It took the Weasley children a while to settle with the thought that their parents were off fighting Lord Voldemort. Harry sat often by the kitchen table next to Ron, almost worried sick about Ron's parents. Hermione, who came by about a dozen times per week, always looked at Harry when she came in through the door. If Harry nodded, the Weasleys were still alive. Then Hermione would come in, hug both Ron and Harry, and then sit down to drink a cup of tea with them, discussing the problems about the fight with Voldemort. None of them ever mentioned Ron's parents.

About two weeks from the day that Arthur and Molly Weasley had left the Burrow, all the Weasley children were home. Both Harry and Hermione were there. They all sat in the living room, talking. Drinking his tea, Harry felt warm, but still worried. What if the Weasleys were dead, but no one knew?

"Wonder what Dumbledore's doing." Everyone turned to look as Fred. He had been sitting watching the old Grandfather clock.

"Why?" Bill asked, running his hand though his red hair. It was almost as untidy as Harry's now; because Bill ran his hand though his hair at least on time an hour. Fred looked up at his older brother, and shook his head.

"I mean what McGonagall said. What it Dumbledore really don't know what to do?"

Ron shuddered.

"I dunno, Fred… But I believe that Dumbledore knows what to do." Neither Fred nor Bill said anything. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other.

"Come on!" Harry said. "Don't be so down." George almost threw himself over him.

"Don't say that!" he shouted. "It's not your parents who's out there fighting that monster!"

Charlie, Fred, Ron and Bill grabbed him by the arms and pulled him backwards. Hermione was pearly white. Ginny looked shocked at her older brother, but glanced quickly at Harry.

Harry was pale, but his eyes were almost black.

"No, you're right, George. My parents died because of him twenty-one years ago." He got to his feet. "But I'm getting used to it now."

"Grow up, Harry!" George yelled. "Don't sound like a tragic hero, because you're not! You're just someone who survived the Killing Curse!"

"Well, yeah, you're right, George," Harry said calmly. "I don't want to be a tragic hero. It's just one problem: Everyone treats me as if I was!"

"Idiots." Someone muttered. Both Harry and George flung around and stared at Charlie.

"Excuse me?" George said. "What did you call us?"

"Idiots," Charlie said, and his voice was dangerously calm. "I don't see any reason to why you two are behaving like this."

"He called me a tragic hero," Harry said.

"He insulted me," George mumbled. Charlie shook his head.

"You are both childish. For God's sake, we're all worried about dad and mum, but you two actually start fighting because of it. You're more than twenty years old, both of you, can't you behave?"

Harry sat down and stared at the Grandfather clock.

"Sorry, Charlie," he said.

George stared at his older brother for a moment, then he turned around and walked to the table to pour himself a cup of tea.

"Yeah, me too, Charlie," he said in a dull voice. A single tear came down his cheek.

"I just can't take it! Mum and Dad can be dead right now, and we can't do anything!" He started to cry. Hermione got to her feet and embraced him. He cried, his shoulders were shaking.

"George…" Hermione said in a calming voice. Please… don't cry." George's brothers stared shocked at them, but Ginny came to her feet too and hugged her older brother.

"George, we have to be strong right now. Don't cry." Fred shook his head.

"This must be the first time I see George cry." Ron stared at him in amazement.

"He must have cried before this!" Fred looked at him with a sad smile on his face.

"No, actually not. We're not that kind, you know." George looked up at them and wiped the tears off his face.

"I don't think I've ever seen you cry either, Fred." The twins looked at each other for a moment.

"No, perhaps not," Fred said calmly. Charlie threw a questioning glance at Bill, who nodded.

"I've never thought about it," Bill said and frowned, "but when I think of it, the only time I've heard you cry, was when Charlie took your broomsticks when you were about five." He smiled. "God, you cried."

Harry sat looking at the Grandfather clock. Suddenly two of the golden hands started to move.

"Hang on," he said. Everyone turned to look at him.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Charlie said. "Is it your scar?"

"It's the Grandfather clock," Harry breathed. "Look." Eight pair of eyes followed the two golden hands when they slowly travelled around the face of the clock.

"I wonder where they will stop?" Ron mumbled. Suddenly, they stopped.

"Oh God," Bill whispered. George started to cry again. Fred looked down at his hands. Ginny and Hermione hugged each other and Ron and Charlie looked at the clock as though they refused to believe it. Harry had trouble breathing.

The two golden hands with the names Mr Weasley and Mrs Weasley had stopped on "mortal peril".