The spinning receded and Fred and his father crashed to the ground, the Portkey landing messily beside them. Fred was relieved to be back home (he and George now lived in the flat above the shop, of course, but he still considered the Burrow home) and safe from the Death Eaters. Impersonating Harry Potter was a dangerous thing to do these days. He wondered how the Death Eaters had known to be ready for them. That was worrying.

But he had no more time to dwell on it as he looked round at the concerned faces surrounding him - Hermione, Kingsley, Remus, Hagrid - and immediately he knew that something was wrong. The atmosphere was nervous, and Fred could feel everyone's eyes on him.

He dealt with it in the only way he knew: by making a joke. "What's wrong with all of you? You'd think Christmas had been cancelled or something," he said, almost managing to keep his voice from shaking. "George not back yet?" he asked in a falsely cheery voice. Fred, of all people, couldn't let his fear show. He was meant to be the one to keep morale up, to lighten the atmosphere.

Nobody answered, uneasy expressions on their faces, and suddenly Fred felt sick. George couldn't possibly... no...

Fred noticed Hermione bite her lip, and he rounded on her - she couldn't lie to save her life.

"Hermione, where is George?" Fred demanded, looking her right in the eye, and she flinched, looking round at the others. She had to answer now.

"I... Fred, he's... he's injured," Hermione whispered. "He's inside."

It was as if the whole world was suddenly in slow motion. People were talking, but Fred didn't take in anything they were saying. Injured... what did that mean? It sounded so much more serious than hurt. What had happened? At least it means alive, he tried to think, but somehow that didn't help. Alive doesn't necessarily mean okay. He didn't know he was doing it, but he was running; his legs were carrying him inside of their own accord. He vaguely registered people telling him to wait, Kingsley trying to interrogate his father, trying to get him to prove his identity. Fred didn't need to prove who he was; his actions were enough to convince anyone that it was his twin who was inside, maybe struggling to cling to his life.

He entered the house and kept running.

"Fred -" Ginny started to say, but he ignored her and ran straight past, before realising that he had no idea where he was going.

He span around so that he was facing Ginny again. "Where is he?" he asked hoarsely.

Ginny sighed and said nothing, knowing that Fred wouldn't listen if she did, but pointed towards the living room. Fred's body, still acting of its own accord, followed her finger towards the familiar door. He was no longer running - he wasn't sure he wanted to go in there without being prepared for what he was about to see. But it was as if a magnetic force was drawing him towards his twin and this, rather than any rational thought, was governing his body.

Fred could feel his father behind him as he reached his shaking hand out to the door handle. He could feel a supportive hand on his back, and he didn't know whose it was, but it felt nice. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

His stomach lurched and it was as if his whole world had been turned upside-down. His mouth went dry as he took in the gaping, bloody hole where George's ear should have been. No jokes came to mind this time. Jokes couldn't make this okay.

Emotion balled up inside him and ate at him like fire. It was an odd combination of emotion, nothing he had ever felt before, and he couldn't quite put a name to it. He felt... he didn't know what it was, but he just felt, when he saw his twin, his equal, the other half of him, lying there, unconscious, helpless.

But one thing he definitely knew he felt was anger. Anger at the people who did this, the people who would continue to do this to other people without hesitation until this war was over. We have to win, Fred thought as he looked at his broken twin, tears threatening to surface, and that was the moment when Fred Weasley decided he would do anything, anything he could to help end this war, no matter what it did to him.

A/N: Why do I write this stuff... why do I do this to myself? Ahem. Anyway. This is for the second round of Fanfiction's Got Talent on HPFC. My character was Fred Weasley and I used the prompt "ball of fire". Hope you enjoyed :)