Chapter 9

At 05:00 the next morning, Fred woke with a start after a night's sleep littered with dreams of flashing lights, explosions and loud thunder claps. He rolled over on the sofa with a grunt and pulled his thin, patchwork blanket over his shoulders. He could hear the rain dancing on the windows outside and the thunder that boomed once a minute. Eventually, Fred threw back the cover and got off the settee. As he hadn't brought any spare clothes to the Burrow, he didn't have to get changed, only slide on his jacket and shoes. He walked through to the kitchen, lighting his wand as he went so he could see in the darkness of the gloomy summer morning. Ten minutes later, when George had finally emerged from upstairs looking tired and just as miserable as the weather outside, they bolted down a breakfast of porridge and blueberries and left the house. Immediately, they regretted not bringing a warmer jacket. Howling winds stabbed their skin and rain hit their bare skin with the same force as that of a bullet. The two of them forced their way through the storm, heading East until they reached a field from which they disapparated.

And they did this all day, every time moving somewhere slightly closer to the source of the storm. They appeared in one field, walked for a bit and then vanished again. Once or twice, they accidently apparated to the middle of a city full of people. The two of them had to walk with the crowd as normally as possible for a while until they reached an alley where they could disapparate without drawing attention to themselves.

By the end of the day, they were both soaking wet and so tired they felt as though they were about to collapse, however they felt that they'd definitely made progress as were nearer to where the lightning had struck so early in the morning.

Fred and George stayed overnight in a scruffy inn that was situated in a small village in the countryside. The morning after, the two of them woke, ate a breakfast of cold toast and mouldy jam, and headed off at 05:30. Even though they had draped their jackets and socks over the radiator overnight, their clothes were still drenched from the storm the previous day so walking for miles in the rain with sopping wet clothes, just made the experience even more uncomfortable. It was by far the worst day of the storm yet. The fog was hanging low over the ground which made it impossible for the twins to see even a few meters in front of them. With the thunder rumbling dangerously above them and the lightning flashing viciously every minute, they plodded through fields and cities, hardly even talking.

At lunch time, Fred and George were so completely exhausted, they felt they couldn't keep going.

"Let's move once more to the coast. That's as far East as we can go really as long as we stay in Britain," George proposed as they sat in a café, slurping greedily on some soup, "Then we can walk for a while along the beach and see if we can see anything before finding somewhere to stay the night."

So, after lunch, the two of them disapparated for what they thought would be the last time that day.

Waves were dangerous, the sea choppy. Water crashed against the shore, sending sea spray flying in all directions. The ground was soaked and squelchy so as the two of them walked down the bay, their feet often got stuck in a patch of mud-like sand.

After a few minutes of stumbling around on the beach, Fred and George gave up and went to sit on a nearby bench. The rain continued to patter on them, it seemed as though the further east they got, the more the rain pelted them so now, as they sat together on the drenched bench, Fred and George looked and felt as though they were about to drown in the downpour of continuous water. Fred squinted into the wall of rain in front of them and out into the sea.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the large lump that he'd spotted in the middle of the sea. "In the middle of the water."

"I'm not sure," George replied, also squinting and sitting up slightly, "Is it a boat?"

"No, I don't think so. It's not shaped like a ship and the water's been choppy and unsafe for days, nobody would be stupid enough to go out sailing in this weather. I think it's an island!" he cried.

"You don't think-"

"I bet it is," Fred interrupted, "Are you up for it?"

George smirked and the two of them vanished from the bench. Reappearing at the edge of the small island, the twins peered around them. When neither of them could see any immediate signs of human life, they moved around, searching and looking until they finally reached the far side of the forest-covered island.

"-see the point of continuing with this!" said a voice from the other side of a clump of trees. "All it's doing is attracting the attention of Muggles. He's clearly not realised that anything's wrong with this storm otherwise he would have turned up by now."

"I doubt it. He probably doesn't even realise all the damage that he caused in the first place," another gruff voice replied.

"But what's the point of this storm? If we wanted to get his attention, then why don't we just- What was that?"

Fred cursed under his breath. In an attempt to get a view of the two mysterious speakers, he'd stepped on a twig which had snapped loudly under his weight. He looked at George, face full of apology and mouthed 'What do we do?'.

'Run?' George mouthed back and mimed running away.

'Too loud' Fred replied, "On three, fire a stunning spell dead ahead," he whispered and then held up his fingers as footsteps began to echo into their ears.

"Stupefy!" They both shouted, but before either of their spells hit their targets, two bolts of lightning erupted from the air and shot towards them. They ducked behind a tree and sent two more curses in the general direction of their attackers. More bright yellow sparks zoomed past their heads. Fred tried to peer around the tree to see his attackers but both men were wearing full face masks. Several minutes later, Fred and George were still crouched in the cover of the trees shooting random spells at their enemies and they were still having fireworks shot at them from behind.

"We need to get out of here!" Fred shouted to George who was lying on the floor behind a boulder, "We have to go back to the Burrow!"

"We can't stop shooting at them!" George hollered back, "If we let our defences down for even a minute they'll-"

Boom!

The boulder exploded.

"George!" As Fred ran towards his brother, he shot two spells with all the strength and power he could muster at the two masked men. They were blown backwards into a tree where they lay unmoving. He placed a hand over George's heart which was beating weakly and moved his hair out his bloody face. There was a gruesome cut across his head and his face was pale and clammy. Clutching his brother as tightly as he could, Fred disapparated.

He reappeared at the Burrow, sweaty, exhausted and holding the unconscious body of his brother. He got to his feet and, finding that he couldn't support the weight of George, he sprinted inside. With no idea of the time, he burst through the door and ran into the kitchen where his mother was cooking.

"Fred!" she exclaimed when he arrived panting, "Where's George?"

"Out…outside. There was an explosion and he was right in the middle of it."

"He's not-"

"He's fine, just… just unconscious and he has a… a horrible cut on his head," Fred panted.

"Well, everyone's just got back from work, give me a minute to find someone to help," she looked at Fred, "While I'm there, I'll get something for that nasty cut of yours," she vanished from the kitchen, eyes full of concern. Fred hadn't even realised that he was injured, but looking down, he saw a long gash across his chest which was oozing with scarlet blood. She returned a few minutes later closely followed by Bill and Harry.

"Where is he?" Bill asked urgently.

Fred could no longer speak. He was so exhausted and his cut hurt so badly, all he could do was raise a hand and point to the front garden before he collapsed on the floor and darkness invaded his vision.

He woke a few hours later to a horrible stabbing pain in his chest and unclear voices winding into his ears.

"What do you think happened?" asked Angelina's shaking voice.

"I don't know, but when Fred wakes up I'm going to kill him," Ginny's voice replied, which was equally unsteady.

Fred decided to keep his eyes shut.

"Apparently, there was an explosion that George was caught in," Angelina said worriedly. "I heard your mum telling Bill. She said Fred just burst into the kitchen, told her that George was lying outside, injured but alive and then he collapsed too."

"Explosion?" Ginny repeated, "Where were they to get caught in an explosion?"

"No idea. Neither of them told anyone where they were going. They just left." There was a pause in which Angelina sniffled, "Why are you so annoyed at him? He made the Vow to save you and your family. He was being loyal."

"He had no choice," Ginny replied hotly, "He would have died- for real- if he didn't make the promise with Malfoy. He was being a coward and then he ran away."

"Staying away surely meant that he regretted it," Angelina reasoned.

"Staying away meant that he was afraid," Ginny shot back.

"Well, I doubt he would've come back at all if he knew you were going to beat him up like that! It was unfair!"

"Unfair! I'll tell you what's unfair-"

"Who knows how many times you could have died if he hadn't made that Vow?"

"He betrayed everyone!"

"He was loyal to his family! Why does it matter? We won the war anyway!"

"Because now, the stupid Vow's come back to kill us!"

They fell silent for a while and all Fred could hear was their heavy breathing.

"You should go to bed," Angelina said shakily, "You have work in the morning and if you don't go soon, you'll be exhausted."

"I'm fine," Ginny said shortly.

"They'll be ok, Ginny, honestly. Go."

"No. I'm staying," Ginny snapped and silence took over again.

The pain in Fred's chest had been growing steadily worse and he now felt as though someone was continuously stabbing him in the heart with a red-hot poker. It was torture. Torture for all those years he avoided his family when he should have just come home. It was becoming difficult to breathe. The pain was so horrible, it felt as though it was wrapping itself around his lungs and slowly, slowly burning them.

A minute or so later, footsteps began to grow louder before Harry's voice said, "How are they doing?" There was a scraping of wood against wood against wood as a chair was pulled up from somewhere.

"I don't know," Ginny replied, "It's hard to tell."

Fred felt a hand being placed on his forehead, but it was removed quickly as Harry gasped, "He's boiling! Have you got a cold flannel or something? You could fry an egg on Fred's forehead!"

The was a large amount of movement in which Fred heard more scraping of chairs and the running of a tap. Then something refreshingly cool and damp was placed gently onto his forehead. He couldn't help but sigh with relief. The cold cloth that was now sitting on his head was like a blessing from a million angels.

"Have either of you been up to bed yet?" Harry asked.

Ginny mumbled in return.

"Ginny! Go up to bed. You have to be at work tomorrow and you can't turn up looking like a ghost," when Ginny didn't move, he repeated fiercely, "Go!"

"Angelina?"

"No I haven't and I'm not going. I don't have work tomorrow so I don't need to be up early," she replied equally fiercely.

"Fine," Harry replied almost with reluctance, "You know, I almost feel like this is my fault."

"What?" Angelina said loudly. "Why would you think that?"

"If it wasn't for me, then Fred would never have had to make that Vow and he wouldn't have 'died'. Then Ginny wouldn't have got annoyed at him and he wouldn't have had to go off with George and get themselves blown up!"

"Harry, none of this is your fault," Angelina said soothingly, "It's not your fault that Fred got separated from George and Ginny at the World Cup. It's not your fault that Malfoy decided to threaten Fred and make him accept the Vow. You know Fred, Harry. You practically grew up with him, Ron and George."

"So?" Harry demanded.

"So, you know that he only agreed to make the Vow so he could help keep his family safe. He would have died any other way."

"He almost did," Harry replied miserably.

"But he didn't!"

Fred could feel both Harry and Angelina's eyes fixed on him.

"You loved him, didn't you?" Harry asked. "At Hogwarts. You liked him. You liked him a lot."

There was a horrible silence in which the burning rope tightened around his heart and Fred could only assume that Angelina nodded.

"I married George because he was the best memory I had of Fred. We understood each other, what they were going through. Of course, now, I love George more than anything and we have Roxy and Fred too, I wouldn't have married anyone else."

"They'll be ok, you know," Harry told her, "Both of them. They've faced worse threats. Ginny, for example."

Angelina giggled guiltily.

"Seriously, though- don't worry. Whatever they're planning on doing, they'll be fine," Harry said., "I'm going back to bed if that's ok."

"Yes, go on. I'll be fine," Angelina said kindly.

Once Harry had finally left the room, Fred waited a few minutes before opening his eyes and groaning. He raised a drowsy hand and removed the towel from his head. He tried to sit up but two, freezing hands forced his shoulders back down. He winced at the pain in his chest and moved his hand to cover the gash. Despite his blurred vision, Fred could distinctly see the scarlet blood that now covered his hand.

"Is… is George… is he ok?" Fred stuttered weakly.

"He'll be fine. There's a stubborn cut on his head that's refusing to heal but you have a worse cut on your chest as you've apparently noticed," she explained, although her voice seemed slurred and fuzzy. "Can you remember what happened?" she asked kindly.

"We… we were looking for the source of the storm. We ended up on this weird island just off the coast. There… there were these people there, they were talking about… about… about- I can't remember."

"You can't remember anything at all?" Angelina asked curiously.

Fred shook his head, then regretted it, "But then they started attacking us they used spells I've never seen before. We had to take cover behind trees and boulders. The people, they… they… they blew up the boulder that George was behind."

"Don't worry," Angelina said, picking up the discarded cloth and wiping Fred's forehead with it, "You'll both be fine. You're safe here with us."

"Look after George instead," he told Angelina, forcing her hand away, "I'll be fine in a minute."

Angelina turned to George who was lying on the sofa on the opposite side of the room to Fred. Fred had no idea what he looked like but could guarantee that George looked worse. His pale face had a green tinge to it and the deep gash across his head was seeping blood which was dripping down his clammy face. Fred buried his face in his hands and swore loudly.

"Fred, don't. He chose to come with you and he knew there would be risks. You can't go blaming yourself for this," Angelina said calmly yet strictly, Fred could see why she became a professor at Hogwarts.

Fred lay back down again on the sofa but cried out immediately when a phantom pain stabbed him.

"What's wrong?" Angelina asked, snapping her head towards Fred.

Gasping for breath, he indicated to the gash on his chest.

"I'm sorry we don't have anything to stop the pain or the bleeding!" she said, rushing over to place a long piece of fabric over his wound. She tried to put pressure on it but Fred howled in agony and pushed her away. The aching was constricting his lungs. He couldn't breathe and his already unclear vision was fading slowly. He barely noticed when Angelina forced him to lie back down and he didn't hear the footsteps thundering down from the stairs.

"What's going on?" came Bill's voice.

"Is he ok?" Hermione asked.

"Fred? Fred, can you hear us?"

Boom!

The storm had erupted to life outside.