Chapter Four: Just Helping

"I have to see her." Three weeks had passed and George tried to make us believe that he wasn't missing Katie; he was doing a very bad job. Every time we saw him in his room, he was holding onto a shirt she'd left behind – hugging it, smelling it... I pitied the man, really.

One day, I just couldn't take it anymore. "George," I said, sitting on his bed next to him. "You should go visit her." He raised his eyes to meet mine and verify I was not saying this haphazardly. "I'm serious. You need to visit Katie."

"But what about you and Fred?"

"We'll be fine," I forced a smile. It felt odd stretching the muscles I hadn't used in months. "We can hold up the fort here while you go see her."

He hesitated. I didn't blame him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes – go, now!"

George reached forward in his sitting position and gave me the best hug he could master. "Thanks, Sara, really..."

"Go!" I found myself laughing as he dashed out the room and made his way out of the shop. That felt strange. Nowadays, laughs were hard to come by. Once the door shut behind George, I heard a loud crack; after Katie's departure, the three of us had made it impossible for anyone to Apparate or Disapparate directly inside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It was an extra safety precaution – just like how we'd casted a charm on our front door to make it blend in with the shop's walls.

Fred and I lay on the bed, just staring at the ceiling. I don't remember the last time we'd let any light shine through the place. The sunlight that managed to sneak through the curtains fell on the ceiling and crept down the wall. I traced its streak with my eyes as the two of us exchanged stories in a volume that was barely above a whisper.

"How do you think your Mom is handling this?" I asked, my eyes not leaving the sun-streak.

"She's a bloody mess, I reckon."

"I don't doubt that."

Fred continued to stare at the light on the ceiling as if he'd never seen light before. "What about your parents?"

I held back a laugh. "They were going mad before this sodding war even started. I can't even imagine... well, I mean, I warned them it might get like this – told them not to owl or anything..."

"Good thing they know not to or we might get some unwanted attention."

"Speaking of unwanted attention, I'm assuming Ron, Hermione and Harry aren't going back to Hogwarts this year."

Fred chuckled half-heartedly. "Not a chance. They've dropped out to do something Dumbledore started them on... At least, that's what I understood from Ron's rambling speech before the wedding..."

We couldn't have been sitting in silence for more than two seconds after Fred's last sentence had drifted off when a loud crash from downstairs pulsed through the shop – including our apartment above it. We jolted upright almost instantly.

My jaw dropped open but no sound came out. I wanted to just shout, 'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT?' but instead my eyes grew wide and stared at Fred as though he had the answer. He obviously did not, as he seemed to be searching for it in our bed sheets.

"What could it be?" I mouthed, hoping he understood.

He mouthed back, "Maybe George?" though intuition told us both it wasn't.

Another deafening crash sounded, but this time it was much closer to our spot in the bedroom. "Search every room!" a gruff voice instructed. The number of feet stamping was undetermined, but by the sound of it, there had to be at least four or five of them. Fred and I had just enough time to draw our wands before the bedroom door pounded open and a fairly young wizard approached. He had to be maybe a few years older than us.

"In here!" he bellowed, signalling the rest of his friends to storm into the room. Five men in long robes were blocking the door to our bedroom, and we had make Disapparation impossible. There was nowhere to turn.

I wanted to be brave, but my fear had already flattened me to the wall. I held my wand confidently outward, as thought that somehow made up for the frightened look on my face. Fred stepped in front of me and held out his wand alongside mine. "What do you want?"

I knew they couldn't be Death Eaters; they didn't have the masks like the ones in the Department of Mysteries. The coarse-voiced, and oldest, wizard of the group spoke. "We're from the Ministry of Magic."

"May I ask what Department?" Fred asked. I could tell he was putting on a brassy, bold exterior – one his interior could not match. It was hard to be sincere when all five of the much more experienced wizards had their wands out, ready to fire any spells they pleased at us.

The man sneered. "Why bother yourself with such trivialities?"

"My father works for the Ministry, I was just wondering..."

"I know." The man cut him off. "That's why we're here."

"My father?" I was terrified Fred would hate the response. Fortunately, it wasn't as bad as I thought.

"We know you are working with Potter."

I found myself stepping forward so I was next to Fred. "We haven't seen him in ages! We have no idea where he is!" I shouted, not really thinking of its repercussions.

He ignored me and just kept talking. "We could easily take your whole family in for... questioning." I knew he meant the Imperius Curse, but I didn't want to throw that out in the open. "But it has come to our attention you carry shielding gear."

"Uh, ye-yes." Fred stammered. "What do you...?"

"Give us all you have and we won't turn you in."

"Don't do it." I whispered in his ear. "They're working for him. You'll just be helping..."

Fred gulped so loudly, it cut the tension in the room. "Take what you want, just don't hurt my family."

A flock of four of them dashed out of the room and could be heard running back down the spiral staircase to the shop. The wizard that had found them first stuck around long enough to squeal, "Good little Weasley!"

When we were alone, my knees finally gave out. I lay limp on the floor, trying to collect my thoughts on what had just happened; Fred punched the wall in a fit of rage. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit..." It didn't take long before he was on the floor with me, hugging my head to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Sara... I'm so sorry..."

Fred and I were so shaken from the incident that we didn't notice the streak of sunlight on the ceiling narrow ever so slowly until it disappeared into the darkness of the flat.