Chapter 7: To Keep Him Safe (George's Interlude)

The battle for Azkaban was nothing like George had expected. He'd imagined glory, fierce bravery, quick victory. Instead, he was met with darkness, violence, and the heart-pounding realization that he was very likely going to die.

They'd gotten there too late, somehow arriving nearly an hour after Voldemort had. The prison had already fallen: guards dead, prisoners freed, Dementors loose.

They'd lost before the battle had even begun. But battle they did, hoping to contain some of the escapees, hoping to gain some ground.

When George saw Umbridge among the escaped prisoners, he headed straight for her, determined to take her down. He would make her pay for the white lines carved into Harry's arm, make her pay for daring to hurt him.

Before he could reach her, Voldemort appeared, red eyes gleaming through the heavy darkness, an army of newly-formed Inferi following behind. When the snake-like man lifted his wand and uttered those dreaded words, George braced himself, expecting death, expecting the cold green light to envelop him.

It didn't.

The Spell hadn't worked.

Voldemort seemed just as shocked as he was, trying again in the same breath. He failed once again, drawing the attention of Death Eater and Order member alike. The Great Lord Voldemort, unable to cast his signature Spell. It was a sight to see.

George would bet all his Galleons that Harry was behind this, somehow influencing Voldemort's mind, somehow staying his hand. He didn't know whether to be worried or angry, amazed or furious. He was often caught between these emotions when it came to Harry, not knowing whether to praise or chastise. Harry was so careless with himself, so damned self-sacrificing. It made George's blood boil and his heart swell. Harry was so profoundly good but so stupidly noble. Noble to the point that it made George want to hide him away from the world, keeping him safe from his own selflessness.

Deep down, he knew he couldn't force Harry to keep himself out of this fight. Harry would never abandon the Wizarding World. He would do everything it took to save them, handing over his own life in a heartbeat. It made George sick to think of how easily Harry would accept his own death. It made him sick to think of a life without Harry in it. He didn't think such a life was worth living.

When the Death Eaters left, taking the Dementors with them, the Order simply stood there for a moment, breathing. They'd lost the prison, but they hadn't lost a single member. Everyone who had come to the island would be leaving it.

It was a strange mix of sorrow and relief. They hadn't succeeded, but they were still alive. Perhaps that was enough these days.

Most of the members headed directly home, deciding to leave the debrief for the next day. They were tired and defeated, hardly in the right mood to sit through one of Dumbledore's pep talks. The residents of Grimmauld Place took a Portkey back, thinking only of their beds.

George expected to be met with a quiet house, hoping that Harry and the others were still sleeping.

They weren't.

As soon as they entered the house, Ron came hurtling down the stairs, face white, eyes wide.

"We need help!" he yelled, voice shaking in a way that made George's heart clench.

"Something happened to Harry, and we don't…"

George didn't stop to hear the rest, racing up the stairs toward Harry's room. What he saw would be etched in his brain for years to come.

Harry was still in his sleeping bag on the ground, head cradled in Hermione's lap. He was terribly pale, lips colorless. He was shaking violently, limbs jerking around even as Ginny struggled to hold him steady. He seemed to be unconscious, but he was clearly in pain, biting his lip so hard it was bleeding, a steady trickle of red snaking down his face.

"What happened?" Sirius croaked, panting from his own mad dash up the stairs.

The man moved over to Harry, lifting one of his hands, pulling at his fingers. George felt his heart stop as he noticed the blood welling from Harry's palms, nails having sunk deep into the flesh.

"We don't know," Hermione said, gently brushing some of Harry's hair off his forehead.

"He woke up and started thrashing around. Then…"

She took in a shaky breath, looking more upset than George had ever seen her.

"He started screaming, begging us to help him. He said he was on fire, a-asked us to douse the f-flames."

She raised a hand to wipe at her eyes, brushing away her tears.

"W-we had to Stun him. He was going to hurt himself."

"He's Stunned right now?" Sirius asked, shocked.

"He shouldn't be in any pain...he should be completely out of it…"

Harry jerked again, ripping his hand from Sirius' grasp. George moved over to the group, sitting down on the floor and reaching down to take one of Harry's hands. Harry stilled slightly at the gesture, face relaxing just a little.

"Merlin..."

Everyone turned to look at Bill, watching as insight flashed across his face.

"I know what this is!"

He raced from the room, returning less than 5 minutes later with an old book clutched in his hand.

"What is it? What's happening to him?" Remus asked.

"It's a Legilimency attack meant to cause unbearable pain. It makes the person feel like they're on fire. It's a modification of one of the Curses Egyptian Wizards used to put on their tombs. I've heard of it."

"Can you undo it?" George asked, watching as Harry gave another shudder, digging his fingernails deeper into his palms.

George tried to stop him, but Harry was surprisingly strong when he wanted to be, completely resisting his efforts.

"Yes," Bill said, moving over to Harry.

"You'll need to hold him though. We have to wake him up, and this will be very painful."

They rearranged themselves, trying to figure out the best way to stop Harry from hurting himself. George took Hermione's place, transferring Harry's head from her lap to his, hoping he could provide some comfort.

Sirius, Remus, Percy, and Fred placed themselves around Harry, putting pressure on his shaking limbs, holding him down.

"Alright," Bill said, sinking down next to George, book open in front of him.

"I'm going to wake him up. Don't freak out."

George knew that Bill was talking directly to him.

"Ennervate."

Harry's eyes snapped open, searching the room desperately. He began to move even more frantically, trying to escape the hands holding him down. He hardly looked like Harry at all, green irises clouded over with pain and desperation.

The worst thing was the sound. Harry was making a strangled gasping noise, clearly in a terrible amount of agony. George felt his heart shatter at the sound, wishing he could be the one dealing with this. Why did it always have to be Harry? Why couldn't it, just this once, be someone else? Why couldn't it be George?

"Shhhhh…." he whispered, carding his fingers through that ridiculous hair.

"It's alright, Harry. It's gonna be fine."

Those eyes stared right up at him, searching his face. They cleared just a little, recognition dawning.

Then, Bill began chanting, foreign words ringing in the air, wand waving over Harry's head and chest.

Harry thrashed harder under their hands, face contorted in pain, eyes wild.

George didn't know how long they sat there, but it felt like decades, seconds stretching into years as he watched Harry suffer. He never wanted to watch this again, never wanted Harry to go through it again.

When Bill finally stopped chanting, Harry collapsed in on himself, all resistance leaving him. Bill sighed, closing the book with a snap.

"He'll have a bitch of a headache, but he'll be fine."

Harry was still shaking too badly to stand, but his color was coming back, lips regaining their pinkish hue. Sirius transferred him to his bed, hovering over him like Mum always did, healing his hands and lip with a wave of his wand.

Remus finally pulled Sirius away, saying something about needing to sleep.

George couldn't bring himself to leave, simply standing there, staring.

He knew that he should go back to his room but…

No.

He wasn't going to do that.

He was going to stay right here. With Harry. Where he belonged.

He knew how much Harry needed physical contact. He was a very snuggly person, though George would never say so to his face. It was the one thing that George resolved to always provide, knowing that Harry hadn't had nearly enough of it in his short life.

George was going to make up for all the hugs Harry hadn't received during his childhood. It was a promise he'd made to himself the very first time Harry had fallen asleep on him in the Gryffindor Common Room. He'd seen how relaxed he'd looked, so different from the anxiety that sometimes radiated from him. George had resolved right there to always be a shoulder for Harry to fall asleep on, even if that was all he would ever be.

He transfigured his clothes into something resembling pajamas, approaching Harry quietly, not wanting to worsen his headache.

"What about your Mum?" Harry muttered, pulling back the duvet.

George slid in beside him, wrapping an arm around him. Harry immediately leaned into the touch, face relaxing further.

"Who cares what she thinks?" George whispered, watching the moonlight play over Harry's features.

"I'm not going anywhere."

I felt bad for leaving y'all hanging off a cliff, so here's a baby chapter to calm your fears! George's POV won't be a regular thing, but it may happen a few times in the future. I hope everyone like having a glimpse into the head of our favorite Weasley twin.

A full-length, Harry-centric chapter is still coming on MONDAY! See y'all then :)

Thanks as always for all the lovely comments. I really enjoy hearing from everyone!