Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes

The wake was over now. It had been a time of tears and reminiscences, but there had been much laughter as well. George climbed the steep, rickety staircase to the room he and Fred had always shared whenever they returned to The Burrow, and pushed open the door. It was still full of the familiar untidy jumble of books, Quidditch posters, and old catalogues for 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes'.

He picked up a pad of order forms and threw them onto the desk. The business wouldn't be the same now – they had dreamed up the idea of the joke shop together, and had spent many hours in this room inventing fake wands, sweets that had some very interesting side effects, and exploding quills. The rest of the family had become quite used to the thunderous bangs which erupted from time to time. But Fred would have wanted him to continue.

"It won't be the same without you," he told a picture of the two of them, dressed in their Quidditch robes. In the picture, Fred shrugged and grinned.

Turning back to the order forms, George waved his wand over them, and the top page shimmered.

It now read 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'.