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One Step at a Time

And Then There was One

"All right, it looks like we have to order more parts for the trick wand cores," Fred said, emerging from the back stockroom of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "Can't believe how quick those went. I guess the April Fool's Day sale went well, huh?"

No answer greeted him from where George was supposed to be counting down the cash drawer.

"You better not be slacking off while I've been breaking my back counting all those wands," Fred warned. "Or I'm going to eat all of those fancy chocolates Angelina bought for you for our birthday and not feel one bit guilty about it."

Still no response and now Fred frowned. "What, did you fall asleep?" he joked, finally making it to the front of the store. "Come on, it hasn't been that long of a day."

"I'm afraid this is no laughing matter," came a voice that was most definitely not George's.

Fred whirled around to the source of the voice and came face to with a wand pointed directly at his head by a masked figure in dark robes.

"Drop your wand like a good boy, or I'm afraid you won't like the consequences," the figure said, gesturing with his free hand to Fred's left. He glanced that way, eyes widening at the sight of George with a wand to his head and hands bound behind him. He mouthed something, but appeared to be under the silencing curse.

Fred let out a curse of his own and pulled out the wand he'd been reaching for in his robe pocket. The Death Eater holding onto George tightened his grip and Fred made a very careful show of placing his wand on the ground and kicking it away.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to inconspicuously move towards the front counter where the robbery alarm was. All shop owners in Diagon Alley were required to pay for them and pressing it would alert the security auror branch who were given special clearance to apparate in the alley.

"We have a special need of you two," the Death Eater said, inching forward with every step Fred took back.

"Oh, we're nothing special," Fred said, now within a few feet from his goal. "Just a couple of pranksters, right George?"

"You're important to Potter and that makes you important to us. Now, I suggest you stop moving."

"I can't help it if I don't want to be any closer to you than I have to be," Fred retorted, taking another step backwards.

The silent death eater seemed to take that as cue and uttered his first word of the night. "Crucio." George collapsed in his grasp, a wordless scream tearing from his throat.

"Okay, okay," Fred said, halting immediately and breathed a sigh of relief when the Death Eater ended the Unforgiveable. "No more moving. Got it."

"Get the picture?" the Death Eater said, sneering beneath his mask. "If you cooperate with us, maybe we'll let you live."

"Maybe?"

The man chuckled. "Can't make any promises. Especially not to a piece of filth like you."

"And here I thought we'd go out for tea after," Fred said. "But not with that attitude. You know, I've decided I really don't quite like you."

"Don't care," the Death Eater snorted. "Now, either surrender yourself peacefully or I am more than happy to use my own methods."

"You win," Fred sighed, silently screaming that he hadn't been able to reach the button. "Might as well get this over with."

"That's what I like to hear."

"You know what I like to hear?" Fred asked conversationally as he closed the space between them. "The sound a Death Eater makes when you mess up their plans."

The threat registered seconds too late. Fred was already pulling his real wand free and bellowing "REDUCTO!" at the top of his lungs, although he aimed it at the floor in front of the Death Eater's feet with the goal of pelting him with chunks of stone. The spell was not designed to be used on humans after all.

But the dark wizard lunged forward towards Fred and the momentum carried him straight into the spell. He made an inhuman scream as his legs were blasted off in a spray of blood and bone. Fred nearly froze in shock as the blood splattered onto his face, but reminded himself of what was at stake and spun abruptly, shouting "Expelliarmus" at the Death Eater holding George captive.

The offending wand flew from the dark wizard's grasp and landed neatly into Fred's. He smirked at the man and George, only to watch his twin's eyes widen in horror and his mouth open in a warning.

It was too late. He felt a blinding pain erupt on the back of his head and distantly felt himself crash to the floor. "I wondered what was taking so long," he heard a voice say, barely audible above the ringing in his ears.

A pair of nice dress shoes stopped right next to his face. "I swear I remember telling you to disarm them, McNair. And now look at you."

The wizard moaned feebly in pain, blood loss already bringing him close to passing out.

"I trust you have that one secure, Goyle? Can't afford any more mistakes like your son was, can you?"

A sharp grunt sounded.

The expensive footwear gently turned him so he was looking up at the ceiling and into the leering face of Lucius Malfoy.

"What, no quips for me?" he asked. "I must say I am impressed by the attempt, Weasley. I didn't think a goody-two shoes like you would consider such a… violent spell. Thank you for the idea, I may have to try it on your brother later tonight."

"W-what?" Fred rasped, trying to sit up but failing as ropes quickly wound themselves over him.

"The fake wand was clever too," Lucius continued, bending down to pick up the wand Fred had dropped, which turned into a bouquet of roses when he retrieved it. "Nothing less than I'd expect, actually. Which is why I suppose why our Lord insisted I come along on this little retrieval."

To Goyle he said, "Let's go. We are running behind thanks to this delay as it is."

"McNair?" Goyle asked, tightening his bruising hold on George as he struggled to break free.

"I'll take care of it. Head back with that one."

He nodded and with a bright flash that burned Fred's eyes the two disappeared. Portkey.

He groaned as Lucius Malfoy hauled him up by his hair until he was dragged to his knees. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, bound firmly by the rope and rendering him as helpless as a fish on a line.

"I suppose I ought to take you back with us, McNair," Lucius said with a put upon sigh. "Perhaps if our Lord is feeling generous in spite of your failings he'll fix you right up."

Saying so he dragged Fred across the bloodied floor to McNair and pulled out a portkey of his own. "Let's go have some fun now," he chuckled. And in a nauseating blur they too vanished.

xxx

Fred must have passed out at some point during the portkey trip, because he found himself waking up sitting incredibly uncomfortably bound in a chair in a large audience chamber.

He tugged futilely at the bonds, but all it did was chafe his wrists and cause his head to start pounding again.

"You awake?"

His brother's soft voice caused him to start and smack his head on the back of the chair. He answered with a low groan.

"What happened?" Fred asked, the words sounded slurred even to him. His brain helpfully told him he likely had a concussion and he kindly told his brain to shut the bloody hell up.

"They brought us here and seem to be all gathering outside the room," George said, his chair directly back to back with Fred's. "Didn't say anything else."

"You have any tricks up your sleeve?"

He could almost hear George shake his head. "After what you pulled they frisked us. Took our robes too." And now that he said that Fred was aware of how cold he felt with just a thin cotton shirt on in the drafty chamber.

"Think anyone knows we're missing?"

At that George let out a dark chuckle. "No. And no one will find out anything's wrong till they go to the shop tomorrow and see all the blood. McNair's dead, by the way. Saw him come in and with you and they dumped him in the corner." He jerked his chin, before realizing Fred couldn't see him. "To the far right. He stopped breathing a few minutes ago."

Under normal circumstances Fred may have felt a bit horrified that he'd killed someone. But between his concussion saying that it was funny and the situation he was currently in all he found himself able to say was, "And that's one down."

"Think this has something to do with the prophecy?" George asked quietly.

"I can't think of anything else."

"We should have been more careful," George muttered. "We're sitting flobberworms in the shop and everyone knows our location. We should have put up wards or something."

"We talked 'bout that, 'member?" Fred said, closing his eyes tiredly and willing his head to stop pounding, but it only seemed to be getting worse. "We'd have had t' close down. And we did take pre-precautions. Jus' not enough to stop them if we were an actual target."

"Why are we a target though?" George asked. "I don't understand."

"I don't think we want to find out."

"Too late. Looks like they're coming back in."

The doors in front of George were opening and Death Eaters clothed in full masks and robes filed in, filling the audience chamber to the brim. There had to be at least a couple hundred, George thought dizzily.

Then a figure he had the pleasure of not yet seeing face to face in his lifetime strolled into the chamber, a large snake hissing at his feet.

"Ah," he said softly, although his voice carried in the silent room, "the guests of honor have arrived. Welcome, welcome."

Fred wisely held his tongue even though the concussion told him this would be a great time to break the ice, possibly by insulting Voldemort's mum. George shivered that had nothing to do with the cold as the Dark Lord swept down the dais to stand just inches away, positioned so he had to crane his neck to the side to see him. He doggedly faced forward and refused to look him in the eye.

"I don't wish to bore you with details," Voldemort said pleasantly. "But I need one of you to act as a messenger for me to young Harry."

"Jus' one?" Fred slurred. "'Fraid your goons can't count. You've clearly got two of us." He managed to hold up two fingers for emphasis, but then squinted at them, seeing four. Bloody hell, his head was getting worse.

A dark chuckle was his response and both twins felt all the hairs on the back of their necks rise.

"You misunderstand, Mr. Weasley. One of you will act as messenger. The other will act as bait. I've kindly decided to let the two of you make this decision between yourselves. So, if you would discuss."

They both remained silent.

"This is your one chance to make the decision yourself," Voldemort said at the quiet. "Should you choose not to partake in my generous offer, I am more than happy to decide for you."

"I think," Fred along with his concussion said, "that both of us should be the messenger." He nodded vigorously and then winced as the world swam around him. "Whaddaya say? One of them," he said, lifting a hand in the direction of the Death Eaters, "can be the bait."

Voldemort seemed amused rather than angry. "Lucius," he called, turning towards the lowest audience level.

Lucius, one of only two Death Eaters not in a mask, stepped forward. "My Lord?"

"Dare I ask what you did to make him so entertaining?"

"I'm always entertaining," Fred called from behind them. "'s why I run a joke shop."

Lucius wasn't sure if he should be afraid right now or if his Lord's humor was true. "I hit him over the head, my Lord."

"Ah, blunt force. That always has been your style, has it not?"

Lucius chose to go with an elegant shrug.

"Well, I think this makes the decision rather obvious," Voldemort said.

"No!" George shouted, realizing what was being decided. Like hell he was going to leave his brother here.

"Ah, it speaks," Voldemort chuckled. "I was beginning to think you had gone mute."

"Let my brother go," George demanded. "I'll stay."

"A volunteer," Voldemort grinned, the expression contorting his face. "How lovely."

"No, no, no, no," Fred muttered, growing louder in volume with each iteration. "He goes. I'll stay."

"Fred, you need medical attention," George said. "You're not thinking straight."

"Like hell," Fred snapped, the sharp fear that had stabbed him at George's sacrifice pushing back some of the loopiness. "You think I'll let you stay here? With them?" He jerked his head towards the Death Eaters and regretted it immediately. He really ought to have remembered his concussion by now.

"We don't have a choice," George bit back, both bitter, angry and sad all rolled into one. "One of us gets out of here. One of us doesn't. And I'm not letting it be you."

"And I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself," Fred said.

"It's my fault we were captured in the first place," George cried, fighting back tears. It had been his own lack of awareness that allowed the Death Eaters to enter the store and his own stupidity that got him caught. And Fred had already been hurt because of him, he refused to allow anything else to happen.

"'s'not your fault," Fred murmured.

"Well," George said, "I'm older."

"By three minutes!" Fred butted in.

"And as your older brother I am ordering you to leave."

"You can't do that," Fred protested. "I'm not going without you," he said quieter. "And don't you even dare ask me to."

"I can't let you die," George whispered.

"We came into this world together," Fred continued. "Which means if we have to leave we do it the same way. Together."

"Fred..." George couldn't blink back the tears now.

"Touching," Voldemort said. "But I'm afraid your time is up. And it does not sound like you've come to a conclusive decision."

"I think we have," Fred said. He waited a beat for dramatic effect and then said with a smile, "Go to Hell, you bastard."

"I can agree with that," George said, a smile pulling up his lips too even if his tears would not stop.

"How eloquent," Voldemort sneered. "Bellatrix?"

"My Lord?" the un-masked witch asked with a curtsy.

"I've decided on how to pick our winner. Have some fun with them, my dear, and whichever one is left standing conscious shall earn the right to stay behind. The other one will be our messenger."

She gave a deranged giggle and curtsied again. "It would be my honor and pleasure, my Lord."

Sashaying her way to the dais, she smiled coyly at her audience. "What'll it be, gents? Do you prefer just spells or would you like to see some blood?"

Shouts for blood rang out and both twins mentally braced themselves for what was coming. And despite the pain that they knew was imminent, both silently made a pledge to themselves to be the last one conscious. Because if this decision was being ripped from them, if they were being forced to leave their twin behind, they would damn well make sure to protect each other to the very bitter end, desperate to believe that they could save the other's life, even if it cost them their own.

"Crucio!"

And so it began, twin screams mingling in the air.

xxx

"We have our victor," Voldemort purred, stepping through the splattered blood puddles without a care. "Well done, Bellatrix. I have not enjoyed a sight such in a long while."

She blushed at the praise and modestly said, "All for you, My Lord."

"Now we must deliver our message," Voldemort said. He reached into his sleeve and retrieved a rather worn looking brown box that proved looks could be deceiving. It was known as "Death's Doorstep" and was capable of shrinking a person down to fit inside, which is where Barty Crouch Jr. had devised the idea. Except unlike his chest that was designed to keep Moody alive, this one offered no such luxury as air. It was to be used as a message to your enemies, dropping off the body of someone as either an example or a warning.

The best part though was its effect of being able to go through any barrier. Whether it be physical or magical, the box, if pressed against anything, would go right through. Which made it ideal for getting into Hogwarts. Although they were capable of making portkeys out of the castle, it was much, much harder (and thus far impossible) to make one to go in. And due to Hogwarts' wards that prevented people from just walking in, it was not an option to physically levitate the Weasley boy up the side of the tower.

Owls though could get through. And with the human life form encased in a spelled box, it would look no different than any other package and could easily get into Hogwarts and deliver it directly to Harry.

Voldemort held it up and the chosen Weasley twin was sucked into it without even a cry as he bordered on consciousness. Voldemort tossed in an awakening spell after him. It would do no good for their messenger to pass out and not be able to relay his mission.

"Lucius," Voldemort summoned his right-hand man. "I trust you made the necessary preparations?"

"Everything is set, my Lord."

"Good. Then go deliver our message to Harry." Voldemort handed the box to him along with a portkey that would deliver him directly outside Hogwarts' boundary. Apparting would be easier, but unfortunately the Ministry did not allow apparation except in the atrium. "I anticipate he will be along very shortly."

Lucius bowed. "It shall be done." And without a sound he disappeared in a swirl of color.

Moments later he popped out in front of Hogwarts gates. Brushing his hair back from the journey, Lucius allowed himself a moment to look the box in his hand with glee. How smoothly everything was coming together! And it would have been impossible without him. Surely he would be rewarded greatly when all was said and done.

But time was of the essence, so rather than taking any more time to gloat, he pulled the pre-written note for this occasion from his jacket pocket and affixed it to the top of the small chest.

"Remember," he said, giving it a shake. "You only have three minutes to save your brother. Should you fail, well... I suppose you get to live the short remainder of your life knowing you were responsible for his death."

He gave a sharp whistle and his black hawk flew down from a nearby tree where he'd instructed the bird to land earlier in the day.

"Take this to Potter," he commanded, affixing the package to the hawk's leg. "And make it a show, won't you?"

The bird gave a sharp screech and took to the sky, bearing right towards Gryffindor Tower. Lucius waited until he faintly heard the shower of glass thanks to the box's properties and a minute later the eagle re-emerged and flew to his outstretched arm.

"Excellent work," he crooned, running a finger down the feathered head. The bird preened. A few moments later he received a heated pulse from his ring where he'd spelled the box to notify him when it had been opened

"Back to the manor with you," Lucius told the hawk. It took off with a harsh shriek and Lucius cast one last glance at Hogwarts before he used the reverse portkey to head back to the Ministry. He didn't want to be late to the party after all.

Upstairs in Gryffindor Tower everyone was awoken by the harsh shattering of the window and the screeching crow of a bird.

"What the—?" Ron started, falling out of bed as a jet-black hawk circled the room, still cawing, a small wooden chest and note strapped to its leg. How on earth had a bird broken through the window? They were all charmed to be indestructible.

Dean raised an arm up to coax the bird to land, but it nearly bit him instead and he hastily brought his hand close to his chest, making sure all of his digits were still there.

The hawk came to a landing all by itself on the foot of Harry's bed, who was still fumbling to put on his glasses.

"Is it from the Order?" Neville asked as Harry hesitantly reached out a hand to untie the parcel, surprised as the rest of them when the bird let him although it gave him a positively diabolical stare the entire time.

"I don't think they'd break the window," Ron muttered, pulling his wand out and releasing Harry from his binding spell. He was getting a very bad feeling about whatever was in the box and it would be best if Harry wasn't confined to the space of his bed.

As soon as Harry pulled the package free the bird jumped into the air and immediately back out the window and sped off into the night.

"Should we get Hermione?" Ron asked as Harry went to unfold the note. "Make sure it's safe?"

"I don't think that thing is remotely safe," Dean said. "Large black hawk breaking our window and giving random packages to Harry? Nothing about that screams of good intentions to me."

Harry meanwhile had unfolded the note and paled.

"Time is ticking," the note read. "There's maybe a few seconds left of air in there. Don't you want to save him?"

"Someone is in there?" Neville whispered, having read the note over Harry's shoulder.

Definitely not good. Not good at all.

"I have to open it," Harry decided, already going for the latch. Consequences be damned if there really was someone trapped in there. And if it caused a giant explosion… well, Hermione could scold him and say "I told you so" as much as she liked when he was recovering.

"Harry, don't-" Ron started, his words cutting off as Harry yelped in pain as the metal glowed red hot under his hand and then a bright light blinded all of them.

When it cleared there was a figure lying across the foot of Harry's bed, shaking and panting.

"George?" Ron gaped incredulously.

His older brother sucked in another desperate breath before he looked up at the gathered Gryffindors, wild panic in his eyes.

"They've got Fred," he gasped, blood trickling out of his mouth as he spoke. "They're going to kill him!"

"What?" Ron whispered, feeling like he couldn't breathe either.

"Who's got him?" Seamus asked. "What bloody happened?"

"Harry, please," George pleaded. "He only has three minutes."

"I don't understand," Harry said, feeling like the rug had been literally ripped out from underneath him. Everything seemed to be blurring together and he felt himself sway, grateful he was already sitting. "How...?"

"Death Eaters," George said, voice cracking. "They-" A shudder ran through his body in what Harry immediately recognized as a symptom from the Cruciatus. "They got the better of us. Took us somewhere. Large audience hall. Don't know where. " He coughed, more blood flecking his lips and Ron rushed to his side as he fell forward from his kneeling position.

"Go get McGonagall," Ron snapped at the room. "And Dumbledore! Hurry!"

Neville and Seamus both took off like jackrabbits while Dean yelled that he was going to get Hermione and sprinted from the room as well.

"Hey, hey," Ron murmured, holding his brother's shaking and bloody form.

"They need Harry," George continued, his hand fisting tightly in Ron's shirt as tears now mingled with the blood on his face. "They gave me this." He fumbled for a cord hanging around his neck, and Ron helped guide it over his head. Hanging on the string was a rock pendant in pure black. "Said it's a portkey. Only Harry can use it."

Harry reached for it, but Ron snatched it away. "You might activate it," he said, clenching his other fist tightly around the stone.

"It's only good for three minutes," George said desperately, turning wide brown eyes to bore into Harry's emerald. "They'll kill him if you don't show."

"This isn't right," Ron muttered, his mind racing as Harry continued to resemble a statue, horror freezing him to the spot. The Death Eaters were supposed to come to Hogwarts. They were supposed to fight them here. Harry couldn't go to them; he needed time to set up the spell. Otherwise they couldn't kill Voldemort.

But if Harry didn't go now his brother would die. That is, if Voldemort didn't choose to kill him anyway. Which he would. The only reason George was alive was because he wanted a messenger.

"Harry," George begged, fear and pain not letting him think rationally. He just wanted his twin back. He had to get him back. He couldn't live without him. "Please..."

"I..." Harry breathed, eyes wide with panic as well. "I..."

He wanted to go. He needed to go. It was his fault Fred was in danger. That he might die. But if he showed up now he ruined the rest of the world's chance because he would die. He knew it. This was a trap, but unlike with Sirius this one had a real victim.

He looked at George's tear stained and desperate face, shaking in Ron's arms. How could he tell George no? There had to be a way he could make this work. Pop in there, under his invisibility cloak, race for Fred and then what? Apprate them to safety? He had no idea how to apparate. Fred would though, if he was in any condition to apparate. And looking at George, Harry wasn't sure. But desperation made people strong.

"Please," George whispered brokenly. "I can't..."

"Give me the stone," Harry said, mind made up. He would figure something out. He had to. Because if he died there then the prophecy was wrong and then they were all screwed anyway.

"Harry, you can't," Ron choked. "You'll die! He'll kill you!"

"I have to do something," Harry snapped, hopping off his bed and going for his invisibility cloak. It would hopefully buy him a few seconds.

"They'll still kill Fred!" Ron roared. "You know that, Harry. You know they wouldn't let him live." In his arms George hiccupped a sob, which turned into a wracking cough.

"I have to try," Harry fired back, jamming his feet into his shoes.

He threw the invisibility cloak over his arm and held out his hand for his wand and the portkey. "Give it to me," he said.

"I can't lose you too," Ron whispered.

"I'll come back," Harry promised.

"You don't know that."

"I always have before."

Harry could see Ron's resolve crumbling, made all the more when George murmured his twin's name.

"You better," Ron ordered. "Your wand is on my nightstand."

Harry scooped it up on seconds and held out his hand again for the stone.

"Promise me you'll come back. With Fred," Ron said, voice wavering as his fist shook.

"I'll do my best."

With a sob Ron released his hold on the portkey and it fell agonizingly slow into Harry's hand. But instead of the quick rush and stomach churning whirl that was normally accompanied with the activation of a portkey, this time he felt nothing and remained firmly in Gryffindor Tower.

Harry's eyes widened in horror and he met Ron's, reflecting the same shock and grief back at him. George's anguished cry echoed about the room as the pendant fell limply to the floor.

They were too late.

And now Fred would die.

Author's Notes:

We're getting into the end here, although slow and steady shall win this race as I've only been leading up to it since forever. If you enjoyed the chapter please do leave a review. Thanks!

Updated: December 10, 2017