Part 1
Twin-killing stars
" Molly, dear! " whispered Mr Weasley.
He took a few more steps into the room, carefully trying to balance his weight off the creaking floor boards.
Mrs Weasley stirred.
Her body was crouched between the old armchair and the bed.
Her head hung awkwardly in midair.
Finally he reached the bedside.
After he put down the tray, carrying two steaming mugs and a number of remarkable uneven cutted appleslices onto the bedside table, he gently placed his hand on his wifes' shoulder.
By his touch Mrs Weasley flinched so hard that she almost send the tray behind her flying to the ground.
She trembled and moaned as her sad eyes found his. She grabbed his hand and hold it tight to her thumping chest.
"Arthur!"
She sighed.
" I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to scare you!"
" I know..I know!"
"It's just.." he stroked her cheek lovingly " you've been up here for the last 16 hours again...you should get some rest! He's sleeping now!"
Her eyes already protested while her dry mouth not yet found the words for her defence.
"I know you want to stay by his side..." Mr Weasley seized his chance to try and say what he ought to say,
feeling the senselessness growing on every word he spoke.
"...but you need all your strengh for tomorrow!"
" I think his fever's come back!"
Her trembling fingers were busy fuzzing over Georges sweaty forehead.
" That's not possible. You know that the healer took care of it, the fever AND the dreams...he's fast asleep!"
"What if he wakes up? He shouldn't be alone!"
" I'll stay!"
Her heavy eyes filled with tears. She stared at her son...
She couldn't stand it.
No, it was too horrible.
"I can't stand it, Arthur. I can't...can't leave him!"
She shook her head as if the bare thought of leaving George was so painful she had to get rid of it immediatly.
Her left hand nervously found George's to clutch it, while her slowly dripping tears commenced to create a wet spot on the sheet.
George let out a grunting snore and turned his head the other way.
Mr Weasley went on his knees beside his wife and handed her one of the warm mugs.
" It was worth a try...here, have some tea!"
He placed his arm around her neck and joined in her silent weeping.
So they sat until Mrs Weasley finally found sleep in her husband's arms.
After a while his whole body started to get a bit numb but Mr Weasley did not dare to move one finger.
His head rested against the bedside table, his view fixed upon the little window to his right, following some of the fine grey clouds passing by the otherwise clear nightsky until his eyes focused and absorbed the wonderfully comforting twinkles of the stars.
No, he couldn't stand the thought of it either.
But even more he simply couldn't believe it.
There was this damn familiar mistrust, the alarming feeling, that itch in his stomach which usually indicated that there was something tremendously wrong and most likely some trouble ahead involving Fred and George.
It was the same he'd had each time there was not a single noise leaving this room on which sooted floor he had himself currently perched on.
He dozed off.
At first he thought George had one of his feverish dreams again, but when he turned his head to look at the source of the strange mumbling,he discovered his son right awake and wide-eyed staring out the window while tiny twinkleing light reflections dancing over his irides.
The sounds he made seemed slightly familiar...he was singing.
In fact it apeared to be "twinkle twinkle little star" ( a muggle song that had found its way into the bedrooms of many infant witches and wizards a long time ago ) as far as he remembered that melody.
Mr Weasley frowned curiousley and hold his breath to make out the faint words.
An icy shiver creeping down his spine as he did.
There was something deeply discomforting fey and eerie about George while his slightly smirking lips let out the more or less melodic words:
"Twin-kill, twin-kill little star
How I wonder where you are.
Up above the world so high?
Like a diamond in the sky?
bla bla bla bla
Twin-kill, twin-kill, little star.
How I wonder where you are.
How I wonder where you are..."
George turned his head and looked at him with twinkeling eyes and that strange smirk.
Mr Weasley realised, with his frown of irritation back on his forehead, that there was something disturbingly different about his eyes.
But he wouldn't be able to describe what it was exactly.
Still humming, George freed himself from the mountain of blankets, his mother had burried him under, and stood up.
"Where're you going ?"
Suddenly alarmed, Mr Weasley stiffened.
"For a flight."
George was forced to realize just how weak he was. His wobbly legs threatened to be unable to hold his weight.
Mr Weasley fought the urge to jump up and grab hold of his unsteady kid by bethinking the sleeping obstacle in his arms.
And instead of inducing a drama he gave him an sceptical look and whispered.
"And you reckon you'd make it up the broom like this?"
"Staying on would be my previous concern. I'll take a shot of your good old Dragon Pureburn's for warming up my limbs if you don't mind. "
George send him a weak grin while supporting himself with shivery fingers along the wall towards the door.
"I need to get some fresh air..."
His father's eyes followed his unsteady steps with concern but knew perfectly well that there were very few things which were as liberating, consoling,and mind easing as flying.
"Grab a coat and don't go too far."
George nodded, waggly made it out the door at a snail's pace while he wondered if he might be quicker going backwards and with that thought just realizing how confused he was.
wWw
"YOU LET HIM GO FOR A WHAAAAT?"
"A flight yes, thoght it might be good for him..."
"WERE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"
" Calm down!"
"CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN MY CHILD IS FLYING AROUND PROBABLY SMASHING HIS HEAD ON THE NEXT MOUNTAIN CLIFF THIS INSTANT?"
"Have some confidence. They're...he is an excellent flyer..."
"ARTHUR, HE'S NOT WELL!"
"I KNOW, THAT' S WHY I LET HIM GO IN THE FIRST PLACE..."
Mr Weasley didn't mean to raise his voice but he let the tention make him loose his temper for a moment."...to feel better..."
He instantly felt sorry for it but already Mrs Weasley's voice broke off into gasping sobs and because she wasn't able to say another word, she threw herself on the bed howling with all her heart and misery.
Mr Weasley whom the sorrow was carved into the face sunk on the blanket beside her and tried to pet her back.
She shook him off and made it clear that right now she didn't want his comfort.
So he sat there in silence and watched the sun rise behind the distant hills, wondering wether he had done the right thing or not.
"What's going on?"
Ginny poked her head through the door a couple of moments later.
Mr Weasley wasn't in a state to say or explain anything right now so he simply sighed and let his wife's wailing speak for itself.
Ginny entered the room.
"Where's George?"
She asked, but did not get any answer except a slight nod towards the window.
She hurried towards her mother, started to kiss and stroke her head.
The tight knot in her chest ached terribly.
"We'll have to go in a few hours, Dad...and..." Ginny whispered trying not to let her mother's sobbing infect her.
"... we still don't really know what to do after the ceremony." her voice trembled and she felt her lower lip tighten.
" After last night nobody dares to ask him anything." a little sullen she added " ...but now he disappeared anyway..."
His siblings had carefully proposed their idea of sending Fred's ashes into the sky with some glorious fireworks, to George the other night, believing it to be a wonderful and fitting way to honour his life but were shocked of George's sudden outburst of fury. It took them hours to finally calm him down and only by reassuring him over and over again that nobody would even dare so much as harm a hair on Fred's bodie's head.
" We got to respect that...he doesn't seem to be in any state to accept it yet...I doubt that any of us is...so we won't make such a big deal about that horrible burial-thing..."
" We just wanted to make it special..." Ginny wiped the tears from her face.
Mr Weasley nodded again, patted her arm and rised from the bed in order to make his way downstairs.
As he reached the bottom step of the staircase, he caught a glimpse through the open livingroom door and found most of his sons and Harry crowded infront of the old Family clock.
" Blimey...the whole time I was too bloody scared to look at it..." he heard, who sounded like Charlie, say.
The others murmured their agreement.
" ...yeah but what in Merlins name are they doing in Hogwarts?" wondered Bill.
" George? " Mr Weasley quickly stepped towards them feeling relieved not to have them talking about mortal peril or worse.
Their heads turned and they made room for their father to look at the clock.
" Yeah George , Dad...but FRED as well."
Ron pointed at their little golden hands which, as a matter of fact indicated that both of them were currently in SCHOOL.
Mr Weasley furrowed his brows and scratched his head, searching for an explanation.
" Maybe 'cause he died there...and the hand points out his last wherea-"
" - No it still moves."
His father looked at Ron in disbelieve.
" Last night I looked at it the first time and wondered why it pointed at HOME."
"Yeah I've seen it too!" assured Harry.
Mr Weasley blinked.
wWw
Coincidence? There's no such nonsense.
wWw
The wind managed to sweep away every single thought in his head, so faster and faster he went.
Shaking off the heavy chains of grief and sorrow with keen manoeuvres, George looked back over his shoulder and whistled.
" WHAT'S UP WITH YOU SLOW COACH ?" he screamed and looped the loop for his twin to catch up.
" WOOOHOOO!" Fred whizzed closer.
Now on the same level they synchronously squeezed out full speed of their Firebolts and dashed off into the night.
" You know what, I might have an idea!" Fred's voice trailed through the wheezing wind onto Georges ear " Let's see what Hogwarts has to offer !"
And with devilishly identical grins they gave their brooms a little drift to the North.
The most familiar skyline of the great castle spires finally loomed across the scottish higlands.
George's whole body was numb.
If there wasn't such a thing as principle sense in his head, he wouldn't even be sure if he still hold on to his broom or if the wind had trailed him off long time ago.
On the other hand was there really?
He turned his head to smile at his twin but instantly cringed so much that he almost lost his grib for real.
"FRED?" he cied out for there was just the empty broom whirring next to him.
There they were again those heavy weights pulling his body to the ground. And down he went with the second broom chasing after him.
He let himself fall on the soft grass as he hit the grounds of Hogwarts and spread out his,with the numbness slowly fading, now aching limbs.
He breathed heavily.
" There's got to be a way!" He whispered.
Somwhere in the distance he believed to hear a familiar cheery cackle.
" But lying around won't help us find it."
George just waited til he caught his breath.
The Firebolt, which was still floating about 3 feet above the ground assisted him to pull himself up.
With one broom in each hand, he marched into the forrest.
Heading towards a certain secret passageway which would lead him straight into the dungeons of Hogwarts.
He wasn't to keen to have anyone noticing that he was there.
It might be someone in the castle and flying to close to it or entering through a window would just increase the chances to be seen.
Besides, he might as well get the chance to nick some Bowtruckle resin on his way, for their stocks were very low and with the entrance being just next to an old oak tree full of those little buggers, it was only convenient.
( Bowtruckle resin was one of the key ingrediants for their cackle cookies.)
The sun slowly appeared on the horizen but little light made it through the narrow trees.
Back on the ground, George had difficulties keeping his legs from collapsing once more and he never remembered their brooms being so heavy but doubted that a weightless-cham would really do the diffrence.
He valiantly trudged on.
Until..one of his bootlaces got entangled in a stuck out root. He stumbled and being unable to hang on to anything, he lengthwise hit the moist forrestfloor.
He even managed to beat his forehead hard on Fred's broom in his stupid attempt to protect his head from hitting the ground.
He swore violently. Warm blood dripping on his hand.
He heaved himself up, ignored the slight dizziness and commenced to untangle his boot from that stupid root.
" You might look exceptionally cool, running around with your laces undone, but even more of an idiot once you kiss the floor! " Fred mimicked their mothers warning.
"Shut up!"
George seized the nearest stone in order to throw it at the cheeky hallucination of his brother.
But while Fred already had disappeared ( with his sniggers echoing in George's head ) his attention got drawn by the weird shape and surface of the little thing he just had picked up.
He held it up into what little light shone through the leaves and looked at it in mild surprise.
He could feel an highly magical energy radiating from it.
He placed it between his thumb and index finger to look at its different angles.
It was a stone alright, but it had been polished and there was a weird sign (which vaguely looked familar) engraved on one side.
Its bizarre energy let him stare at it for a couple of minutes before pocketing it in his jeans.
Before he stood up again, he searched his magical enhanced coat pockets for the bottle of Dragon Pureburn's.
Confident that it would ease his headache, so he could focuse and continue the search for a clue about how to get Fred back on the track of life, he took a couple of great gulps of the burning liquid.
Eventually he had no doubt it would be possible.
One way or another.
' All the fuzz about wizards not being able to bring back the dead...'s all just one big pompous rule to keep the world neat and organized.'
George had made it to the Bowtruckle's tree and the big oval rock on its right marking the entrance of the passage.
He couldn't be bothered to climb up the oak tree for the resin.
( Not that he'd admitt it, but considering his current condition, he probably wouldn't be able to anyway )
George eyed the rock suspiciously as if accusing it to have gained weight.
He had forgotten the little detail that he usually was twice his strength when he had come here.
He sighed, took another gulp of the Firewhiskey, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and got to work.
Threatend to black out, he was forced to take a rest for several times, before he finally managed to clear a hole, big enough for him to slip through.
He illuminated his wand as he made his way into the castle. He left the two brooms behind. He had carefully placed them at the inside of the entrancewall and felt utterly relieved.
He confidently staggered along the dark tunnel. He was a bit drunk by now, but at least his head and legs weren't aching anymore.
' Just another little rule to break.'