Professor Lupin
The alley was silent.
Or rather, it carried that tainted, expectant silence that precedes a raid.
A steady drip fell from a rusted gutter, marking a rhythm on the wet cobblestones. The air was thick with the sour, heavy stench of forgotten districts, a mix of tar, toxic smoke, burnt oil, and organic waste rotting beneath the rain.
They were in an industrial district, on the outskirts of the city.
Tonks leaned her shoulder against a cracked wall.
She was under a Disillusionment Charm that blurred her with the surroundings, though she could still hear her own muffled breathing.
And her impatience.
A little farther to her right, Dawsey watched the sky, focused, waiting for the signal, while Booth on her left idly twirled his spare wand between his fingers as if he were at a dull party.
Beside them, the rookie cadets—each with their own Disillusionment Charm active, some well cast, others barely holding—murmured nervously in the dark. Some could hardly keep still.
Tonks exhaled, eyeing the decrepit warehouse in front of them, the place they were supposed to enter once the signal came.
What am I even doing here?
The question drifted through her head like a heavy fog.
The operation was a simple one. Textbook, almost.
They were to capture a group of “Death Eater imitators”: petty thieves in cloaks and masks, opportunists without the Mark who exploited fear to loot, extort, or sow chaos. The same kind of scum she and her classmates had discussed after the graduation ceremony a few days earlier.
Lowlifes, yes…but not lethal ones.
Not exactly a dangerous mission.
No real reason for her to be there.
Well, except that since the newly graduated had no field experience, Dawlish had organized the operation and demanded supervision.
Not from senior aurors, of course—just intermediates.
Experienced enough to defend themselves—or at least run—if things went wrong.
And since Tonks had no trainees of her own, she’d been thrown into the group. Or rather, forced into it.
She checked her watch. The operation happened to coincide exactly with an Order of the Phoenix meeting—which, yes, was technically unsanctioned and secret, but still felt far more important to her than chasing a pack of morons in cloaks.
Booth crouched beside her, a restrained grin on his face.
—Bored?
—Very —she muttered without hiding it—. Spending the evening surrounded by trash bins, rusted pipes, and third-rate criminals wasn’t exactly my idea of a productive night.
—Oh, come on, don’t complain so much… it’s not like someone’s waiting for you at home.
Tonks shot him a murderous look. She was about to retort when…
—Hey! —whispered Dawsey suddenly, straightening up—. The signal!
Everyone moved.
They entered from the side, wands raised, their Disillusionment Charms dropping one by one like shadows taking shape. The inside smelled of damp sawdust, old leather, and bad intentions.
A narrow corridor opened into a central room.
There were furniture pieces covered with sheets, empty barrels, a cracked mirror hanging askew… and three hooded figures.
One spoke.
Another nodded.
The third just watched.
Tonks noticed it instantly: the one who watched didn’t speak, didn’t move—just observed.
—Booth —she whispered without moving—. Tell me you see what I see.
Her partner squinted.
—A ring?
Tonks nodded. The ring with the black spiral. Ruby at the center. Little finger, right hand. Exactly the same she’d seen on the man who had met with Rookwood.
Her stomach lurched.
—I’ve seen it before. That symbol…
But she didn’t finish.
The speaking hooded man broke off mid-sentence and spun around sharply, as if he’d smelled their presence.
—Stupefy! —Tonks roared.
The spell streaked across the room like lightning.
And chaos erupted.
A mirror exploded.
A barrel burst into splinters.
A curtain of dust and flashing light filled the space.
Booth lunged at one of the hooded figures, slammed him against a filing cabinet, and cast an Immobulus that shook the floor.
Tonks rolled under a table. A curse whistled over her head and blackened the ceiling.
—Protego!
—Expelliarmus!
—Stupefy!
Spells crossed paths—shouts, glass, footsteps. Wands flew.
The hooded men fell back, poorly prepared. Two of them tried to flee through a skylight, but Booth cast a net that caught them midair.
Tonks pivoted on her knees and aimed toward the side exit.
The third one—the one with the ring—was escaping that way, slipping past two cadets who barely reacted.
Tonks cursed under her breath and followed without thinking.
The night air hit her with a freezing gust.
The hooded man ran through puddles, gliding through shadows as if he knew every corner. Tonks chased after him, her boots splashing mud, dodging glass, trash, and torn sacks.
At a turn, he raised his hand. For a second, the ring glinted under the sickly light of a streetlamp.
Tonks raised her wand… but a spell grazed her left shoulder from behind.
—Get back! —shouted Booth, who had just appeared on her flank.
The imitator dodged with damned elegance, spun on his heel, and vanished in a grayish swirl with a muffled crack.
Only his laughter remained. Dry, brief, mocking.
Tonks froze, panting.
Booth sighed beside her.
—Well, at least we got a couple of them.
She nodded silently, still staring at the spot where the man with the ring had disappeared.
—What did you mean when you said you’d seen that symbol before? —Booth finally asked as they walked back.
Tonks shook her head.
—Super-secret missions of the great Mad-Eye Moody?
—Something like that.
Booth huffed in frustration but didn’t press further.
They returned inside.
Dawlish had already taken command of the scene, barking orders and wearing his usual smugness.
The two prisoners lay on the ground, bound in magical chains. One stared blankly at the horizon, saying nothing. The other was unconscious but breathing normally—a thin boy of about twenty, streaks of black makeup still on his face, his cloak torn.
Tonks approached just as Dawlish pulled up the boy’s left sleeve, searching for the Dark Mark. Nothing.
—No Marks. Just the costume—and the fear they inspire —Dawlish said.
Tonks examined the prisoners’hands, in case they too wore that ring. But no—only the one who’d escaped had it.
She lowered her gaze.
“Toby the One-Eyed had been a dead end; he hadn’t led them to Greaves.”
But maybe, in this Dawlish-imposed raid, she had just uncovered a new path.
A thread to pull.
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The next day, after an exhausting shift buried in paperwork and endless procedures, Tonks left the Ministry and Apparated directly in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
She needed to talk to Sirius.
She couldn’t get the ring out of her head.
Upon entering, she found the kitchen occupied by Molly, completely absorbed in dinner.
Or in the war. It was hard to tell.
The counter looked like a trench and the pots like weapons of mass destruction.
—Sirius? —Tonks asked, peeking in.
—With the kids —Molly replied without stopping stirring—. Third floor. They’re decontaminating one of the rooms.
—Oh, perfect —Tonks muttered—. What a thrilling plan.
She took the stairs two at a time, noticing how the air grew heavier and dustier as she approached the third floor.
As she crossed the landing, something caught her eye.
One of the paintings beside the window showed a grey sheep peacefully grazing in a meadow.
Nothing strange… except that, for a second, she could have sworn it raised its head and stared straight at her.
A sheep? Seriously?
Tonks stopped, narrowed her eyes, and turned toward the portrait.
The sheep was still there, mouth full of grass, perfectly calm.
She snorted through her nose, half amused, half uneasy.
—I’m a mess —she muttered.
And kept going upstairs.
When she reached the next floor, she heard voices and a faint crash behind a half-open door.
She was greeted by Fred, George, and Ginny, in the middle of a full-scale cleaning and cursed-object neutralization operation. Open drawers, flying papers, junk everywhere.
—That wardrobe just moved on its own!
—No, George, it was a giant moth!
—That was not a moth! —yelled the twin—. It’s the walking tongue we just invented!
Ginny rolled her eyes. Her long red hair was pulled back, and she held her lit wand in front of her, carefully examining a piece of furniture sealed with nails.
At the back, sitting on a rickety chair, Remus Lupin was going through the contents of a dusty chest of drawers while keeping an eye on the kids with that look—half patient, half mildly ironic—that Tonks was starting to recognize as his trademark.
When their eyes met, he gave her a faint smile. She answered with one wider than she’d planned.
—Come to save us? —Ginny asked from the floor, wrestling with a box that seemed to creak in an ancient language.
—No, just here to cheer you on —Tonks replied, then glanced back at Remus—. I was looking for Sirius.
—He’s up in the attic with Harry, Ron, and Hermione —he said—. They went to do a preliminary inspection and said they’d be down soon.
Tonks nodded and slowly moved closer to him.
Lupin had crouched down in front of the last drawer, the sleeves of his shirt—neat but apparently older than he was—rolled up to his elbows.
His hair, a little mussed, fell over his forehead in strands, as if he’d run his hands through it repeatedly throughout the day.
Once the kids were absorbed again in their magical battle with the furniture, Tonks sat on the floor beside him. Lupin set his work aside and turned to her.
—How come you didn’t make it to last night’s meeting? —he asked quietly.
Tonks rolled her eyes dramatically.
—Mandatory raid. The capture of a terribly dangerous group of imitators.
He raised his eyebrows, intrigued.
—Imitators?
—Yeah.
The Auror briefly summarized what they knew about the Death Eater copycats.
—Your usual lowlife thieves, really, only now they’re cashing in on the situation.
She made a vague gesture with her hand.
—Black cloaks, masks… one of them even wore make-up. Make-up, Remus. I felt like I was at a carnival parade with generational trauma.
Lupin tilted his head and smiled with one corner of his mouth, a gesture that, to Tonks, was starting to feel like an unexpected reward.
Suddenly, she grew more serious.
—But… —she lowered her voice— it wasn’t entirely useless for the Order.
Lupin glanced sideways at the kids, who were chatting among themselves, oblivious to the adults’ conversation. Then he turned back to her, curious.
—What you mean?
She shook her head and shifted closer, sitting just a bit nearer to him.
—I saw something —she whispered—. The ring. The same one I saw on the man trading information with Rookwood. I saw it again. Yesterday. On one of the imitators.
Lupin frowned and leaned slightly toward her as well.
The sunlight streaming through the window at his back brushed his profile, cutting through the dust hanging in the air. Tonks noticed then the light amber shade of his eyes.
She’d never seen them like that before.
Calm, deep.
Filled with a quiet light that suddenly struck her as… magical.
—You mean… they could be connected? —he asked, breaking the silence.
She snapped out of it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she tried to pick up the thread of the conversation.
—That maybe the fake Death Eaters aren’t so random. That someone is behind them. And that this someone might be the same man we saw with Rookwood.
Lupin murmured:
—Greaves?
Tonks nodded.
They were close enough now to almost share the same breath.
They both noticed it at the same time. Neither said a word.
For a second, Lupin’s eyes searched hers, as if he too had just found something there, in that dark shade he usually overlooked.
And then something exploded at the other end of the room.
—AAAAAAAH! —Fred screamed, falling backwards with a smoking book in his hands. His face was covered in silver dust, his eyebrows standing on end like brooms.
Ginny burst out laughing.
—I told you that book spat curses!
Tonks doubled over with laughter, and Lupin did too, lowering his head with an open smile.
Fred got up, grumbling.
—Laugh it up, Tonks, but you’re taking this one for analysis.
—Not a chance —she shot back between laughs—. You trying to get me fired?
While the rest of the group focused on inspecting a wardrobe on the far side of the room, a strange noise caught the Auror’s attention.
A soft whisper. Then a metallic clink.
She frowned and, without overthinking it, walked over to a stack of old furniture blocking the entrance to a small adjoining bathroom.
—Hello…? —she whispered.
No answer.
Then a sudden crash, followed by a very loud curse, made everyone jump.
With Lupin in the lead, they hurried across the room.
The scene that greeted them when they opened the bathroom door was… peculiar.
Tonks, covered in dust from head to toe, her hair now a blazing red, was shouting at a talking mirror that hurled insults back at her in a nasal, outraged tone.
—What is your problem with me?! —Tonks yelled, wand in hand, facing the rude piece of glass—. I told you I love my hair colour!
The object, of course, disagreed vehemently and began tossing out sarcastic remarks about her lack of taste, which only infuriated her more.
—Aesthetic crime! —it declared haughtily—. Absolutely unacceptable.
The rest of the group, over the initial scare, peeked in behind Lupin, trying not to laugh. He watched Tonks a moment longer, with a mix of fondness and amused resignation.
—Are you all right, Tonks? —he finally asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tonks turned around with all the dignity she could muster, dust in her lashes.
—Yes, yes. Everything under control —she said—. I’m just having a constructive discussion about my hairstyle with this misanthropic chunk of glass.
—Unacceptable! —the mirror shrieked again.
Tonks eyed her reflection, one eyebrow arched. An idea crossed her mind.
With a dismissive huff, she let the mirror rant on while she moved deeper into the bathroom. She reached a worm-eaten screen and bent down to look behind it, wand ready. Then she froze.
—Aha! —she exclaimed, triumphant.
From a pile of old sheets emerged a rough, greenish head wearing a murderous expression.
—Found you, you cowardly personality critic.
The ghoul screeched—a sound halfway between a goat and a boiling cauldron—and lunged at her. Tonks fired a quick spell which, in her frenzy, knocked over a lamp and two side tables.
—Careful! —shouted Ginny, just as an enchanted candelabra went flying overhead.
Lupin, who had been watching intently, raised his wand and cast a containment charm at the ghoul. The creature bounced between two walls like a ball, screaming even louder.
Just then, Sirius appeared in the doorway with a tankard of butterbeer in one hand and an expression of what did I just miss. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed cautiously behind.
—Mind if we join the party? —he said, leaning on the frame.
But the ghoul, more enraged than ever, spat a glob of greenish slime. Tonks dodged it; Sirius wasn’t so lucky. It hit his shoulder, the tankard went flying, and shattered against a rolled-up carpet on the wall.
The carpet began to tremble violently and swear in French.
—Non non non, sacrebleu de misère, espèce de crétin!
—No! —Sirius shouted—. That was my drink!
Ron burst out laughing.
—That was epic! —he exclaimed, staring at the ghoul, who for a brief moment looked offended by the carpet’s insolence.
Eventually, after a series of poorly coordinated spells and a couple of mishaps, they managed to subdue and lock up the ghoul, who gave one last bellow before collapsing in the corner of its cage.
—Does this room count as “decontaminated”? —Ron asked, wand still raised.
—Technically, yes —Lupin replied, still wearing a smile.
—Sounds better than a Defense class to me —Harry added, stepping closer to the creature with interest.
Hermione followed, more cautious, with that mix of focus and fascination she wore whenever theory became practice.
The Weasleys were used to this kind of creature, but Harry and Hermione—raised in the Muggle world—were seeing one for the first time.
It wasn’t much bigger than a house-elf, though its hunched posture made it seem smaller. It wore tattered rags that hung off its squat body like damp cloth, and its little flabby belly swelled and fell with every snort. Its skin was pale greenish, speckled with spots, calluses, and random tufts of hair.
Most striking were its yellowish, half-filmed eyes, shifting restlessly as it scanned everyone with suspicion.
—Professor Lupin —Hermione began, with the same respectful tone she used in class—, is it common for ghouls to hide in places this filthy?
Lupin smiled faintly at the title and answered in his usual academic tone.
—Yes, quite common. Ghouls aren’t particularly dangerous, but they’re not sociable creatures either. They tend to pick secluded places where they can be left alone: cellars, attics, abandoned pipes… rooms like this one —he added, glancing around.
Harry, Ron, and Ginny turned to him, hanging on every word. Hermione nodded, absorbing the information like it was part of a spontaneous lesson.
—They don’t like being disturbed —Lupin went on—. And while they’re not naturally aggressive, they can get rather irritable if they feel their territory’s been invaded.
The ghoul snorted and looked at him, as if to agree.
—Many develop a bond with inanimate objects in their environment, almost as if they owned them: wardrobes, chests of drawers, pipes… even mirrors, as we’ve just seen.
Tonks, leaning against the wall next to Sirius, rolled her eyes with theatrical indignation.
—It’s a form of self-defense —Lupin continued—. They claim those spaces and then make strange noises: creaks, knocks, whispers. They try to spook the inhabitants so they’ll leave them alone. That’s why, in the Muggle world, many so-called “haunted houses” actually have a ghoul as an undeclared tenant.
—Really? —Hermione asked, wide-eyed—. So all those stories about houses creaking at night…?
—Are very likely just a bored ghoul —Lupin replied with an approving smile.
—Or one with unacceptable opinions about other people’s looks —muttered Tonks.
The twins snickered.
Lupin glanced down at her, amused, and she couldn’t help a satisfied smile.
The kids turned back to the ghoul, who even seemed pleased with such a thorough description.
Tonks didn’t stop watching Lupin. She watched him as he kept answering questions, explaining, sharing details in that calm, easy way of his that turned every reply into something fascinating.
It didn’t surprise her that he knew so much—she’d seen him with a book too many times for that—but the way he shared it did.
You could tell he loved it. His passion and enthusiasm slipped between his words and lingered in the air.
And something about it tugged at her mind with quiet curiosity.
—I think we’ve done enough for today —Sirius said calmly, stretching as he left the room.
One by one, they began to go downstairs.
Tonks took the chance to fall into step beside Lupin.
—Why do they call you “Professor Lupin”? —she asked, tilting her head towards him—. I heard Hermione say it… Since when do you have such a fancy title?
Lupin let out a short, surprised laugh and glanced sideways at her.
—For a couple of years now —he replied—. I taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts for a year. Harry’s third year.
Tonks raised an eyebrow, theatrically scandalized.
—And this never came up in our conversations? That’s key information if I’m going to build your profile.
Lupin smiled, amused by her inquisitive tone.
—I was only there for one year —he said simply—. Circumstances were… complicated. But it was a good year. The kids wanted to learn, even if they didn’t always make it easy for me. Still, I think some of it stuck.
The faint melancholy in his voice didn’t escape her, nor did the warmth with which he spoke.
—So, were you the kind of teacher students adore, or the kind that gives them nightmares? —she asked with feigned innocence, glancing at him with a grin.
—Depends who you ask —he replied with a small shrug and a discreet smile—. I cared more about teaching them to defend themselves than enforcing discipline. I suppose my… let’s say “more relaxed” approach made some of them feel more at ease.
Tonks nodded, eyes bright with complicity, quite certain that for most of them, he’d been a favourite.
—I’m sure you were their favourite teacher that year —she said, unable to stop herself from smiling at the thought.
Lupin didn’t answer at once. His smile softened, and for an instant Tonks had the impression his thoughts had drifted back to that time.
They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked along the second-floor corridor.
—I don’t know if I was their favourite —he said at last, lowering his voice—. But for me, it was a very good year.
Tonks looked at him a heartbeat longer than usual before nudging his shoulder lightly with hers.
—That sounds like “favourite”, whether you admit it or not. And either way —she added, nodding toward the kids settling in the drawing room with a deck of cards—, it’s pretty obvious they haven’t forgotten you.
At that moment, Sirius joined them, arms crossed and a mischievous grin on his face.
—What’s all this about “Professor Lupin”? —he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tonks answered without hesitation, smiling.
—Lupin was telling me about his glorious teaching days at Hogwarts. I’m gathering material.
Sirius barked a laugh, delighted.
—Ah, legendary teachers. Impossible to forget them, right? —he joked, throwing Remus a teasing look.
Remus sighed with resignation, but that endless patience of his still shone in his eyes.
—I don’t think it was that big a deal.
Enjoying herself, Tonks added with mock seriousness:
—I agree the kids still see you as the “ideal professor”. Then again… I’m not surprised, with those pearls of wisdom you drop every now and then.
Sirius leaned closer to her as if sharing a secret.
—That must be it. Although, between you and me… it’s not just the wisdom. It’s that touch of mystery he’s got going on. Who could resist that?
Lupin shook his head, smiling, as they descended the last steps.
Tonks looked again at the amber of his eyes, and realized she liked them better this way—when he laughed with them.
Sirius slung an arm around each of their shoulders.
—Come on, let’s get a nice cold butterbeer, because thanks to you —he said, squeezing Tonks’s shoulder— I lost mine.
Tonks burst out laughing.
—Were you expecting me to throw myself in front of that disgusting spit just to save your drink?
—Not just expecting it… —Sirius shot back with mock outrage—. I was absolutely counting on it!
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AUTHOR’S NOTE:
All right, that’s as far as we go for today. As you can see, I’ve been adding little slice-of-life scenes, which I feel really enrich the story and let me develop (and enjoy!) the secondary characters.
Tell me in the comments what you think about my ghoul theory and the strange noises and whispers in abandoned Muggle houses.
Here’s a very late Halloween treat: I actually had an epilogue scene planned for this chapter. The original idea was that the “battle against the ghoul” would lead straight into this “epilogue scene,” which was meant to be the final ending… but then the whole “Professor Lupin” conversation came to mind, and once I added Sirius complaining that he’d expected Tonks to throw herself between him and the ghoul’s spit to save his drink, that already felt like a chapter ending. So I cut the epilogue because it sounded like a “second ending”… but I like it, and I couldn’t bring myself to delete it.
So here it is below—let me know what you think, which chapter ending works better for you… or if, like me, you end up loving both!!
You can see the illustration for this chapter on my socials — come visit me on Instagram or TikTok.
You’ll find all my links here:
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EPILOGUE – Second Ending
It had all started with a comment from Ginny.
—So, what are we going to do with the ghoul now? —the girl asked after a while, looking with a trace of pity at the creature still locked in its cage.
Remus and Sirius exchanged doubtful looks.
—Well… we can’t release it here again. It’d just barricade itself in another room —grumbled Sirius.
—And keeping it locked up isn’t ideal either —added Remus thoughtfully—. We should take it somewhere…
—I know the perfect place —Tonks cut in, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.
………
—But Mum… since we were so focused…!
—Very focused —added George.
—Yes, very focused on the lesson about the ghoul’s habits and customs. Now we can’t miss the practical part.
—And the “practical part” involves releasing it in a Muggle industrial area full of dangers and criminals? —inquired Mrs. Weasley, raising an eyebrow.
—I want to go too, Mum —said Ginny pleadingly—. You didn’t let me stay for the Order meeting when everyone else did… you owe me. Besides, it’s been ages since we got some fresh air.
Molly gave her a stern look, but her daughter’s caramel-colored eyes were her weakness. George hurried to intervene.
—And I’ll go with her, as the good older brother I am. I must make sure she makes the most of the experience and stays safe —he declared solemnly.
At that very moment, a walking tongue —suspiciously similar to the giant moth from that afternoon— landed squarely on Mrs. Weasley’s face.
With a swift flick of her wand and a grimace of disgust, Molly swatted it away without hesitation.
—Fred, go with your sister. George, you’re grounded.
From the top of the stairs, Lupin and Tonks were coming down carrying the ghoul’s cage. They’d heard almost the entire exchange.
—Grounded over an innocent prank? —muttered Lupin sarcastically.
—Don’t mess with maternal authority, Remus —Tonks replied through laughter—, or you’ll get burned.
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Later that night, the small group slipped quietly out the back door of Grimmauld Place: Tonks, Lupin, Fred, and Ginny, escorting the cage as if it were a top-secret Order mission.
The ghoul, still somewhat reluctant, let out a few muffled growls, as though complaining about the transport—or the transporters.
After crossing several deserted streets, they finally reached the industrial zone where Tonks had taken part in the raid just hours before.
The abandoned warehouses, rusted fences, and corroded structures formed a desolate landscape… and, for a ghoul, probably an ideal one.
Remus crouched in front of the cage, studied the creature with a slight tilt of his head, and opened the padlock with a soft click.
—I’m sure you’ll find a nice little corner to settle in —he said, almost as if bidding farewell to an old acquaintance.
The ghoul stared at him for a few seconds and then, with a disdainful snort, turned toward Tonks.
—Don’t look at me like that —she muttered—. I wasn’t the one who decided to kick you out. Anyway, look around you. I’m sure you’ll find a dwelling that suits your… exquisite tastes —she added dryly.
Lupin bit back a smile. The ghoul huffed in offense and vanished into the darkness, blending with the metallic shadows of the place.
The professor straightened up and looked at the kids.
—It’ll probably settle in one of those empty warehouses or sheds —he mused—. And at night it’ll make the walls groan and the pipes growl. The Muggles will start making up stories… urban legends. I’d wager more than one group of kids will sneak in to investigate.
—The perfect Muggle Halloween —murmured Fred with a grin.
Ginny nodded, amused.
Tonks looked at Remus, her smile caught halfway between tenderness and irony. There was something in his calm way of caring, of worrying, of finding a home even for a stray creature, that felt deeply his. And sweet.
She couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
Lupin looked at her, curious.
She lifted her face toward him, a playful sparkle dancing in her eyes.
—You know you’re insufferably adorable sometimes? —she said teasingly—. Sometimes I can’t tell if I want to hug you or smack you. Haven’t decided yet.
—Is that a compliment? —he replied, raising an amused eyebrow.
—Don’t get used to it —she said, giving him a light nudge with her elbow.
Ginny, who’d been watching the two adults out of the corner of her eye, turned to her brother.
Fred, apparently thinking the same thing, brought two fingers to his mouth and mimed a silent gag.
Ginny stifled a laugh.
—Adults are so weird.
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