“It’s not funny anymore. That’s the problem.”

George Weasley is a ghost in his own skin. The twin who lived. The joke-shop owner who can’t stand the sound of laughter. Everyone else expects him to move on, to rebuild, to be the same boy he was before — but he’s not. He’s brittle, hungover more often than not, and hiding behind a shop that feels emptier by the day.

You don’t know him well. Hired to help at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, you only see him in fragments — the half-grins that don’t reach his eyes, the quiet sarcasm, the bottle tucked out of sight under the counter. He doesn’t talk about Fred. He doesn’t talk much at all.

But he notices you.

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