, leaning closer to you. "Y\N, could you promise us something?"

You tilt your head a bit and then nod. George, looking positively alarmed and concerned gazes at Fred, looking for some type of conformation that it is a good promise, since he is being dragged into it. Fred shoos George away and looks you dead in your eyes. "Promise us you won't kiss any guy while you are at school." George looks taken aback and then just decides to go with it, matching Fred's desperation with his own pleading gaze.

You chuckle awkwardly, immediately placing your hand on your neck nervously. "Guys, you know I-" You were cut off by Fred leaning forward and capturing your sweet lips in an even sweeter and more passionately begging kiss. Your eyes widen at first as he wraps his arms securely around your waist, forcing you closer. George watches in awe at Fred's boldness and then clears his throat noisily, Fred's lips leave yours and so does his arms. You recoup momentarily as George is easing you into a meaningful and sweet kiss, completely different from the fiery, passionate kiss Fred gifted you with.

"I-I promise." You utter softly, earning yourself two relieved smiles from the twins. "C'mon, let's get you down to Mum for dinner." George says, standing up and extending his hand to help you up. "Yeah. Mum will go ballistic if she hears we did this.." A grin widens on Fred's face, although he seems serious to an extent. "I love you guys." You smirk, following the two tall red-heads out of their shared bedroom door.

A\N: This is something I thought of randomly scrolling through my fluffy tags for the Weasleys, and here it is, in parts, with part two coming Monday soo be ready for that.

IMPORTANT HARRY POTTER QUESTION!!!

For all of us that have read HP fics of whatever era we have inevitably come across a common room party.

My question is how do the older kids keep the younger ones out of the parties??? Like what if one comes in late from the library? Ok sure you send that kiddo up to bed but what about the others up in their rooms? How do you keep them from coming down and partaking in something beyond their age range????

If anyone has any thoughts or ideas please let me know I can’t think of anything logical …

still mad that the official harry potter page turned into a draco stan acc on april 1st ☹️☹️ give my boys their day

“people who celebrate fictional characters’ birthdays are crin—” I DON’T CARE HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE AND FRED WEASLEY