Weasley and Weasley (Deceased)- chapter 5!

Read Chapter 4!
"Fred?"

George stared wildly around the room. He dashed first into the bathroom, then into the kitchen, then back downstairs to double-check the shop.

"What the hell are you doing?" cried Lee as George came bursting through the door. "I can hear you thundering around upstairs like a heard of Hippogriffs!"

"Sorry," George panted, a sickening knot forming in his stomach as he noted that Fred wasn't in the shop either. "I've, er - lost something."

Lee did not looked contented. "Yeah, well, find it soon, will you? They're getting rowdy in here."

George nodded, then spun on one foot and Apparated back upstairs. In his haste, he had not really thought about where he was going, and had wound up in the bathroom instead. He paused, thinking hard, then slumped down to sit on the edge of the bath, holding his head in his hands.

'He had to go sometime,' a very unwelcome voice spoke up from the back of his head. 'It couldn't have lasted forever…'

He had been so pleased to have Fred back and he hadn't even properly realised it. He had kept telling himself that it wasn't real and that Fred didn't really belong here, just to make it easier for the time when Fred, eventually, had to leave. Had he ever really been here at all? He had not been as transparent as a ghost, that was sure, and he certainly hadn't been able to walk through walls. But he had never really looked fully alive, either. There had still been a bit of haziness to his outline, a bit of distance to his voice.

'But why leave now?' George found himself thinking. 'Why come here on Tuesday morning, stay for a couple of days and then disappear again? Fred hadn't known how he'd got here - or so he'd told me, he hadn't seemed too keen to discuss it - so who was the one sending him here and then pulling him back?'

For a daft moment, he thought it actually might have been himself. 'My dreams,' he thought. 'I started having dreams about him again and then he comes back. There has to be a link… But I didn't summon him, I'm pretty sure of that.'

He began thinking over the events of last Monday, running through his head everything that had happened after he had woken up from the dream about Fred stealing stuff from Zonko's again. He stared around the bathroom for inspiration. He had been in a bit of a hurry, so he hadn't washed properly. He had splashed water over his face, he had not looked in the mirror, he had - wait a minute…

His eyes lighted on something lying on the bathroom shelf. It was thin and gold and glittering, dotted with black beads and bits of glass. 'That was the day,' he thought with a sudden shock of realisation, 'that was the day someone sent that back to the shop. That was the day I put it on and didn't realise I was still wearing it until this morning. And Fred came back that night and was gone again after I'd had a shower today - after I'd taken it off again today!'

Without another moment's thought, he leapt up and grabbed the necklace from the shelf. It twinkled mysteriously at him in the morning light, as though hinting that it knew something that George didn't.

"It's worth a try," he muttered. "The worst that'll happen is I look a bit stupid."

He took in a deep breath, and slung the chain around his neck.

~***~

It was bizarre seeing King's Cross this quiet. Fred felt a vague sense of déjà vu as he stared blearily around the platform, watching the smoke overhead drift lazily above him. The train would surely be here any minute, and then he would be back where he belonged…

He slumped down onto the cast-iron bench which sat facing the railway line. The past few days spent with George were already beginning to feel like an odd dream, and he was having a hard time convincing himself that they had been real. It was probably better that way, he decided. Better not to dwell on dreams.

"Back again, so soon?" a familiar voice asked, and Fred became aware that someone was sat next to him. A man with white hair, and a beard which trailed almost to the floor, was peering at him over half-moon spectacles.

"I suppose so," Fred said vaguely. "Doesn't really feel like I ever left, to be honest."

Dumbledore gave him a small and knowing smile. "Time does seem to lose its significance on this side, I'm afraid." He moved his gaze slowly to observe the empty platform.

Fred hoped he wasn't going to say anything about how cruel it was that he and George had been split apart at such a young age. That was what the other one had said - the long-lost relative who had come to collect him the last time. Only, at that moment, confirmation that he was never going to see George again hadn't exactly been what he had wanted to hear.

He looked again at the railway line. "Train's taking a bit longer this time," he commented quietly.

The man next to him nodded. "I think that may be because it knows you aren't going to get on it."

"What?" Fred frowned, wondering if he had misheard what Dumbledore had said. "Not get on it? How else am I going to get back?"

Dumbledore turned to face him properly, and his expression was suddenly rather commanding. "Your friends are on the right track," he said seriously. "But I don't think they, or even you, realise the severity of what you have become involved in. Your brother will need your advice, your help. For your reappearance has a great deal to do with it all."

Fred snorted. "Right. Fat lot of good I am, I can't even leave the shop."

"You can't leave him," Dumbledore corrected. "Your reappearance is connected with your brother, and so to go too far, not from the shop, but from him, would cause you to… well…"

"Go a bit wobbly, yeah," Fred nodded. The man with the half-moon spectacles gave him a warm smile.

"I was going to say 'would cause the connection between you to loosen, and therefore your spectral presence to become weaker'. Although, I rather think your phrase does the trick quite as well." Dumbledore winked at him, and Fred suddenly felt his bewilderment begin to dissipate.

"I must admit," Dumbledore continued, "I never envisaged entrusting such an important task to Hogwarts' most infamous rule-breakers…" He gave Fred a rather shrewd look, and the latter grinned. "But then, I was never really one for the rules myself."

Fred studied the man's face for a moment. "You said my reappearance has something to do with it… What do you mean by that?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You're on the right track," he said. Then, "Good luck, Mr. Weasley."

His brilliant blue eyes twinkled and suddenly Fred felt faintly sick. A moment later, he could see nothing at all.

~***~

"Harry was right - he can't half be confusing sometimes…"

"Fred! Fred, you're back - er, what?"

Fred was gazing past his twin with a dazed look on his face. "Er, nothing… Um - what? What am I doing here, again? Was I asleep or something? I dreamt it, didn't I?"

"No, no - you weren't asleep, you were gone! Just vanished!" George explained hurriedly. "Look - I think I've figured it out -"

"Vanished?" Fred looked bemused. "I thought I was going back."

"Well, you might have been, but -"

"I was on the platform and everything, same as before…"

"Yes, you probably were going back to the other side, or wherever, but the point is -"

"It all felt like a dream, you know? And when I was talking to -"

"It's the necklace!" George shouted, with a triumphant air. "It's this necklace - it must be. This is the reason why you're here!"

He pointed vigorously at the chain around his neck. Fred, alarmed at this sudden outburst, stared at it dubiously. "That's the reason why I'm here?" he said, not bothering to disguise his disbelief. "Looks a bit tacky to me. Isn't it one of those charms that went wrong?"

George shook his head. "I thought so too," he said earnestly, "but it's not. I don't really know what it is, to be honest, but - someone sent it back to the shop on Monday with some other stuff. They sent it in this box all wrapped up and I thought they were just sending it back because it didn't work - remember the ones that turned black during testing?" Fred nodded, and George went on, "Well, I thought it was just one of those. So I put it on and nothing happened, and then - I don't know - I got distracted or something and I didn't realise I still had it on. I only noticed a few hours ago when I took a shower."

"You haven't showered for five days?"

"Shut up - that's not the point -"

"Certainly explains the smell…"

"Look -" George's eyes widened in frustration, "I'm trying to help explain why you're here." He took in a deep breath. "It's got something to do with this, I'm sure of it. When I took it off, you disappeared. And I've just picked it up again and now you're back. See - watch." He lifted the necklace from round his neck and tossed it onto the bed. Fred vanished.

For a moment, George was unsure as to whether he wanted his discovery to be true. That was twice now the timings of Fred's disappearances and reappearances had coincided with him putting on the necklace, which meant it really was him controlling when Fred came back. But how on earth did it work?

He stared at the necklace lying on Fred's bed. It was just a little, slightly garish, broken charm… wasn't it? Why would someone have sent it to him, wrapped-up in a return-to-sender package, if it had the power to bring back the dead?

He took in a deep breath. "I need Fred to think," he murmured, and snatched up the necklace from the bed. In another moment, it was around his neck again.

"Mother of Merlin!" Fred tottered over from the other side of the room, clutching at his stomach. "Don't do that again! I might be dead, but apparently that doesn't stop me feeling sick…" He sat down rather heavily on his bed.

George's face was plastered with a mixture of relief and delight. "That proves it," he said. "It's definitely this - that's twice now your reappearances have been linked to me wearing this thing." He tugged at the necklace.

"Right," said Fred slowly, giving the necklace a very suspicious look. "Well, that would make sense with what Dumbledore said, I suppose. About you having something to do with me being here."

All the relief drained from George's face, which twisted itself back into a frown. "What? Dumbledore - you spoke to Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," his twin nodded. "He was on the platform, while I was waiting to go back. He said something about - er - we're all on the right track, or something. Hard to remember now, actually. He wasn't exactly crystal clear about it. But if it's you wearing that necklace that's bringing me back, well, then that must be it. He said the further I go away from you, the weaker the connection, or something, and that you're going to need my advice."

He stared up at George and shrugged, as though that was a perfectly reasonable amount of explanation. George raised his eyebrows.

"So… I'm the one making you come back. I'm the reason you're here. And it's probably because of this necklace," he was saying the words slowly, almost to himself, as though confirming the thoughts in his head.

Fred nodded. "And, Dumbledore mentioned - well, I think he meant this - the case. Bandersnatch's murder."

George's expression changed instantly. He stared meaningfully at his twin. "The murder?" he asked. "Dumbledore talked about it?"

"Well, not in so many words, I suppose," said Fred, standing up again and removing his hand from his stomach. "He said 'your friends are on the right track', but that we don't know how serious it is. That the whole situation is a bit bigger than we realise."

"Wow." George's eyes widened. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"When am I ever not?"

"Dumbledore is involved, isn't he?" George breathed. "Otherwise, how else would he know the reason behind the murders?"

Fred frowned. "You think he knows who did it?" he asked, and the other nodded. "Well, if that's true - why didn't he just tell me?"

His twin shrugged. "He's Dumbledore, isn't he? That's not really his style. Besides, I was thinking something else as well: if you can go back and talk to Dumbledore, maybe you could find Bandersnatch and -" He stopped, seeing Fred shaking his head.

"No don't do, I'm afraid," Fred sighed. "It doesn't really work that way."

George looked slightly crestfallen at his words, but nodded all the same, and Fred suddenly felt rather deflated. He crossed to the other side of the room, then leaned against the wall opposite George, folding his arms and chewing on his lower lip again. The clock on the wall beside him ticked softly through the ensuing silence. George glanced at the time.

"Nearly half ten," he remarked absently. Then, "Merlin's beard, I left Lee on his own in the shop. I better get back down there. Um -" he looked over at Fred, who was raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, don't worry about me," Fred told him. "You go on. I've got plenty to think about up here…"

Weasley and Weasley(Deceased)-Chapter 3!

Read Chapter-2!
"And things just got interesting…"

George's gaze whipped round to see Fred leaning against the edge of the desk. He ignored him.

"What do you mean, 'he's dead'?" he asked Angelina, who now had tears in her eyes. "Who - your boss?"

The girl nodded. "We found him this morning - well, not me, one of the guys who works there. Said he was just lying splayed out in the middle of the shop floor, surrounded by all the wreckage. It looks like there was a bit of a fight."

"Are the Aurors there?" Lee asked her.

"What? No, I don't think so… not yet, anyway," Angelina pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and began wiping her face. She sniffed. "I'm not even sure if they'll be called in. A lot of people seem to think he just got a bit too upset about someone hanging around the shop or something - they all know how paranoid he is, you see. I mean 'was'." She sniffed again. "Oh, look at me," she said in a clearer voice, shaking her head as though to stop herself crying. "Getting so upset about it, I didn't even really like the guy -" She clapped a hand to her mouth, the tears reappearing. "Oh God, I know that's a terrible thing to say about someone who's just died…"

"Don't worry about it," George said consolingly, putting his arm around her. "He once tried to kill me for accidentally setting free a couple of Snitches." From somewhere behind him came a snort. "I don't think anyone'll really miss him."

"Great," said Angelina sarcastically, frowning at George. "That makes me feel so much better." She sighed. "Do you think that's why no one's taking his death seriously? I mean - nobody I've spoken to seems to want to hear about the stuff that's been stolen."

"Yeah, probably…" said George slowly. Then it was his turn to frown, putting his head on one side and narrowing his eyes. "What about that, anyway? I mean, how do you know the stuff was nicked?"

Angelina blew her nose into the handkerchief. "I saw the journal there just the other day, he was scribbling something into it. And I knew it wasn't the accounts book or the records or anything. Plus," she lowered her voice slightly, the other two leaning closer to hear her. "One of the neighbours said they heard this strange rattling, squeaking sound coming from the house some time this morning - about one or two o'clock. They said it sounded like a load of Sneakoscopes being set off, and, well - I'm willing to bet that that's exactly what it was. He had loads of them, and other Dark Detectors set up around the place." She now had a sort of determined tone in her voice. "It was murder. I'm sure of it. He was paranoid about something, and I think it - or they - finally caught up with him. The only question is," here she looked meaningfully from George to Lee, "who, and why?"

All three of them were quiet for a moment, contemplating Angelina's words and the possibility of such a thing having occurred. A murder? Of the bloke who ran the Quidditch supplies place? Why on earth would anyone want to do that?

With the other two distracted by this thought, George risked a look behind him at Fred. His twin was still leaning against the stand, watching the three of them with an unreadable expression. His eyes were lingering on Angelina. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, George shifted his gaze sideways and noticed what it was that Fred was standing beside - the black and yellow boxes of spy glasses.

A thought struck him. "Um, Angelina?" The girl looked up. "Do you know if he had time to set up those -" he pointed to the spy glasses "- because they would probably tell us something…" He knew the answer before she began her response.

"They smashed them, whoever they were," she said grimly. "Another piece of evidence that this wasn't just an accident. The Ministry've just seen a messed-up shop, they haven't noticed that the only things that were destroyed in his flat are the Dark Detectors and his spying equipment. No one would bother going upstairs to destroy all that stuff if they were just in it for a laugh, or if it was an accident. They wouldn't know it was there in the first place, unless…" she trailed off, a slightly misty look in her eyes. "Unless they worked for him. Or knew him, and had been there before. That's the only way they could know about the spy stuff, or his log books, or anything else." She sighed again, and uttered the question all three (four including Fred) had been thinking. "But why kill him? I mean, I know he annoyed people, but surely there was no motive to murder him?"

Lee shrugged. "Maybe - all his spying and stuff had ticked off the Ministry?" he suggested. "And that's why they're not putting much effort into the case, because it was them who did it?"

"It's possible, I suppose…" breathed Angelina, moving away from the other two. She began chewing her bottom lip in a thoughtful manner. "Or maybe he was caught spying on someone in a higher place?"

The bell behind them jangled into life and several customers rushed into the shop, all of them looking excited and chattering noisily. George blinked himself out of his reverie. "Um, sorry, Angelina," he began feebly. "Work, you know…" The girl nodded resignedly, turning towards the door. She still looked so miserable and confused that George found he didn't want her to leave. "Look -" he called, catching her just before she left the shop. "We'll think about this, ok? Let us know what the Ministry decide, and, you know - we've had experience solving mysteries before," he smiled reassuringly. "Come back and tell us what happens."

The last sentence didn't come out quite as casually as he had wanted it to, and he thought there was something knowing about Angelina's smile as she swept out of the shop. He suddenly cringed, feeling his insides shrivel, and did everything he possibly could not to look at Fred.

Feeling too dizzy to Apparate, he dashed upstairs.

"Hey!" Lee called after him. "You're leaving me with these -"

"Sorry!" George yelled back. "Back in a moment." He hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him to stop Fred following. Too late.

"What was that?" Fred was standing by the sink, his mouth tight, his eyes hard.

George tried to look as though he had no idea why his twin might be so angry. "What?" he asked, though without any conviction.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "What?" he said acidly. "Ignoring me, for one. Putting your arm around her, whispering in her ear. 'Come back and tell us what happens!' Staring after her like some lovesick puppy."

"I really don't know what you're talking about," George replied, and he sounded like he meant it this time. "Angelina and I are old friends - you know that. I didn't treat her any differently than I did at school."

"There's a difference," Fred snapped, and George was alarmed at how annoyed he looked. He didn't think Fred had ever looked so angry with him in his whole life. "Angelina and I weren't as close when we were at school." Fred folded his arms. "What exactly have you two been up to while I've been - you know - dead?"

George now looked something close to horrified. "It's not like that!" he exclaimed. "Really, it's not. The first time I've seen her since - since then, was yesterday. She's my friend and she was upset. What was I supposed to do?" He stared pleadingly at his twin. "I mean it, it wasn't like that. She was your girlfriend."

"Right," said Fred quietly, but he was no longer looking at George. His next words sounded bitter. "Anything else I've missed?" he asked, staring around the tiny bathroom. "Lee going out with a Hungarian Horntail?"

"Percy's getting married," George said quickly. This seemed to instantly lighten Fred's mood.

"No way," he laughed. "Percy?! Since when?"

George grinned. "He's really changed, you wouldn't believe it. It's like the last three years never happened. You remember how hopelessly romantic he was about that Clearwater girl in our fourth year?"

Fred nodded, smirking. "Don't know if you'd exactly describe it as 'romantic'," he said. "More just 'hopeless'."

"Well," George continued, "he met this girl in his new job. Stephanie Millground, I think she's called. He's still at the Ministry, but in a different department," he added, seeing Fred's curious expression. "And he decided he'd be all romantic again, and asked her to marry him after about six weeks."

"Probably knew that if he waited any longer she'd figure out what he was actually like," Fred joked, but it sounded half-hearted. To hide the slight frown creeping across his face, he asked, "When did this happen?"

"About two months ago," George said. "Mum's been a nightmare, as you can imagine." Once again, the mention of Mum had earned Fred an even deeper frown. George bit his lip. "But everyone's mostly really excited. Hey - maybe you could come to the wedding."

Fred laughed, but the sound was a little sour. "Yeah, maybe… Hey, um, how's Verity, by the way? I've noticed she doesn't work here anymore."

"Oh," George looked a little taken aback by the question. "Er, well, I haven't really seen her since before the war ended. After her parents' place was attacked - you remember?" Fred nodded. "Well, after that she sort of just wanted to be with the rest of her family. We never really officially broke up, but… she sent me a few letters, but then stopped replying to mine. It's been a bit difficult catching up with people, you know? Most people -" he stopped, as though only just realising what he was saying. Then he sighed. If he couldn't talk about it to Fred, who could he talk to? "Most people avoid me because of what happened to you," he said quickly.

His twin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know…" George shrugged. "They all just look at me like I might suddenly burst into tears at any minute. Or burst into flame, I don't know. Angelina - when she came in the other day - was exactly the same. She had this really sympathetic look in her eyes and she was asking me how I was feeling and…" he trailed off. "Lee's the only one who's been relatively normal. He came to see me a few weeks after - after it all ended, offered to help me keep the shop going." He suddenly tapped the side of his head, where a dark patch marked the place where his ear should be. "And they all can't keep their eyes off this, either," he groaned. "I'd put a glamour or something on it, if I wasn't so proud." He grinned, and, to his relief, Fred grinned back.

"I think it's very becoming," Fred said. Then, "Well - don't you have work to do? A shop to run? My memory to keep alive?" An accusatory look suddenly crossed his face. "You haven't changed the shop name, have you?"

"No!" George cried, sounding slightly offended. "Of course not."

"Good," said Fred, relieved. "Because 'Weasley and Jordan's Wizard Wheezes' sounds rubbish." He made a shooing gesture. "Right, off you go. Earn us some money."

George's grin widened, then went out of the bathroom and towards the stairs. "Aren't you coming?" he queried, seeing that Fred was now sitting on the end of his bed instead of following him.

"Nah." Fred put his hands behind his head and leant back nonchalantly. "It's a bit boring being invisible. I can't talk to anyone - or you, because people'll think you're a nutter." His green eyes swept over the ceiling.

"What, can't you leave the shop?" George asked him. "I'd've thought being invisible would be your dream power…"

Fred laughed. "Yeah, it probably would be, as well. But no, for some reason I can't go out of the shop. I tried - thought I'd have a wander down Diagon Alley, for old times' sake, you know. But, as I got further away I felt sort of… wobbly."

"Wobbly?" George wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah…" Fred tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Wobbly." He shrugged. "So I think I think I'll just stay up here, if that's alright with you. All my stuff's still here, I'll just stay and - I don’t know - reminisce."

He flashed his twin a mischievous smile, though as George turned to go back downstairs, he had the uncomfortable impression that the smile hadn't quite reached Fred's eyes.

~***~

They still had not heard anything from Angelina two days later, but that didn't stop George and Lee discussing the murder of Mr. Bandersnatch, the Quidditch supplies shop manager, whenever they had a spare moment.

"Do you really think it was murder?"

"Definitely - didn't you hear what Angelina said about the log books?"

"D'you reckon he really was being watched?"

"After all those threatening notes? Blackmailed, more like."

"Do you really think so?"

"Well, he was paranoid about something, wasn't he? And then there were all those rumours about him storing stuff for goblins all those years ago."

"What?" George had slammed his cup down onto the desk in surprise, simultaneously frightening a small girl who had been waiting for Lee to hand over her change. He grinned apologetically at the girl, but this just seemed to make her even more terrified. She grabbed the money from Lee and ran out of the shop.

Lee sat back in his chair. "Yeah, a couple of years back," he told George, with the air of recanting a childhood memory, "there was all this stuff in the Prophet about a local 'broomstick vendor' (it was obviously him, by the way) being asked to hold some important items for Gringotts. I think, but I'm not sure, that Dumbledore was involved. This would have been, oh, right before he - you know - died, I think. Anyway - it wasn't really to do with Dumbledore, I think they just stuck a well-known name in there to make the story seem interesting. Apparently the stuff being held used to belong to him, I don't know. They probably made it up - associating Dumbledore with goblins and other suspicious creatures was something they used to do a lot." Lee took a long gulp of tea and set his empty mug down on the desk. "I mean, it could be that he wouldn't give the stuff back and the goblins got a bit riled. Trashing a shop is exactly the sort of thing they'd do if they were really desperate to find something."

George said nothing, turning over Lee's words in his mind. If there really were goblins involved, then things would certainly become a lot more dangerous if he, Lee and Angelina started trying to dig things up about them. What Angelina had said about the shopkeeper being paranoid about somebody watching him would definitely fit: when the goblins had been tailing Bagman about the Quidditch World Cup money they had followed him everywhere.

He felt a pang as he thought about the Quidditch World Cup - how he and Fred had bet all that money and never got it back. He and Fred.

"I'm, um, going on my lunch break now," he told Lee, standing up.

"Right," the other replied, staring at a group of boys hovering around the Fake Wands. "Do they look suspicious to you?" he asked vaguely. George shrugged, then Apparated upstairs.

Fred was lying on his bed, surrounded by heaps of folded parchment. George didn't have to look any closer to know that they were Angelina's old letters.

"Oi," said his twin roughly. "Knock before entering." He rolled over to look at George and his face split into a grin. "How's business?"

George took in a deep breath, sinking down onto his own bed. "Fine," he replied. "Lee told me something interesting about Mr. Quidditch supplies corpse."

"Oh yeah?" Fred raised an eyebrow, sitting up and pushing the letters aside.

"Yep. Apparently there was all this stuff in the Daily Prophet a couple of years ago about him and some goblins. He was storing stuff for them. Lee reckons they might have wanted it back."

Fred nodded perceptively. "Yeah, well, we know what they're like when they want something, don't we? Remember Bagman?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," said George. "And Lee says he thinks Dumbledore might have been involved."

"Dumbledore?" Fred was now frowning hard at the floor. Then he got up, moved over to the shelves by his bed and pulled out a large, leather-bound scrapbook. He flipped it open to a page covered in black scribbles and random boxes, grabbed a quill from his bedside table and began writing.

George eyed him curiously. "What's that?"

"It's all the stuff about the murder," Fred replied, still scrawling. He looked up at his brother's raised eyebrows. "What? I need something to do, don't I?"

"Turned private eye, have you?"

Fred laughed. "Well, being that nobody can see or hear me, and I can watch whoever I want," he said, "I think I pretty much embody the title."

And Chapter 4!

The Latest Controversy

Well.... the silver doe promised a post on the latest controversy surrounding Dumbledore,; but hasn't done so... probably because she vanished ( Whether it was Lily or Snape who cast her initially is still under speculation !). So its up to Fawkes once again to come to the rescue, or this blog will become redundant like so many others.

In my opinion, Dumbledore isnt gay. Not that I have anything against it, but just that it sounds a little out of place with the story. When I read the book, it came across to me as that Dumbledore, being brilliant, needed some like-minded company; especially after the tradegies that struck his family. Someone with such a brilliant mind would obviously feel trapped in those circumsatnces, since he was saddled with the responsibilty of taking care of the family. Dumbledore being Dumbledore, the thought of deserting his family for his personal goals would have been appalling; but none-the-less, he would have felt let-down after what he had seen for his future and what he was left with ultimately. So it only stands to reason that when he met Grindelwald, he must have seen it as a chance to live his dreams; if not in person,then by discussing them with his new-found, equally brilliant friend.

But I dont think this means that he "fell in love "; to put it sooo eloquently (ahem !) with Grindelwald. Just because we meet someone like-minded and become really good friends and discuss plans together doesnt mean that they're in love. The thought doesnt come across as very real or even expected. Suffice to say, the thought didnt fall into place like others stated by Mrs.Rowling. It didnt click with the facts provided in the book.

Do I hear anyone seconding the motion ??