Bill barely recognized the school he'd called home for seven years. And he meant that quite literally. This wasn't one of those nostalgic moments where he'd realized how much he'd changed and grown; rather, he was currently actively struggling to figure out where he was.

Holes blasted through walls; corridors caved in at parts; stairways to nowhere; statues and familiar markers gone. Even the familiar portraits had vacated their frames, so he could never be sure what floor he was on or what corridor he needed to turn on. All he knew was that he needed to get down.

He hadn't been able to find Fleur where he thought she'd be, which was unsettling. He only hoped that she'd gone down the rest of the way with Flitwick and was safe. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do to find her once he got to the ground level, but he had to believe he'd find her; that she was alive and well.

He darted down the open corridors and stairways when he could find them, encountering friends and foes alike, having to fire spells at people looking to end him, blasting through rocks to get where he needed to go. It was complicated maneuvering his way down, but that did not compare to the absolute chaos he encountered once he reached the bottom of the main stairs.

There were duelers everywhere, spells flying in a dizzy manner that Bill couldn't tell who'd shot what. On top of that, Peeves the Poltergeist was busy causing his own form of mayhem by dropping—what looked like—Snargaluff pods onto Death Eaters heads at random, engulfing them in green tubers that overwhelmed their faces and appeared to be suffocating them.

Gruesome way to go…

Students were everywhere, locked into duels with Death Eaters who were likely twice their age. Bill spotted Dean battling one called Dolohov; Neville and some cohorts were rushing by with their arms full of nasty looking plants that clued Bill in to where Peeves was getting his steady supply from.

Kingsley was dueling a masked man, their spells slicing through the air as they weaved and dodged, but what caught Bill's attention then was the sight of Yaxley near the front doors fighting with Flitwick. If Flitwick had made it all the way down here, did that mean Fleur was near?

Bill felt a spell zip past his head, and he immediately knew that he'd been standing stationary for too long. He was a sitting duck if he didn't move, so he quickly ducked toward a nearby stone pedestal on the left side of the room that once held a gargoyle. He peered around it, wanting to fire off spells and help his allies, but the room was so crowded with people in combat that it would be next to impossible to strike the right people.

Close by, a masked Death Eater was fighting a very young looking boy—one that Bill refused to believe was older than Ginny, which meant he was likely underage. The boy was starting to crumble under the intense firing skill of the Death Eater. It was obvious given his body language and expression that he didn't have much more to give, so Bill stepped forward and attempted to provoke the Death Eater with a few well aimed spells in his direction.

They didn't bite. It was as if he wanted to take out the child specifically.

"Oi!" Bill shouted, charging forward and now firing off spells to force the Death Eater's hand. The moment the Death Eater had turned, the kid had collapsed, though Bill couldn't be sure if that was due to getting hit or sheer exhaustion. He couldn't check to be sure since he'd successfully managed to capture the Death Eater's attention; he was now the target.

The Death Eater cackled, firing off a Killing Curse that Bill dodged.

"You won't defeat the Dark Lord!"

"Right now," Bill shouted back, firing off a Binding Spell. "I'm just looking to get through you."

Back and forth they went; Bill fighting with every ounce of energy he had to keep himself alive; trying his best to react instead of overreact. It was hard not to when this arsehole was firing off Killing Curses left and right.

Dueling had never been Bill's strong suit. In theory, he should have been great given how deep his knowledge of spell work went, but his instincts were more forced than natural. At least, that's what Flitwick had told him when he'd been a teenager.

"You understand what to do, Mr. Weasley, but you take far too long to do it," Flitwick had told him during a dueling course he'd hosted one evening at school. Bill had been about sixteen.

"Sorry, sir?" Bill had asked, his face screwed up into mild confusion. He didn't have a big head about his top marks and usually highly praised skills, but he had to admit, hearing he wasn't good at something was…new. He naturally just rose to the top of everything.

Plus, he thought he'd been doing well.

"You think too much," Flitwick had told him. "Which doesn't surprise me because you are a very clever young man. Nine times out of ten, all that thinking you do will serve you well."

He threw Bill a very deliberate look. "Until you're confronted with someone who wants to do you harm. Then all that thinking will do nothing but slow you down while your opponent takes advantage of that."

Flitwick proceeded to address the rest of the room then, which was about twenty other six and seventh-years.

"Successful dueling is instinctive," he continued. "The best duelers cannot be taught, for that instinct is natural and cannot be forced. However, I'm not here to teach you how to become the best duelers. I'm here to teach you how to handle yourself in a duel. To tap into what instincts you do possess and push out the other voice in your head that will have you second guessing yourself."

"Sir," came the voice of a Ravenclaw girl. "Do you find yourself dueling often? As in, actual duels, not those for teaching or competing. And if so…why?"

There was a mild chuckle at that, while Flitwick forced a polite smile. "I have been in several, life saving duels before, yes. The war was full of them."

"Yes, but sir," came the voice of one of Bill's mates, a bloke called Sam. "The war is over. You-Know-Who is gone. We're not in the past where his supporters are turning up on doorsteps to kill entire families."

Flitwick was nodding a bit. "Yes, thankfully those dark days are behind us. But realize that while You-Know-Who may be gone—which some people question if that's even true—there will always be people wanting power and things that don't belong to them. Better to be prepared to handle the worst than be woefully unprepared when it comes."

He then walked back over to where Bill was standing with his wand hanging at his side. "Mr. Wealsey, let's try again. And this time, try not to think so much about what you want to do and just 'do'."

"Just do." That had been easier said than done in that lesson, and it was still easier said than done now that he was fighting this Death Eater, throwing up Protection Spells and bobbing and weaving himself away from things that would certainly kill him. He was wishing he'd paid closer attention to Flitwick's process in those dueling lessons now that he was head-to-head with some master dueling Death Eater.

But he hadn't. Because even he could admit that—like his friends at the time—he'd been lulled into a sense of "You-Know-Who is gone. We're safe now" and hadn't taken things nearly as seriously as he should have.

It was mad how wrong they'd all been.

Bill sent a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater, who dodged it easily, but then collapsed to the ground less than ten seconds later for seemingly no reason. Bill let himself be confused briefly before he turned to see Flitwick rushing by, as if on his way to find his next target. He'd thrown Bill a smile as he dashed off.

Bill took off in the direction Flitwick had, hoping to ask him about Fleur, but his old Charms' professor proved to be incredibly quick and resourceful, already having disappeared into the chaos. Bill ducked back against the wall, running alongside it and now and choosing to act more like Flitwick just had by casting sniper-like spells to those nearby who looked as if they needed the assistance. Mainly students who'd been cornered by bigger, more experienced Death Eaters. Bill had started taking them out as best he could while standing in the wings, nailing at least two back-to-back.

While he may not have been a terrific dueler, when given the chance to take a moment and plan his attack, he wasn't too bad.

He'd been about to make a break for the front door—to see if Fleur was out there and if he could help outside—when a sight straight out of a hellish nightmare suddenly burst into the Great Hall. It was taking the shape of a hundred massive spiders that were now pouring through the front doors.

People on both sides started screaming and retreating in various directions; Bill immediately began backing up and trying to reach higher ground, just as spells all around the room began shooting straight at the cluster of creatures.

Several of the spiders were struck and taken out, their eight-legged bodies flying up in the air, just as the sudden and surprising form of Hagrid—brandishing a pink umbrella—came barrelling down the main stairs, screaming not to hurt them.

Bill couldn't be sure whether he was talking to the spiders or the fighters.

The screaming and spells didn't cease, and Bill watched in horror as the Acromantulas somehow picked up Hagrid and engulfed him within their cluster; immediately turning to go back where they came from and out the front doors of the castle.

Hagrid seemed to have been swallowed up by the sea of spiders, and whether that was a figurative or literal statement, Bill couldn't be sure. He began firing more and more spells at the beasts, hoping to help Hagrid, but the half-giant's form had completely disappeared within the moving mass; he and the spiders were out of the castle almost as quickly as they'd arrived.

Bill stared in shock at what he'd just witnessed, as did much of the room. The shock was, however, short-lived once the remaining Death Eaters and rebels began turning their wands back on each other. There were no longer as many people in the Entrance Hall as there had been before; many had dashed out the front door at the spiders' arrival.

What remained were now being particularly subjected to Peeves' mayhem as he continued to drop horrible things on their heads, all while hollering some sort of song about how "the spideys and ghoulies are crawling about! You don't stand a chance and it's best you get out!"

With a second to spare, Bill suddenly ducked a spell that had been coming for his head, now staying close to the floor and crawling a bit to stay out of the line of fire. However, he wasn't quite prepared for what he found when he really processed what was on the floor. It was here that he got a better view of the casualties and bodies that were lying about—some so painfully young looking.

Others so…familiar.

He had crawled over to a body he noticed about ten yards away, drawn to it like a moth to a flame because he refused to believe his own eyes. He had to be imagining it. It couldn't possibly be…

"Lupin," Bill said upon reaching him, immediately using his arms to shake him, going so far as to smack him on the face harder than he probably should have. "Lupin, come on. You can't…"

He blinked and stared into Remus' emotionless, vacant expression. He gave him another shake, this one much harder. He had to be stunned or petrified. He couldn't be…Seriously, he couldn't actually be…

He glanced around. People were dueling and fighting; no one was there to help. And even if someone could, the ten other bodies scattered around the Entrance Hall likely needed just as much help.

Or they didn't need help at all because they were gone too.

They were gone too. Bill had said it before he wanted to admit it to himself, but he knew that was the truth. They were gone, just as Lupin was gone. Because when he turned back to look at Lupin's empty face, he knew that's exactly what those still, vacant eyes were telling him.

There was no help to give. Lupin was dead.

Bill let out a single cry of surprise—of alarm, fear, panic, sadness, and shock. When he looked around at the other bodies, it was starting to hit him that they were all dead. These people were dead. People were fucking dying everywhere he looked.

It had taken him to that very second for it to truly sink in. He'd known people were going to die, but knowing people were dying was very different than seeing them dead. It was even more shocking when the bodies were people he knew. People who were supposed to walk out of the other end of the battle alive. People who were his friends. People who had a newborn son at home…

The castle walls shook again and debris began to fall from the upper balcony. Bill threw himself on top of Lupin's body as if to protect it, all while people stopped dueling to take cover. He luckily avoided any falling objects hitting him, but he did the only thing he thought to do, which was stand and pull Lupin further toward the side of the room in order to offer him more protection.

At the very least, his family was owed a body to bury that was not crushed by falling rocks.

He stepped back from Lupin, not wanting to leave him unattended, but also knowing he could not stay here. He almost didn't know what to do; everything had changed in an instant. All he wanted was to find his family and make sure they were safe. He wanted to find Fleur and make sure….

His breath caught in his chest. Fuck, what if she was dead too?

He felt his body slowly fill with an intense burning feeling. A burning of fear, of rage, and of revenge. He didn't know who'd killed Remus, but he wanted them all dead now. He wanted the people who killed his friend, as well as all of these poor school children, dead.

Even if he had to be the one to do it.

He ran straight back into the thick of the Entrance Hall, firing off spells at every Death Eater he saw and watching one after the other crumple. People fired a spell back at him, one of which knocked him off his feet and forced him to skid across the stone floor toward the opposite side of the room. He could feel the scrapes and scratches from the stone and debris on his arms and side—he was very likely bleeding now—but he ignored it and managed to pick himself back up to his feet.

He stumbled a bit, knowing he needed to make his way toward the front doors and get outside, when he glanced down at the faces of the bodies he was near. He couldn't help scanning everyone he came across for Fleur or his family now, and while he thankfully didn't see any of them, he did find himself stopping to gaze down at the lifeless body of a young woman who looked as if she'd been…she'd been…

He turned away, not able to stare for long. She had been bitten and mauled; he knew those injuries well. He also knew immediately who'd been responsible for them, almost as if the bastard's style was unique.

Uniquely horrifying.

"Piece of shit," Bill said out loud to himself, knowing that Greyback was lurking about somewhere. The same monster who'd ruined so many lives; the same monster who'd forever scarred his face.

He could only hope he ran into him tonight because he'd love to settle that score. He'd love to…

He stopped in his tracks just a few feet away from the young woman, almost startled to see that he'd immediately got his wish. Greyback was lying on the ground at his feet, unmoving and bloody from something that had apparently hit him in the head.

Holy shit, there he was. The monster himself, lying surrounded by shattered glass and…dead or unconscious? It was hard to tell.

Bill knelt down quickly to avoid a stray spell that may come flying by now that he was more exposed, but he did look up above where the bodies laid to see the upper balcony. He vaguely remembered seeing Professor Trelawney throwing things from up there when he'd arrived. He had to assume she'd hit a target.

When Bill looked back around, the fighting was in full swing, though the crowd had thinned out slightly. Kingsley and Flitwick were gone; most of the Death Eaters had rushed outside after narrowly avoiding Peeves.

He looked back down at Greyback, whose head was covered in blood; the injury severe looking, it seemed next to impossible he wouldn't have been dead.

Good.

He kicked him for good measure and turned to re-emerge fully into the Entrance Hall, seeing fighters in various corners going at it, even above on the balcony with the figure of a man flying off the edge. Bill was ready to jump back in when a horrendous shake of the castle knocked him to the floor, eye-to-empty eye with the poor girl Greyback had attacked.

If anyone had managed to stay on their feet, that would have been a miracle given that Giant roars were now booming from—what felt like—just outside the front doors. It was as if a bloody thunderstorm had parked itself outside of the castle, the deafening noises practically on top of him.

Bill scrambled to his feet, dashing to the front exit once he heard a window practically explode overhead; a giant's hand now visible as if looking for something to grab. He didn't want to stick around to be plucked up and crushed like a bug, but what met him under the night sky once he was outdoors wasn't much better.

Two giants were wrapped up and wrestling each other, each step they took, each punch they threw, causing the earth to shake and tremor; the castle creaking under the sheer force. People nearby were trying to stun them, but Bill didn't consider that to be the best idea. If one were to fall, Hogwarts—and those inside it—would break the fall.

One of the giants bellowed—it looked as if the bigger one had struck it—and it was now flailing wildly, not caring for a moment what or who it took out in its tantrum. Bill immediately went to flee the scene, dashing in the opposite direction, but as luck would have it, he found himself face to face with a Death Eater he knew was called Rookwood. He looked positively mad, as if he was having the time of his life.

"Protego!" Bill shouted, a Shield Charm shooting up just as Rookwood sent something straight at him. Whatever it was, it rebounded off the Shield Charm, and Bill sent a Binding Curse straight back at him.

Rookwood laughed as he dodged it, calling out, "You're Wealsey's boy, aren't you? You vermin are always easy to pick out of a crowd."

He fired off a spell, which Bill swerved to miss. He returned it with a nasty Bone-Breaking spell he knew from his days in Egypt, watching as it hit Rookwood on the leg. Bill could hear the crack of a bone and the howl of pain that Rookwood emitted, but it unfortunately only did so much to slow him down.

"Fucking prick!" he screamed, his wand already raised. "I got to watch the world rid itself of one of you dirty, ginger blood traitors already tonight. I am about to make it an even two!"

At that, a green curse came straight at Bill, and he'd never forced himself to move so quickly in his life. He dived sideways, landing hard on his side, and grimacing as the pain of falling on something hard and sharp now surged through his body. It felt as if he'd impaled himself on a stone or a piece of metal or something. He shouted out in pain.

Rookwood was laughing, limping over and watching as Bill struggled to gather himself and get up. He needed to get up. At the very least, he needed to get to his wand, but he'd dropped it nearby in the fall and…Shit, he needed to do something. If he didn't, he was a dead man.

"We'll all be better off without your kind," Rookwood said, almost gleefully as he raised his wand. "You're nothing but a bunch of—"

"You have fought valiantly," came a cold and high pitched voice that suddenly ripped through air, just as it had earlier in the evening. It was startling enough that all around, everyone gave a start—as if Voldemort himself had just appeared at their side and was talking directly in their ear. Rookwood, even on a broken leg, had bounced back several steps. He was looking around as if expecting to spot his master right beside him.

Bill took the opportunity to roll over and grab his wand while Rookwood was distracted.

"Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery," the voice continued. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."

Bill and Rookwood locked eyes. Rookwood noticed Bill had his wand back and was pointing it at him. He didn't lower his wand either.

"You have one hour," Voldemort continued. "Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who had tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

His voice vanished at that, and silence filled the air rather heavily. A Death Eater across the lawn suddenly shouted, "The Dark Lord wishes for us to retreat! Heed his orders! To the forest!"

"This is the mercy you have begged for," another called out into the darkness. "You require this more than we do. Attack us while we leave, and you will see wrath far worse than anything you've already witnessed tonight. Be warned!"

Rookwood laughed, taking a limp step toward the direction of the Forbidden Forest to follow his mates. In a low, scathing sort of voice, he said, "Enjoy your additional hour of life, little Weasley. Next time, there will be no reprieve."

Bill never took his eyes off of him as he limped away, the point of his wand following him as he dragged his bum leg along. All around him, everyone on the Order's side of the fight seemed to be doing the same—watching as the Death Eaters gathered themselves and carried off toward the Forbidden Forest.

No one that Bill could see attempted to go rogue or use the opportunity for some bold move. They all seemed to be heeding the warning as they were instructed.

And how could they not? The bodies that lay scattered across the lawn were proof enough that the Death Eaters were not fucking around. They truly did need this more than the Death Eaters did.

Bill reached down and felt his side, which was wet and warm with fresh blood. A spot just below his rib cage ached as he moved, and he proceeded to lift up his shirt and see a puncture wound as if he'd been stabbed. He immediately put his wand to it and attempted to stop the bleeding, the spell he'd used making his skin feel like it was on fire as it closed the wound.

And yet somehow, that wasn't even close to the worst feeling he'd experienced that night.

He pulled himself up, glancing around to see others—defeated looking, exhausted, traumatized—all seeming to take their first real breath in hours. He didn't exactly recognize anyone at first glance, but he also was quite paying attention to faces. If he were being honest, he was more looking for hair—red and silvery blond alike.

He took his time getting back to the castle's front doors. He couldn't help but think about something Rookwood had said to him in the midst of their duel—something about one ginger blood traitor being gone from the world; how he'd like to make it two by killing him.

Had that just been some bullshit taunting he'd said to get in Bill's head? Or had he been serious? Ginger blood traitors—from the Death Eaters' perspective—were almost exclusively used to refer to his family. Was he trying to tell him someone in his family was dead? Was he trying to fuck with him?

He stopped and looked out at the grounds, where bodies of all shapes and sizes were lying still and quite obviously dead. There were so many of them. So many were dead. Remus was dead. A ginger blood traitor might have been dead…People were dead.

He swallowed hard. Fuck…who else was dead?

In a daze, he forced himself back into the castle—which is where everyone seemed to be going, all filing into the Great Hall. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were charming away the house tables, Professor Sprout was hugging crying students; so many people were hugging and crying. Kingsley was standing near the center of the room looking solemn and stoic; he wasn't speaking to anyone.

Bill started taking inventory or familiar faces. The young man who'd been in the tunnel with them from the Hog's Head was there. His head was bleeding, but he seemed to have his wits about him. Neville appeared at the doorway, almost looking as if he was doing the same thing Bill was—taking inventory of who'd made it out alive. Luna appeared not far behind him, and Bill was immediately comforted to know she'd pulled through. Their eyes connected briefly; she offered him a weak smile.

There was still no sign of Fleur or his family. Harry, for that matter, was nowhere to be seen either, but seeing as Voldemort was still actively seeking him out, that had to mean he was still alive. Right?

"We lost too many," came Kingsley's quiet voice. With everything going on, Bill hadn't noticed that he'd approached.

"Remus didn't make it," Bill said.

"I know. I saw."

"I haven't seen any of my family," he said. "Have you seen…?"

Kingsley took a deep breath. "In passing, at various times—all fighting." He looked over at him. "Last I saw, your parents were alive. I can't speak to the rest. Or even to the last twenty minutes."

Bill looked away, watching the door desperately as people continued to pour in—some carrying the injured; others carrying dead bodies. A centaur was limping into the room and seeming in a great deal of pain. Several house elves were rushing around carrying bandages, ointments, food and drink from the kitchens.

Madame Pomfrey looked utterly overwhelmed, but was doing her best to quickly instruct people on what to do and how to set up emergency triage stations. The injured were to be taken to the left side of the room; the dead lined up in the center. She kept shouting that she was doing the best she could.

"Bill," came a voice he recognized, turning to find Dean standing nearby looking battle worn, but in one piece. "If you've got a second, we could use all the help we can get helping with the people outside."

He nodded. Of course. He was being selfish standing here, just staring rather dazedly, but he also knew there wasn't anything selfish about wanting to know if his loved ones were currently part of the alive of the dead.

He and Kingsley both began moving toward the exit to go back outside, which was when he spotted the first of—hopefully—many people he cared about walking through the doors to the Great Hall. Both his mother, father, and Ginny were huddled together, his parents clutching onto Ginny as if letting go of her meant losing her forever. By the looks of it, she'd clearly not stayed in the Room of Requirement. She was showing the marks of battle herself.

"Mum. Dad," he said, rushing through the crowd and watching as his mother physically reacted to the sight of him, her body practically falling into him once he reached her. She'd hugged him for dear life; his father and Ginny wasted no time joining in.

"Where's Fleur? Have you seen the others?" his mother asked urgently after all the initial questions of whether he was alright passed.

"We got separated earlier and I haven't seen them since," Bill said, reaching up to wipe his eyes. "I don't know if they're alive or dead." He looked from one to the next. "Remus didn't make it."

They all gasped, and immediately Ginny and his mother's eyes began to well up with tears. Ginny let out a painful sounding, "Both of them?"

"Both of them…?"

"Tonks didn't make it either," his father said quietly. "We saw her go down—" He sniffled. "Bellatrix Lestrange did it."

Bill had a hard time even processing what he'd just been told, mostly because, "I thought Tonks stayed at home with the baby?"

"She turned up later on," Ginny said, tears plopping down her face as she reached up to wipe them. In a tone that sounded more like she was talking to herself than any of them, she let out somber, "They just had a baby…"

Bill reached up and grabbed the hair on the top of his head, pulling it between his fingers out of frustration. The horrors of the night simply refused to cease. In a matter of minutes, a child had now been orphaned. How many more would this night produce?

"I need to keep looking for Fleur," he said, turning to scan the room again to see if she'd perhaps come in while he hadn't been paying attention. The Great Hall was filling up with survivors—Kingsley had moved on to talking to Flitwick and McGonagall at the front of the room. People were lugging more and more bodies in by the minute. He overheard someone say of a passing body, "She's in my house…"

He pushed his way out of the Great Hall, where the Entrance Hall was crowded with even more people—some moving and standing over bodies—others observing the fallen enemies. Neville and Seamus were staring down at the girl Greyback had attacked. They both seemed transfixed in a somber sort of confusion before Neville said, "She didn't deserve this."

Bill also noticed Greyback was nowhere to be seen. That was…he couldn't have possibly survived? Could he have?

He turned toward the stairs, ready to start searching the entire bloody castle floor by floor for Fleur, but that was when he suddenly had the biggest moment of relief he'd ever felt in his life at the sight of her—bloody, but alive—having reached the bottom of the stairs. She was accompanied by several other girls. Bill recognized them as Fred and George's friends.

She didn't notice him yet.

He ran, actually ran, across the Entrance Hall, calling out, "Fleur!" to get her attention and also to not startle her. Now was not the time for surprise attacks of affection, he knew that much.

She'd stopped in her tracks, her entire head swiveling as if in desperate need to find the source of her name. When she spotted him, she looked as if she was already crying—or had been crying—but she rushed straight for him, leaping straight into his arm, gripping him like a vice, and burying her face into his shoulder. He could feel her quiet sobs as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

"I did not know if I would ever see you again," she said between breaths.

"I'm right here," he said, hugging her tighter and kissing the side of her head. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. We're not making that mistake again."

She suddenly pulled her head away from his shoulder, her crystal blue eyes still swimming with tears as she looked at him with a deliberate sort of sadness. He'd seen this look before—though not to this degree of intensity—and it meant she was afraid of something.

"I 'ave ze absolute most terrible news," she said, small sobs still escaping her.

"What…?" he said, knowing nothing good was about to be spoken. Everything around them was absolute shit. If it had to be prefaced as terrible, then it must be especially bad.

But that was when a sight on the stairs stole his attention entirely away from her. Given his new resolve to not let her out of his sight, this was significant. George and Percy were coming down the stairs together, carrying someone between them. Percy was in the front carrying the legs; George at the back, carrying them under the arms.

It took him a second, but he realized they were carrying Fred. Why were they carrying Fred?

"Bill…" he heard Fleur say as pulled away from her, moving toward the stairs now almost as if he'd been summoned; his eyes never leaving his brothers. Percy looked beside himself. Devastated, but clearly trying to hold himself together. George looked as blank as a slate and as white as a sheet.

"What's happened?" Bill asked, hearing his voice rising as he spoke, panic now prickling at him. "What's wrong with…?"

Percy looked right at him—dead in the eyes—and it seemed all the work Percy was doing to hold it together was crumbling the moment they made eye contact. Even though Bill already knew what he was looking at—now he knew for sure given Percy's expression. He felt himself start to tremble a bit, his own eyes filling with tears as he looked down at his little brother—still and lifeless.

Forever to be still and lifeless…

"Oh…" he squeaked out a little, trying now not to let himself cry. He was the oldest; the one they looked up to. He couldn't cry. He needed to be strong for them. That was his job.

But then he looked at George—emotionless, empty, wouldn't even look back at him George—and he nearly lost it. The sight of George was fucking him up almost worse.

"We need to…" Percy said, not finishing that sentence, but moving forward to continue moving Fred's body toward the Great Hall.

Bill stood back to let them pass, reaching out to give George a grip of the shoulder to let him know he was there, but George didn't react one way or the other. He continued to walk in his silent, nightmare of a parade; people in the Entrance Hall stopped to watch and moved out of their way. Some, like Neville, could be seen visibly reacting as the body passed, his eyes shutting for a long moment.

Bill felt Fleur's hand go straight into his, and he was happy she'd found him because right now he was lost. Utterly lost. His feet had decided to have a mind of their own; he was following his brothers into the Great Hall because he knew in a moment, his parents were going to see they had lost a son, and Bill knew he really had to pull it together and be strong for them.

He just needed someone to be strong for him.