FRED POV

I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not scared. I'm petrified.

Ginny is holding my arm so tightly that I doubt I'm getting much circulation. All I can tell her is that we need to hurry, we need to get away from all the people. I can't tell her it's going to be okay—I'm not even sure I understand what is going on. I just know there is a lot of running, screaming, and setting things ablaze. It's like one of our pranks gone terribly, horrifically wrong, and it's certainly nothing to laugh about.

My heart is pounding so hard I think my ribcage is going to burst. My wand is clutched in my hand so tightly that I might crush it, and I silently thank Merlin that I am a wizard. I cannot imagine facing this without magic.

"Which way should we go, Fred?" George asks, panic evident in his voice.

I wish he wouldn't panic. And how am I supposed to know which way to go?

"Ask Harry—"

"He's not here!" George snips angrily, moving closer to myself and Ginny. "Which way do we go??"

I looked around, unsure of what to think first. Why hadn't Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed us? Were they trying to do something heroic? Why hadn't they stayed with us? They were much better at getting out of these scrapes, if their past exploits were any indication. A part of me wants them here so that they can protect us.

What good are George and I in this situation? We make people laugh. We don't save the world or cavort with Azkaban escapees.

Ginny is crying now. The fire is reflecting in her tears and I look away because I feel like I might cry too. Where's my dad? I shouldn't have looked away… Death Eaters are parading a muggle family through the tents, floating them through the air and chanting unspeakable things.

"This way," I motion toward a clearing in the woods, just beyond the light of the fire. "We'll wait out there until we can get back to the tent and find everyone else."

George and I start to run, but Ginny is frozen as she stares up at the family the Death Eaters are toying with.

"GINNY!" I shout, and she looks at me, shaking and unable to make her mouth move. "You have to move! Come ON!" I yank on her arm again and she gets a couple of steps before she trips on a tent post. My first instinct is to pick her up and run, but the logical part of my brain says that if I trip, I'll fall on top of her and she'll get hurt. Instead, I pull her to her feet and tell her it's time for a piggy back ride. She jumps up and I catch her beneath the knees, her arms are around my neck.

George cries out to us and whips his wand around his head. He stuns somebody behind us—a Death Eater? I bolt after my brother, Ginny's tears dampening the shoulder of my sweater. George lights his wand and leads the way through the trees. Soon we are far away enough to stop, but we still must be cautious. He puts out his wand and I set down Ginny on a large rock. George keeps a look out while I check Ginny for scratches and try to calm her down.

"Shh… shh… it's alright, Gin… George, is there anyone coming?"

"No," he replies after a moment, squinting toward the distant firelight. "We're alone."

"F-Fred? George?"

I could have gotten whiplash from turning to Ginny so fast. My first thought was that she was injured or that somebody was coming… that somebody was already here. Could George and I take on a Death Eater? Ginny was in no shape for a fight.

"What is it, Gin?" I looked around, expecting to see someone emerge from the shadows. I lit my wand. "Who's there?"

"N-no… look up!"

George tried to make some kind of noise, but all that came out was a strangled shout. There above us, hanging in the sky, was the Dark Mark. Weren't those only sent up when somebody had been killed?

"George…" I muttered, allowing my eyes to dart to my twin briefly. I know he knows what I'm thinking.

He swallowed and looked at me. He said nothing. We both looked back up at the sky and sat on either side of Ginny, holding her close and hoping that our thoughts are wrong… but honestly, where were the others? What if…?

When the fires died down, Ginny had stopped shaking, and the din had faded away, we started back for our tent. Maybe the others were waiting there for us, just as worried for our safety as we were for theirs.

The camps were nothing but charcoal and a few scattered flags now. Only a few tents were still standing, and my heart went out to a young family calling out for someone. Was that the one who had died? Were they calling out a name that would never be answered?

As we neared out tent, I saw no movement, and I feared the worst. Ginny and George moved closer to me, as I did to them. Ginny's fingers were digging into my arm, but I felt nothing. I could not take my eyes away from the tent, partly singed but still standing.

"Dad?" George called out, his voice hoarse. I knew his eyes were filled with tears, just like mine. "Ron? Harry? Hermione? Anyone??"

"GEORGE! FRED! GINNY!"

The voice came from behind us, and I did not turn. I already knew who it was, and I nearly fell to my knees in gratitude. George and Ginny had turned, and Ginny had let go to run into the arms of our father.

Slowly, I turned, and I knew there were a few tears dripping down my face. But I did not wipe them away.

I laughed.

Because that is all I really know how to do.