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Chapter three

Sept Weasley was running scared. Only a few minutes ago, Voldemort had cast a huge finite incantatum, over the whole forest.

Where there was once magic and beauty, there was now ugliness and desolation. The spectacular trees, whose leaves had once shimmered a different colour for every day of the year, were now nothing but gnarled, twisted husks.

And the glamour charm he had been wearing… had snapped, spectacularly.

Directly after the charm was cast, he had been encased in a halo of glittering sparks.

The first real indication that the charm had worn off was the fact that every other person present's full attention was glued to his forehead. His scar, the scar that proclaimed him to be Voldemort's equal, and a worthy adversary.

It was shaped like a lightning bolt. The only difference between his and Harry's was the way it faced, in the opposite direction.

Startled, he looked around him, like a deer caught in the headlights. He was on the edge of the forest, in the distance he could make out the vague shapes of wizarding houses.

Thanking whoever it was who was looking out for him, he slowly walked to the nearest.

The owners were having a barbeque; he could smell it from here. Letting out a gusty sigh, he had almost disappeared again, when a young woman appeared from inside the house.

She took one glance at him, and then she did a double-take.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

"No, I'm not. My name's Sept, Sept Weasley, and you are?"

"You're dead!"

"It was a misunderstanding. As you can see, I'm alive, though," he threw a glance at his left leg, which was bleeding badly, "I don't know for how much longer. I was in an accident, well, Death-eater raid."

"Oh, poor thing, how, why were you there?"

"Trying to protect my family, but, I'm scared that they'll kill them; that they'll die because of me!"

"Right, come with me, I'm going to fire call your mother." A moment; and a handful of powder later, Molly Weasley's head nestled in the flames.

As soon as she focused on the room beyond, her eyes widened with shock and fear.

She took a sharp intake of breath, and then dispelled it.

"Sept, is it really you?"

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

"Taking you home, Sept, Percy knows, so does Ginny, I think."

"But…"

"No buts, Sept, I'm doing what I should have done years ago."

A moment later, Sept fell through the flames onto the hearth rug. Now Mrs. Weasley was closer, she enveloped him in a huge bear-hug.

"Mum," Sept choked, "finding it… difficult… to… breathe!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear, but I've wanted to do this for years."

"I know you have mum, I've… missed… you." Pearlescent tears were spilling from his eyes, the eyes that had marked him as different from the moment he came into the world.

Most Weasley eyes were light blue, but his were dark, almost black. They made a striking contrast to the Weasley hair, which lay like flames in a messy ponytail. His face was pale and drawn in the flickering light.

Percy Weasley stopped dead as he stared at the young man on the hearth. With a sigh of contentment, he realized that his brother was home.

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A/N. Thank you for the review Anakah, it's nice to know that someone appreciates my uniqueness! Only kidding. :-)