Chapter 1

It was eclectic. That was what Angelina liked most about Fred's camp. Unlike George's, which consisted of rings of canvas tents with the most important people in the center, Fred's was just a smattering of people stuck in the middle of the country. There were no designated walkways like in George's camp, which were organized by Susan Bones herself, but you could tell from the pattern that the grass was worn where people liked to walk. Looking at the way that the two of them worked, sometimes it was hard to tell that they were even twins.

What Angelina had not liked, however, were the long and worn faces of the people in the camp. Almost as if they had been going hungry for a very long time. It wasn't about how much food that they had been eating, and she could tell this from their eyes. It looked as if they were mentally exhausted, as if it was their souls that were really what was hungry.

Angelina observed this as she sat cross-legged by the fire and ate soup from a bowl that someone had handed her. She normally wasn't any good at reading people. She had no insight into the minds of anyone. These walking talking machines weren't people, though. They had been stripped bare, and were open books. She watched as they mechanically brought their spoons to their lips, and ate listlessly only to keep themselves alive.

In neither of the other camps had Angelina seen such hopelessness and a sense of loss. She had been to all three of them and had stayed as long as she could do any good for anyone who was inside.

Bill had managed to hold down Grimmauld Place mostly by himself. It had once been the stronghold of their entire 'army', and then there were just too many of them. That was when Bill, Fred and George decided that they had to separate. It was also when Grimmauld place had become their hospital and main base. It was the most useful of the three camps because it had a fireplace that was connected to the Floo network, all thanks to a few good wizards and witches who were working inside the ranks of the Death Eaters. In the other two camps the only way to enter them is to either portkey or fly. There were anti-Apparation spells set on them.

George's camp was by far more dangerous than Grimmauld Place. Angelina had gone with his group in the beginning so that she could be with Alicia and Katie. It was situated on the edge of a large forest and was much safer than Angelina had first imagined, because the centaurs looked out for them where their camp brushed the trees. At first, George was easy going and fun. Then came the first attack, before they had managed to finish concealing and cursing and hexing. George wasn't so easygoing any more, and took the utmost care in the planning and operating of the camp. She had been curse-breaking at George's camp for more than a year when he asked for volunteers to move to Fred's camp. So here she was now.

Angelina hadn't recognized Fred when he had walked through the crowd. He looked just like his father, and identical to George--pale and drawn and exhausted. When he came to shake her hand, she noticed deep worry lines on the forehead of this twenty-one-year-old man. Those concerned her. But what really set her on edge was the way that he looked through her as if he never knew her, and when their eyes finally met he looked away with a jerky motion.

Hannah came to sit by her, and Angelina made room. Hannah was hardly the same person that she had been at Hogwarts. Angelina only remembered seeing her in the DA, but she was always small and quiet and she pretended that she was invisible. Now she still looked nearly the same, but something had changed about her that Angelina couldn't put her finger on. Hannah didn't shrink away from people anymore and, as a result, had become a close friend of hers.

"It's awfully quiet around here." Hannah pointed out the obvious in an awfully quiet voice herself. She tilted her soup bowl around and watched the soup settle back in the bottom. "Fred is awfully quiet, too. Just like George was."

Angelina nodded and watched Kevin Whitby, the other new implant, talk to a somber-looking girl in an animated fashion. "Hard to believe that they're the same people." She agreed. Tapping her spoon on the bottom of the bowl, she watched the fire.

"Remember when they were at Hogwarts? Remember The Flight of The Weasleys?" Hannah asked as she set her nearly empty bowl on the ground in front of her.

Angelina looked up at her. The bright light from the fire still danced in her eyes, and she blinked wildly to clear her vision. "Vividly." She told Hannah, avoiding her eyes. The truth was that she did, in fact, remember the Flight. And did so vividly. However…It wasn't something that she had liked to talk about. Neither of them had told her that they were going. She hadn't known. She hadn't even had time to say goodbye.

The sharp point of Hannah's elbow rammed into her ribs and she heard a sharp intake of breath beside her. "Speak of the devil." Hannah whispered into her ear. Angelina followed her line of sight and, sure enough, Fred was walking from his tent. In addition to his youthfulness, Angelina noted that he had also lost his cocky amble. He looked adult, exactly what she had thought before. She noticed amusingly, but without humor, that his shoes were on the right feet this time.

An old man handed Fred a bowl of soup, and Fred took it. Angelina watched as he gave a nod in thanks, but never once looked the man in the eye. It was practiced and precise—Angelina had the feeling that he had worked very hard at the art of acknowledging and ignoring.

Fred held the soup between two hands for a moment, and just looked at it. It was almost as if he was enjoying the warmth, but this didn't make any sense as there was a bonfire, and he was a wizard. He could cast a heating charm anytime that he desired. Then, in one abrupt movement, Fred crossed his ankles and dropped straight to the ground, ending up in a cross-legged position. Angelina started. Not because of the quick movement, for she had seen it many times before, but because of the fact that he was right across the fire from herself. And Hannah. She couldn't forget Hannah, who was currently making a clattering noise as she scraped the sides of her bowl.

Angelina had the overwhelming need to turn to Hannah and tell her where, exactly, to shove her bloody bowl, but didn't dare say anything. Instead, she just watched him across the fire, convinced that the only reason for this was her overwhelming curiosity as to how he became whatever he was now.

Instead of eating his soup like a normal person, Fred just looked into the bowl. Angelina was reminded of herself a few minutes ago, and came to the conclusion that he must be lost in thought. Hannah chose this moment to drop the spoon into the bowl with an air of finality, and to lean back and comment loudly on how dark it was

Fred was yanked from his reverie.As he lookedacross the fire to Hannah, Angelina caught his eyes. Instead of looking away like he did the last time, he held her gaze. The same fire that had been reflected in her eyes a moment ago was now reflected in his. A slight expression of recognition passed over his face, it was barely noticeable…and then nothing. Again, Fred had steeled himself.

Fred had frozen with his head up, face alert and expression stilled. His eyes watched a point beyond Angelina, and she cursed herself for losing him. The full soup bowl fell from his hand and his fingers inched toward his pocket slowly. So very slowly.

That was when Angelina heard the first scream, shrill, mature, and unbroken. It shattered the beautiful night. Fred sprung up without a word, his wand pulled, and with an energy that she was lacking. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she felt sick.

Then came the second—short, high-pitched, childlike, and frightened. That was when Angelina saw a bit of panic register on Fred's face. There was no doubt that this expression was mirrored on her own.