Through the Pages of Time: Joey’s Hogwarts Tale

Fred hadn't expected that what he'd seen in the old mirror would ever come true. After that first glimpse, he'd returned to the empty classroom on the fourth floor, only to find the mirror gone. He'd felt a pang of disappointment. He'd wanted to relive the beauty of that first kiss, to see the image in the mirror once more.

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Winter at Hogwarts was always long, and the frozen surface of the Black Lake became a playground for the Gryffindor boys. They'd jump onto the ice, using their wands to steer chunks of ice into each other. Harry and Ron's group had collided with the twins' ice floe, sending shards of ice flying. The four of them had thrown their scarves and hats into the lake, only to have them tossed back onto the shore by a giant tentacle.

Joey and Hermione had been watching from the shore, laughing until they were hit by the flying scarves.

"That must've been the giant octopus!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement. "Hagrid said there are a few of them in the lake, with tentacles as thick as magical vines!"

"Ha! Just remember to flash a Lumos if it grabs you!" Harry teased, laughing.

"Come on, you only got past the chessboard because of Hermione!" Ron shot back. "And without my sacrifice, you wouldn't have made it past the giant chess set!"

"The Mirror of Erised?" Fred's ears perked up at the mention of the mirror. He'd seen that name somewhere before.

"Oh!" Ron and Harry clapped their hands over their mouths, but it was too late. George, who'd been waiting for the perfect moment, smashed their ice floe, sending both boys tumbling into the freezing lake.

"Ah! It's freezing!"

"Hahaha!"

"Harry! Ron!"

Hermione rushed to the edge of the lake, trying to find a way to help them, but they were too far out. Joey, meanwhile, was doubled over with laughter, watching the two boys flail in the water like drowned turkeys.

George and Fred circled Harry and Ron on their ice floes, taunting them until the boys finally admitted defeat. Only then did the twins mercifully haul them back to shore.

Ron and Harry were soaked, their teeth chattering as Fred dried them off with a quick spell. Ron's nose was already running, and Hermione scolded the twins as she dragged him off to the hospital wing.

"Your games are too dangerous! You're going to get them sick!" she snapped.

George leaned on Fred's shoulder, shouting after her, "A little cold builds character!"

But Fred's mind was elsewhere. The Mirror of Erised. He remembered now—that was the name on the old mirror. Harry and Ron knew where it was.

A few days later, Fred cornered Harry and Ron in the bathroom, lifting them off the ground and demanding, "Where's the Mirror of Erised you mentioned the other day?"

The two boys exchanged a glance, then played dumb. "We don't know what you're talking about!"

"Cut the act! I heard you talking about it. No magic vines, no wizard chess—just tell me where it is, and I'll give you ten magical tracking snowballs!"

"Deal!" Ron agreed immediately.

Harry and Ron spilled the details, warning Fred about the three-headed dog guarding the mirror. That night, after George had fallen asleep, Fred sneaked out with the Marauder's Map and made his way to the third-floor corridor.

The corridor was dark, the only light coming from the tip of Fred's wand. He moved quietly, the statues along the walls occasionally creaking, sending shivers down his spine. But the thrill of the adventure kept him going. He found the door Harry had described and muttered, "Alohomora."

The door creaked open, revealing the massive three-headed dog, Fluffy. The beast's heads perked up, but instead of barking, they wagged their tails and rolled onto their backs, tongues lolling.

"Not now, Fluffy," Fred said, scratching one of the heads. "I need to get to the trapdoor. Move your paw."

The dog obliged, and Fred jumped down into the tunnel below. He landed on a bed of devil's snare, which quickly retreated when he cast a Lumos spell. The first obstacle was cleared.

Next came the flying keys. Fred grabbed the right one and unlocked the door, narrowly escaping the swarm of angry keys. "Cheap brooms," he muttered, tossing the old broom aside.

The chessboard was next. Fred studied the pieces, quickly figuring out the strategy. He won the game, though not without a few close calls. "Professor McGonagall, you're a genius," he said, admiring the enchanted chess set.

The troll in the next room was asleep, but Fred's loud victory woke it up. Without hesitation, Fred levitated the troll's club and knocked it out cold. "Harry's method works like a charm," he said, stepping over the unconscious troll.

The final challenge was a series of potions. Fred stared at the seven bottles, trying to remember Harry's instructions. "Second bottle from the left... or was it the right?" He finally decided to look for the bottles with the least amount of liquid, reasoning that those were the ones Harry and Ron had used. Luckily, he was right.

Fred drank the potion and stepped through the black flames, finally finding the Mirror of Erised. His heart raced as he approached it, straightening his robes as if preparing for a grand occasion. He hoped the mirror would show him Joey again.

The mirror's surface began to fog up, which Fred found odd. "Is it broken?" he wondered, stepping closer. But as the fog cleared, his breath caught in his throat.

The image in the mirror wasn't what he'd expected. It wasn't just Joey—it was Joey in a white wedding dress, lying on top of a red-haired man. Fred recognized the man as himself, older and more mature. Joey wore a beautiful crown, one Fred recognized as his aunt's prized elven hairpiece.

Fred's heart pounded as he watched the scene unfold. The older Fred gently kissed Joey, his hands moving to her shoulders, sliding the dress down. Joey's expression was shy but willing, her beauty like a white tulip swaying in the mist.

Fred's breath quickened, his face flushing. A trickle of warmth ran from his nose, and he realized he was bleeding. He wiped it away, his mind racing. He finally understood what his father meant when he called his mother "Mollywobbles."

Joey was his "Joeywobbles."