Chapter 13

The next morning, Fred woke to the heavenly scent of bacon wafting up his nose. His head, which had been slumped back against the sofa cushions, jerked up. George, who had been lying against his brother, also whipped awake. Rubbing his eyes, Fred eased himself into a more comfortable position. Most others still seemed to be asleep. Willow's head rested in Fred's lap. Kat lay on the settee behind him, Molly curled up in her arms. On the other sofa, Harry, Ginny and Hermione were all squashed together, still fast asleep on each other's shoulders. Angelina was slumped on the large armchair with Fred and Roxanne on her knees. James, Lily, Hugo and Rose were all curled beside the fire but Albus was sitting up, staring into the blazing flames, his knees tucked up to his chest, arms folded across them. Lee was leaning against George who was trying to push him off. Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room holding a large plate of bacon sandwiches which she placed on the table.

"Help yourself," she said. "We've got plenty."

George lunged forward to take one, causing Lee to fall and whack his head off the wooden floor. He sat up rubbing his forehead before also leaning forward to take a sandwich. However, Fred didn't move for some breakfast, he simply sat, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees. As Albus got up to grab some food, Mrs. Weasley said, "Fred, dear, are you going to eat something?"

"I'm not hungry," Fred replied quietly. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and helped herself to a sandwich.

"Has Ron already gone to work?" George asked through a mouthful of bacon.

"Yes, your father's gone with him to help out- apparently yesterday, everyone was asking where the pair of you were. The word has definitely got around quickly that you're alive, Fred, dear."

"Great. That's exactly what I need," Fred said sarcastically ignoring his mother who was trying desperately to hand him some breakfast.

"With any luck, we'll both be able to get back soon," George said happily, but Fred said nothing. "You are going to come back aren't you? I mean, it's our shop, Fred. We brought it, we made it what it is!"

"Of course I'll come back," Fred said. "It's just that, everyone's going to want to know how I survived and what happened, but I can't tell them. It'd be bad for business because everyone'd hate me."

"It's impossible to hate you," Lee said, "Either of you. You were the most popular and well-known people in Hogwarts!" he lowered his voice so Albus wouldn't hear, "Even the Slytherins liked you."

"Exactly, and who cares about the business. All we care about at the moment is that you're alive," George said, smiling.

"But the shop's doing so well, I'd hate to ruin it."

"You're kidding, right? We've earnt more money in the last twenty odd years than we even thought existed!"

"You'll be welcomed back like a hero."

"I suppose it'll be more fun than working in an office," Fred beamed.

A few hours later, after Fred had quickly apparated home to grab his broomstick and then back to the Burrow, he headed up the muddy hill with everyone but Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Rose and Albus. The girls were all preparing a Sunday roast for dinner and Albus, who hated Quidditch, decided that he wanted to remain in the tent to do 'homework'. There were fourteen of them, which would have been perfect if it wasn't for the fact that Kat was a Muggle so couldn't play.

They swung open the gate to the enclosed pitch and filed in. Tall trees surrounded the area, so nobody could be seen flying around by passing Muggles. Three tall hoops stood at either end of the pitch and a large box had been placed next to the gate. Harry turned to Molly and quickly taught her how to mount her broom properly and the correct way to hold onto it, while everyone else did a few laps of the pitch to warm up with Kat standing watching. Once Molly was sitting on her broom properly, she kicked off the ground and flew up into the air. After the basics of turning, landing and speed, everyone returned to the back of the pitch where Fred explained the rules.

"Now," he said opening the box, "these are the four balls used to play Quidditch." He removed a large, red ball from the box and showed it to her, "This is a quaffle. There are three Chasers on each team who pass the ball to each other and try to get it through one of their hoops and past the Keepers- they guard the hoops- to score ten points. Yes?"

Molly nodded as Fred continued, "These are bludgers," he indicated to the black balls which were strapped into the box. "They fly around the pitch in an attempt to knock players off their brooms, so the Beaters chase after them to try and divert the bludgers from their team, and send it towards the opposition."

Molly nodded again as Fred finished, "Finally, this is the snitch," he pointed to the tiny golden ball in the box. "This zooms around the pitch and it's the Seeker's job to catch it. Whichever team's Seeker catches the snitch first gives their team a hundred and fifty points and stops the game."

"So the team that catches the snitch isn't guaranteed to win?"

"No. Not if the other team has over one hundred and fifty points more than them. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"Great. Shall we separate into teams then? What would you like to try first?" Harry said kindly to Molly. "You can have a chance at everything if you'd like to but obviously not at the same time."

"I don't mind," Molly said, "If everyone else decides first, I'll slot in where ever there's a space."

"Ok then, so we can have me and George as Beaters on one team with James as the Keeper, Hugo as the Seeker and Lee, Ginny and little Fred as the chasers," Fred suggested.

"So on ours, we'll have Harry as the Seeker, Roxy as Keeper, me and Molly as Chasers and Teddy and Lily as Beaters," Angelina said.

"I'll be ref instead of a chaser so the teams are equal," Lee proposed, "I'm not the best Quidditch player in the world anyway."

Everyone mounted their brooms and took their positions in the air.

"The game starts when the referee throws the quaffle into the air, then the bludgers and the snitch are released," Harry explained to Molly. "Remember, your job is to get the quaffle across the pitch, past James and through the hoops. Don't worry about anything else."

Molly, who was gripping her broom tightly, nodded and gulped as Harry shouted to Lee, "Right, I think we're ready."

Lee threw the quaffle as high up into the air as he could. Molly, Angelina, Fred jnr. and Ginny all raced forward to try and catch it as the quaffles and snitch broke free from the box. Hugo and Harry flew high up above everyone else, eyes squinted in search for the snitch. Ginny tried to pass the quaffle to Fred jnr. but Angelina whizzed in and intercepted. A bludger came bolting towards Molly, but at the last minute, Teddy batted it away towards Ginny who was chasing after Angelina. She threw the quaffle to Molly who caught it, dodged around Fred jnr. and flew towards the hoops where James hovered.

"Try and get it in!" Angelina encouraged from behind as she ducked away from a bludger which George had hit towards her. "Do you mind not trying to decapitate me?" she cried at her husband.

Molly held the ball under her arm. "I'll never get it in!"

"Give it a shot!" Teddy shouted, "You never know what might happen!"

So, Molly hauled the ball at the hoops. She missed, but only because James had pulled off a rather spectacular move which blocked the quaffle with the end of his broom.

"That was really close!" Angelina said as she flew over to talk to Molly.

The two of them split apart as a bludger flew towards them. Ginny, who had the quaffle tucked under her arm, whizzed past them and threw it to Fred jnr. Angelina and Molly, who was still a little unsteady on her broom, chased after them. As Fred jnr. raised his arm to throw the quaffle back to Ginny, a bludger hit him in the back. Letting go of the quaffle to steady himself, he wobbled slightly. Angelina dived and caught the quaffle just a few metres from the grass. She chucked it up to Molly who immediately began to stream down the pitch, Angelina close behind her.

"You do it this time!" she called, passing the quaffle to her aunt and ducking a bludger that Fred had sent whizzing towards her.

Angelina took the ball and aimed it at the left-hand hoop. It soared passed James and went straight through the middle. Lee blew his whistle and called, "That's ten-nil! Do you want to switch positions?"

So, Molly switched with Lily and became a beater. She held the bat in one hand and gripped her broom tightly with the other so as not to fall off. Lee threw the quaffle into the air and the bludgers became zooming around the pitch wildly. When one suddenly changed course and went whizzing towards Angelina, Molly went down into a steep dive and whacked the bludger away just in time. It sped towards Hugo who was hovering above them a few metres away.

"Good shot!" Angelina called, impressed. "You've got a good aim."

Lily passed her the ball and Angelina flew off towards the hoops. Molly heard a faint buzzing sound and turned her broom around quickly. A bludger was zipping towards her. She raised her bat and, with as much force as she could, hit the bludger in the opposite direction. It zoomed towards the other end of the pitch and went straight through the middle hoop. James, who had been guarding the other hoop against Lily's attempt at a goal stopped and got a face full of quaffle. Lily threw the quaffle through the hoops twice without anyone noticing. Everyone turned to Molly in amazement and Fred moved towards her, grinning.

"That," he said, "was brilliant."

"I didn't mean for it to go through the hoop," Molly said, "I just didn't want a broken nose."

"I told you, you had good aim," Angelina said flying over too, also beaming.

"Just you wait until you're old enough to try out for your house at school. I'll bet anything that they'll let you be a Beater," Fred told her.

Together, everyone packed up the balls, bats and whistle and began to make their way back down to the Burrow. The sky above them rumbled, but no thunder sounded. Just as they were reaching the bottom of the hill, rain exploded from the clouds and began to shower them. The horror of last night had faded into silly nightmares, everyone was in such a good mood after Quidditch, that they didn't give the creature a thought all morning. Fred and George even forgot about the excessive amounts of bandages they had wrapped around their wounds until Mrs. Weasley hurried towards them and passed them fresh rolls of dressing to put on.

The Burrow smelled like paradise and it didn't take long for Fred to find out why.

"Every Sunday, mum makes a roast chicken by hand without any magic. Everyone comes over for dinner. It's great," George explained.

Everyone huddled in the living room and chatted excitedly about the morning's Quidditch practice.

"She's a brilliant Beater," Ginny, who despite her annoyance at Fred, seemed to have no problem at all with his daughter, told Hermione in amazement.

"I've never seen anything like it. She hit the bludger straight through the hoop from the other end of the pitch!" Harry said, also astonished.

"It was an accident," Molly reasoned, "I just wanted to hit it away from me, I didn't realise it would go through the hoop, and it's not like in a real match it would have scored any points."

"But with an aim like that, you could get half the opposition of their brooms, quicker than you can say 'Beater'," George said.

Fred, as stunned as he was by his daughter's performance, wasn't thinking about Quidditch. His mind was now fixed on what had attacked the tent the previous night. And then, a horrible thought struck him. "The Vow!" he exclaimed suddenly, interrupting everyone else. "That… that person that came last night. It was because of the Vow!"

"What are you on about?" George asked, smile melting from his face.

"Why would they attack the tent though? Everyone that was affected by it was inside," Hermione pointed out.

Fred shook his head solemnly, "Think about it. If George, for example, had died when he got hit by Snape's spell, then he wouldn't have married Angelina or had Roxy and Fred. If Bill had died, he wouldn't have had Dominique, Louis or Victoire. It's not just the people immediately involved in the Vow who are in danger. Everything that's happened since could be reversed."

"We need to move to Grimmauld place," George said grimly, his head buried in his hands, "Soon."

"Who's that at the window?" Ginny said suddenly as she raised a hand to point.

Everyone's heads snapped towards the rain-splattered glass, but there was no one there. The gate swung open and closed, open and closed and the trees swayed in unnatural synchronicity. Although the garden seemed empty and deserted, the weather was behaving in a very odd way. Plant pots fell over at the same time and rolled back and forth across the garden in unison. The wind whipped the house in a continuous rhythm and even the rain seemed to be falling to a specific beat.

"Ginny, where exactly was the person you saw?" Fred asked.

"Just next to the gate over there," Ginny replied shakily, "They came in and then just vanished as I pointed at them."

The was a squeak as the kitchen door opened and the wind banged it shut again.

"Good evening everyone!" Mr. Weasley's voice called through and there was a collective sigh of relief as he appeared at the living room door, Ron behind him.

"Something the matter?" Mr. Weasley asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Ginny, was there only one person at the garden gate, or two?" George asked, turning towards his sister.

"I only saw one person!" Ginny snapped back. "Otherwise, I would have said, 'who are those two people at the gate'!" she leapt to her feet and stormed out the room.

"So… how was Quidditch?" Ron asked awkwardly.

"It was great. Molly's an excellent Beater," Fred said proudly.

"So she really takes after her father," Mr. Weasley said smiling.

"Or her Uncle," George said, "Everyone knows I'm a better player than Fred. I always have been."

"I could easily beat you in any match and, before this morning, I hadn't ridden a broom for twenty years," Fred challenged.

"Yeah, right. Your daughter's a better player than you, and she'd never even touched broom before today," George joked.

"Well, she had to get her talent from somewhere," Fred said, "It only makes sense that she got it from me."

Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen, informed everyone that dinner would be ready in half an hour and gave out instructions to help prepare everything. So, Fred, George and Lee headed to the kitchen table and set out the cutlery, glasses and plates. They folded up napkins and then returned to the cooker to help stew vegetables.

As Fred was stirring the large pot of gravy, he said, "I think we should all move tomorrow. We don't know when that thing or even something worse might come- we need to leave as soon as possible."

Those of the family who were in the room didn't reply until Mrs. Weasley, who was peeling carrots, said, "We can't go."

"And why's that?"

"Because Minerva and Poppy are coming back tomorrow, they sent me an owl. They're bringing some professional healers from St. Mungo's to check you and your brother over."

"Honestly, mum. For the last time, we're fine!"

"You might feel fine, but the more blood you two lose, the closer you are to… to…"

"Mum, neither of us are going anywhere," George comforted as he entered the kitchen after placing jugs of pumpkin juice on the table. "With the amount of bandage you've put on us, I doubt even a millilitre of blood could seep out at all. I promise, we're fine, we'd tell you if we weren't."

Mrs Weasley didn't look thoroughly convinced, but resumed the chopping and peeling of the carrots and said nothing more until the subject resurfaced.

"What about tomorrow evening, then? After McGonagall's left with the healers."

"We'll leave when things become too serious to handle," Mrs Weasley said strictly, "Currently, everyone's fine here so we'll stay here."

"But we don't know if Bill's safe. Or Charlie, or Percy," Fred pointed out.

"They'd write to us straight away if something was wrong," Mrs. Weasley persisted, "They know the seriousness of the situation, they'll be careful."

"What if they couldn't write to us!" Fred replied, voice raised slightly.

"Do you know what?" Mrs Weasley shouted. "I don't think I need your help anymore. The kitchen is too crowded with everyone helping. Why don't you go and sit in the lounge for a while? Have a rest before dinner?"

Earning a glare from Kat as he went, Fred reluctantly trudged through to the living room where he sat next to Willow, who had settled in quite nicely to life at the Burrow.

"Why doesn't anyone else understand that it's not safe to stay here, Willow?" he said quietly, "They need to leave if they want to survive, but don't listen to me."

Willow raised her head slightly as though she was listening to what Fred was saying.

"Why won't anyone listen to me?"

He sat next to Willow, stroking her gently and staring into the fire until Mrs. Weasley called that dinner was ready. He got up, but, instead of going into the kitchen to sit at the table with everyone else, he hung around at the front door until he was sure no one was looking at him. Only then did he slip out of the door and stride away from the Burrow, completely unnoticed. He didn't know or care where he was going. But he hated that he couldn't keep his family safe. He needed to feel as though he was doing something to help. So, he marched across the muddy fields, the only thing he had with him was his wand, but he needed nothing else.

He didn't know how long he walked for, but when he stopped, the sun was setting over the hills above him. Part of him was slightly disappointed that no one had come after him, not even George, but the other part was thankful. His chest ached horrifically, but that didn't stop him from hiking on.

When he had walked as far as he could, Fred disapparated, to appear again on the same, murky island that he and George had visited a few nights before. He ducked behind a rock and peered around, when he couldn't see anyone around, he stalked forward, stopping every so often to check for any signs of life. When he finally reached the same rocky bay where he had been attacked on his previous visit, Fred slid behind a tree, and out of sight of the people who patrolled the bay. There were at least ten of them, all strolling down the bay, faces masked and wands held at their arms-length pointing away from them.

He remained hidden behind the tree for over an hour, trying to figure out the best way to carry out what he wanted to do. After revising the pattern of the guards patrolling, Fred snuck around to the edge of the bay and waited for the wizard he'd been watching particularly closely to pass. When he did, Fred silently cast a stunning spell and caught the man. Hoping with all his heart that no attention had been brought to him, Fred threw the unconscious man over his shoulder and carried him back to the tree he had been hiding at for so long. He removed the man's wand from his hand and buried it under a tree so it merely seemed to be a fallen twig. When he attempted to take off the man's mask, his fingers burned painfully, but the mask didn't move at all.

When the guard woke a few minutes later, Fred was ready. He had his wand pointed at the man's face. The guard moved his hand to his pocket for his wand, but instead of seeming worried, the man laughed. "You're a fool if you think I need a wand to perform magic. I'm more powerful than you, you're an idiot thinking you'll get away from here alive."

"I've done it before," Fred replied, "And if you were more powerful than me, you wouldn't have let me capture you."

"So you're that idiot who came the other day. You caused quite a stir up. One of our men died, you know?"

"We did nothing to threaten your men and we were attacked; they deserved to die."

"Is that so?" Without waiting for an answer, the man continued, "Well, some of the others said you'd come back, but honestly, I wasn't so sure. I didn't think you'd have the nerve."

"Is that so?"

"Not after that fight."

"I'm not going to be scared off by a bit of pathetic squabbling. Now, tell me what you and your friends are doing here. Why are you causing the storms?"

The man tutted, "I thought you'd have figured that out. Obviously, we're using the storm to cover up our actual plans. We can't be attracting the attention of nosy Muggles. We decided that we'd use the storm that's supposedly coming over anyway to cover up what we're doing. Disappointingly, that pathetic storm only brought a bit of rain, much less than scientists predicted, so we took matters into our own hands."

"So, what are you doing, and why do you need to cover it up?"

"We're getting revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Why, yes. It's rather entertaining too."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you that," there was something patronizing in the man's voice which Fred found rather insulting, but he didn't falter.

"The other day, when my brother and I came, we heard two of your men discussing something. Something about someone causing damage-"

"Think, boy! Did I not just say that we wanted revenge? The man that those guards were talking about the other day damaged us in more than one way. He ruined us and we want to get revenge! For a while, we lost track of him, many believed him to be dead and our trail was lost, but only a few weeks ago, he returned and we could continue."

Fred's stomach dropped. These people were trying to kill him, but they seemingly didn't recognise who he was. His voice was shaky as he asked, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"You asked."

"You're not… lying, are you?"

"Why would I? You'd probably kill me if I did."

"But you said earlier that you didn't need a wand to be magic."

"I did, but I can't perform very powerful enchantments without one. I could maybe distract you long enough to escape, but frankly, I'm quite enjoying this."

More than very confused, Fred asked, "Those spells that your men attacked me and my brother with, how do you heal them?"

"We know a fair few spells that others don't, perhaps you could be more specific?"

"My brother and I got hit by some of your ridiculous spells last time we were here, they gave us cuts, cuts that we haven't been able to heal. They won't stop bleeding, either."

"Let me see."

Fred lifted up his shirt slightly and unwrapped the bandages that were now caked with blood. But it wasn't the scarlet bandage that shocked Fred. The gash had turned a horrible shade of sickly green and the skin around it was bruised and pale. Blood continued to pour from the wound, but not as though it were liquid, it seeped through every tiny piece of punctured skin and slowly rolled away. Fred gasped sharply.

"It wasn't like this before!"

"It would seem, that your efforts to heal the wound have made it worse," the man said simply and Fred pointed his wand directly at the man's heart.

Breathing heavily, Fred said, "The spell was meant to do that, wasn't it? Tell me how to heal them. I know you know. My brothers could be so much worse than this!"

"I'm afraid I can't help you," The man said simply. "The more treatment added to these, the worse they will get. If no treatment had been added to the wounds, then I could have healed you in a heartbeat."

Fred took a step forward and poked his wand into the man's throat.

"You won't hurt me."

"Why is that?"

"Because you need me for answers, and the last thing you want is for you captor to be unable to co-operate properly."

"There are plenty of others down there I can ask, don't you worry."

The man laughed again, "You really are very stupid. But also, rather confusing. Perhaps, now I have answered some of your questions, you will answer some of mine?"

"That depends on what you want to ask me."

"Why do you want to find out all this information about our plans here?"

"Because anyone with half a brain could figure out that your 'storm' isn't a normal one. Thunder claps exactly once a minute with a perfectly shaped lightning bolt thirty seconds later- it's the most accurate storm in existence!"

"If it were true that anyone could notice the perfection of our storm, then why are you the only person that's come to investigate?"

Fred was caught and he knew it. He couldn't tell the wizard about his miraculous return from the dead or how he thought it was weird that exactly a week after he'd made himself known in Diagon Alley, the storm had started, so he awkwardly lied, "I'm a meteorologist. I was studying the storm the other night when I noticed the pattern."

"A wizard who's a meteorologist…" said the man thoughtfully, "I've never heard of that before."

"Well, I married a Muggle and decided that I should probably try to blend in with their way of living for a while."

"How long have you been studying the weather for?"

"Only a few years," Fred said a little too quickly, his heart was beginning to pound extremely quickly.

"But, I have a friend who works at the Ministry," Fred continued, "and they asked me if I could find out as much about the storm as I could, so I came to investigate here."

Hoping that his story was believable, Fred stopped.

"So, you thought you'd trace the origin of the storm?"

"That's right."

"With your brother?"

"With my brother," Fred confirmed.

"Is he also a meteorologist?"

"No, no he works in a shop."

"What kind of shop?"

"A joke- err… a Quidditch shop."

Fred's insides squirmed, now he'd blown it, but somehow, the man seemed not to have noticed.

"Why did a man who worked in a Quidditch shop want to come with you to study a storm?"

"It's terribly boring working in a shop, so he wanted to spend some time away."

"I see."

"Have I answered all your questions now?"

"Oh, I think so. So, if you'd be so kind as to lower your wand, I'd like to get back to my guard, my colleagues will be concerned. I'd like my wand back please."

"Certainly," Fred said, "If you can find it." He indicated to the twig strewn ground, grinning.

"Why, you little-"

"I really must be off," Fred said and turned his back on the man. This was possibly the biggest mistake that Fred had made all week. The second he'd begun to walk away; he was blasted off his feet and whacked into a tree by an invisible shield. Struggling to his feet, Fred raised his wand that the man, who had risen and was holding out his arms, hands shaking slightly.

"Maybe you forgot that I told you I didn't need a wand to fight?"

"Stupefy!" Fred yelled, but the force-field prevented the spell from going anywhere near its target. Instead, the curse hit the wall and powered back towards Fred, who ducked at the very last second. The man sent powerful blasts of hot air at Fred, which knocked him off his feet. The last one exploded in his face, but instead of getting up and leaving, or even disapparating, Fred sent as many curses as he could think of at his attacker. Every single one was engulfed by the shield, but Fred sent one last spell- not straight forward, but directly to his left. Hoping desperately that his idea would work, Fred backed away. Just as he'd planned, the spell rebounded off a tree and went soaring towards the attacker, around the edge of the rippling force-field. The man, who's concentration was lost, was blown off his feet and, glared at Fred through his mask.