A/N#1: Hello you crazy fuckers I call readers! Welcome to my wonderful imagination of craziness and craze! In this story I warn of possible future mature content, because honestly I don't trust myself.

Anywho! Enjoy the story! ;]

~†~

The Quidditch World Cup had finished. Fans crowded back to their tiny tents along the hillside near the stadium to either lick their wounds or celebrate all night. The Irish broke out their tunes, colors, and choice beverages while the Bulgarians retreated solemnly to their tents or left altogether.

It was a cause for celebration seeing as it was their first win with the World Cup, and their greatest victory against the Bulgarians. Despite Victor Krum catching the snitch, their chasers and keeper were still better, giving them the advantage they knew they had. Sure, Krum was a good seeker, but no one could doubt that the rest of their team was rather shoddy. Even down to their beaters.

Now as the celebrations and moping continues throughout the camp site, one particular tent is where our story always resides.

Tucked between a few larger tents sits a smaller one that looks on the verge of collapsing, but still manages to support itself. Noises can be heard inside, laughter mixed with the music of the Irish and the clang of pots and pints.

Hooting and whistles that were far out of pitch resounded to the outside of the tent, drawing snickers from passer byes.

Inside the tent the Weasley family with the additions of Harry and Hermione celebrate animatedly with the rest. The twins are the reason for the horrible keyed singing that goes along with the music that plays from no where, and every one else laughs in amusement at the doubles antics.

Mr. Weasely sets the fire under the kettle, and blows out the match. A noise from outside draws his attention, and just for the sake of safety he goes out to investigate with a hand on his wand.

"There's no one like Krum!" Ron exclaims with admiration as he comes from the kitchen, interrupting Fred and George's dancing and 'fiddle fluting.' George looks at his smaller brother with wide eyes as he puts down his improvised flute made of an Irish team flag.

Behind him Fred does the same, saying in an awed voice. "Krum?"

"Dumb Krum."

Ron continues with his tirade about the youngest seeker while the rest of the tent watches with amusement and wide grins. "He's like a bird that rides the wind," Around him Fred and George commence to flap their arms while going on in throaty voices "Krum!" "Dumb Krum!" "He's more than an athlete-" he cuts off to pull the flag Fred has just thrown over his head off, continuing with his speech. "- he's an artist!"

Ginny comes up from behind him and rubs his arm gently with a highly amused grin on her face. "Think you're in love, Ron." And moves away snickering.

"Oh, shut up." He says, blushing.

Both twins go on without missing a beat, well aware of the shit eating grin Harry is sporting.

"Victor, I love you-"

"Victor I do!"

The three of them chorus together:

"When we're apart my heart beats only for you!"

They all break out in fits of laughter, Fred hitting Ron with a cushion which starts a pillow fight between him and Fred.

Outside the tents the noises get louder, and George looks at the entry way with a large grin.

"Sounds like the Irish 've got their pride on!" He then picks up a pillow to join in the fight commencing between Fred and Ron, but is stopped when his father comes running into the room.

"Stop! Stop it!" He grabs Fred and Ron's arm to get their attention, and George stops as he notices the glint of panic in his fathers eye when he turns to him and places a hand on his own arm. "It's not the Irish."

He moves over to Ginny, and George notices the noises outside becoming louder and more chaotic. "We've got to get out of here." Mr. Weasley says, and Harry looks up at him with worry at the situation.

"Now!"

They all jump to attention, Fred moving over to George, grabbing his arm in reassurance as they move out of the tent, prepared to run like hell. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have already exited the tent in front of them. Once they exit the twins stop in their tracks, staring at the sight in horror.

Everywhere people are running and screaming from fires and hexes that have spread throughout the camp site.

George turns to his right, unconsciously away from his other half.

"Get back to the port-key every one and stick together!" The words didn't reach his ears as he took in the destruction surrounding him. "Fred! George!" Their names being exclaimed pulled him back to attention. "Ginny is your responsibility! GO!"

Fred barely had time to grab onto his sisters hand before a current of people rammed into them, pushing them away from wherever they had been. Bodies upon bodies moved passed them, and he found himself and Ginny moving along with them. Her screams as people fell around them from the gaining Death Eaters motivated him to move on, that and adrenaline, but something was wrong. He didn't know what but he knew he had to get his sister and George- wait...

George!

His head whipped around as he was moved away, looking for his twins head of shock red hair. No where, he couldn't find him anywhere! Only the nameless faces of the crowd as they ran for their lives.

"George!" He screamed, hoping his voice would carry. "GEORGE!"

"Fred!" His sisters voice wailed, and he felt her being pushed away from him too. "NO!" She screamed, reaching out for him through the flocks of people.

"Ginny! No!" Fred yelled and tried to reach for her hand, but he was being pushed back, back towards the Death Eaters. But that didn't matter. He was separated from his family, from his sister, from George! He'd failed the one thing that Dad had given him responsibility for.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Dad had only given him and George the task of looking after Ginny, but personally George was his task too. He was supposed to look after them both.

Guilt washed over him as he tried to fight through the crowd back to Ginny while looking around for George. He couldn't, no, he wouldn't fail at this! The one time he's told to take things into his own hands and look after his family... He's failed...

Despair overtook him as he trips over someone in the crowd. Fighting instinct kicked in as the numerous feet of people kicked him in several places in their rush to save their lives. A final blow to the head and his world goes black.

I'm sorry George...

~†~

George ached all over. The mixture of the wood on top of him and the burns on his arms and legs was enough to make him want to scream out in pain, but the added constriction of his bruised ribs denied him that. All he could do was lie there as the fires dimmed down around him and stay still as a Death Eater passed him.

His eyes remained closed, and he didn't dare move a muscle out of fear of exposing himself by either screaming or just the movement alone.

After being unintentionally separated from Fred he'd traveled with the crowd away from the Death Eaters while looking for his twin, or any part of his family. But his search didn't go for very long when he was hit by one of the Death Eaters' hex's that threw him into a smoldering tent.

He had screamed, loudly, from the fire as it burned his skin, and as one of the support pegs dug into his side. George couldn't hear anything now except for the far away screams of people and the crackling of the dying fires around him.

I'm sorry George...

What? Fred?

His brothers voice in his head causes his body to jerk slightly in surprise, jostling the piece of wood above him and aggravating the burns he can feel. Wherever Fred's voice came from he didn't care, it was the lack of response that had him terrified.

It couldn't mean that he was... George felt as though he was going to be sick.

FRED! NO!

No... No, no, no... NO! He wasn't dead! He just wasn't! He would know if the other half of his soul were to be gone like that!

Maybe he had just lost consciousness. It was hardly any better because that meant he was hurt... Oh Merlin he hoped Fred was okay...

From somewhere he heard a large clang as someone pushed or kicked some debris, and George stilled any movement that he may have been making. Another clang, then silence.

"Morsmordre!"

Terror over took George, and he didn't know why, but a sharp and foreboding hiss sent goose bumps up his arms and made the hairs on his neck stand up. He heard some more foot steps that sounded like running, and they were coming towards him!

He went as stiff as a board, not daring to move even though his body was screaming in pain from his muscles tensing. His heart jumped out of his chest and started beating even quicker when the footsteps were right behind him.

The person's foot kicked a beam that had been holding up more debris which then toppled over, landing on him.

Screams of pain were threatening to break loose of his throat, but he knew if he made a noise before the man was gone he would be dead.

"Harry!" The yelling of his little brother's friend were faint from where he lay, and he couldn't make any noise until the man was gone.

Suddenly there were more yells, panicked yells, coming from where they were.

"STOP! That's my son!"

Thank Merlin, Dad!

His fathers voice was music to his ears, but now all he had to do was build up the voice to yell his name, to get their attention! He could faintly hear an argument of some sort, but that was drowned out as he heard multiple foot steps coming his way.

George opened his eyes to try and see who it was, but all he could see was his bloodied hand next to his head, he was facing away from them. Helplessly he looked down at his hand, and screamed at the sight of the blood pooled under him.

The scream brought more pain in his rib cage and his voice cracked before taking on a new fervor. Now his howls of agony were causing his throat to hurt, and the world around him became distant. His mind was pulling away from his body, and he blacked out just he heard Harry and his Dad.

"Fred!"

He would have laughed that they mistook him for his twin, but that meant they didn't know where Fred was. That thought alone was enough to cause tears to streak down his ashen face.

~†~

Harry could only stand and stare in the horror that was Fred or George's body. He didn't know which one it was, but he'd rather it wasn't either. But there was no mistaking the too long red hair and sweater that both had been wearing earlier when everything seemed so happy and normal.

Mr. Weasely dropped to his knees next his now silent son. Oh, God, that sound every one had heard when the twin had screamed out.

"George! No, no! Wake up!" Arthur put his hands on either side of his son's still face, and reeled at how cold it was.

Ron, who stood beside Harry, went to where his father was next to his brother. The fear on his paled face was enough to make Harry want to be sick. How could this have happened to George when he had been with Fred and Ginny?

... Oh no... Where were they?

Harry's head whipped around the place, looking for any sign of the other twin and their only sister.

"What is it Harry?" Hermione's shaky voice pulls him from his search. He looks at her with wide and fearful eyes that causes her to gasp slightly.

"Where's Fred and Ginny?" Both Ron and Arthur look at him in horror. Mr. Weasely seems to regain his senses.

"Ron! You Harry and Hermione go with George to St. Mungo's, I'll stay here and find them." He stands from George's body and turned to where the ministry agents were searching for the caster of Morsmordre.

"Barty!" The man looks up from where he is searching and runs stiffly to them. Mr. Weasely doesn't give him a chance to speak. "Get one of your men to take Ron, Harry, Hermione, and George to St. Mungo's." He demands.

Mr. Crouch seems like he wants to reprimand Arthur for speaking to him in such a way, but turns to one of his men and directs them to apparate the teens to the hospital. A bulky agent steps forward and directs the teens towards him.

"Hold each others hands, I will have to side-apparate all of you and I don't want to loose someone or splinch them."

Harry shook his head fiercely. "No, I'm staying to help find Fred and Ginny."

Arthur turned to look at him with worry and disapproval. "Harry, please, go with them."

Again he shakes his head. "I'm sorry Mr. Weasely, but I can't. I can't leave you here alone to find something... Unpleasant..." Even as he said the words he could see the fear in Mr. Weasely's eyes.

Arthur, knowing harry and his determination, nods. Behind him the ministry agent apparates Ron, George, and Hermione away to St. Mungo's, and they begin their search.

~†~

A/N#2: Well!... Let's see how things go, shall we? It's a rainy day here so I might work on the second chapter after I read the 22 Assassin's Creed updates I've been ignoring. ^^;

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