Losing Faith
Chapter Two : Forsaken
Bill Weasley glances around, his eyes bored with the monotonous events unfolding in the camp. Death Eaters without masks patrol the streets, their hands griping their wands positioned in their belts. Bill cannot remember the Death Eaters having to use force in his living area, most of the prisoners spent their time with loved ones, warming their hands against the cold chill of the coming winter.
The camp referred to as Alpha was erected outside of the occupied city of London, and was separated into sections named for Greek letters. The Weasleys are assigned to the sector known as Theta. While they have freedom to move around the camp, from sector to sector, they have yet to find any of their old mates.
Fred and George don't know if their two best friends, Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood, are alive. They haven't heard anything from them since the last wizarding battle in July of 1998. They mourn the loss of Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, two of the best Chasers the Gryffindor team had ever seen. They fell beneath the killing curse from Malfoy's wand.
Ron's life turned into one of loneliness. Harry, his best mate, died valiantly in battle, along with Dean Thomas and the other Patil twin. He had talked to Seamus Finnigan in the earlier months, but Ron could not see past the black robes Seamus now wears. Neville Longbottom, a boy Ron was never really fond of, was taken to Beta Camp, another group wizarding prison which is located near Peterborough. Hermione Granger, the girl Ron has loved since his sixth year, and one of his best friends, lives in a separate sector of Camp Alpha. She doesn't stay there; she is often seen with the Weasleys. Nonetheless, her eyes tell Ron she would rather be in Camp Lambda with Viktor Krum, the wizard she was more or less seeing for four years.
Late-November winds strike fires burning inside oil drums. Five red-headed wizards and one seventeen-year-old witch warm themselves around this fire and talk animatedly to one another about Yule seasons past spent and deceased parents. Ginny skilfully moulds the conversation to the one Weasley brother who is missing. She talks fondly of him, but Charlie always changes this subject.
"The past is the past," Charlie steadily reminds his younger sister.
"If we do not learn from our past, we are doomed to repeat it," Ginny comments. She pulls her black wool cloak closer, securing it around the neck of her sun-faded red robes. The cold cement seeps chills down Ginny's spine as her feet freeze a little bit more. Beside her stands Ron, who stares vacantly, mesmerized at the orange and blue flames.
The twins sit on the mortar steps of the building with their tongues tied to all except each other. They sit beyond the warmth from the fire, Fred resting his head against George's shoulder, feigning sleep. As the others remain silent around the fire, rubbing their hands together for warmth, George gently nudges his twin awake.
"What?" Fred asks rather loudly, cracking an eye open.
"Shhh," hisses George. He slides his hand into his thick grey robes and pulls out a leaf of parchment charred around the edges. It is covered with a list of names: these are, or were, the heroes of The Order of the Phoenix.
Fred sighs, and leans his head against the wooden railing of the steps. "This is what you woke me for? Bleedin' hell, George, it's irrelevant now," he groans, letting his smoke-coloured, bloodshot eyes close.
George stares at him for several moments, speechless, and Fred's words penetrate his heart. He momentarily considers letting Fred continue his imitation of sleep, finding comfort in the peaceful expression of Fred's freckled face.
"Aren't you at all curious?" he eventually asks.
"Of course, George. There were thousands of people there, though. How can we hope to find the one we search for? We can't account for most fighters. It's the past, and as Charlie reminds us, the past doesn't matter." He opens an eye only to glance over, but George is preoccupied with the parchment of Order heroes.
George glares, and crumples the paper in his hand as though in spite. "You're starting to sound like Charlie," he scorns. "Everyone we know is either dead or dying, Frederick. Was I so wrong to do this? I wanted"--his voice cracks--"to know who our hero is."
The parchment is taken by Fred in apology.
This is the famous theory of who killed Lord Voldemort.
The twins bend over the list, whispering hurriedly as they scratch off names or add some on. They struggle to remember what happened during the blurry battle over the five months--only half the names remain on the list now, based on their small knowledge of who fell, when, and who had been seen with who. They are no better off with this than they were five months ago, and reflecting upon these deaths is painful.
"So, who is our hero?" Fred asks after a long silence, and George crosses off another name.
Charlie glances over and abruptly replies, "All the heroes are dead. Why are you two still fretting over that bloody parchment?" He furrows his eyebrows and exhales sharply, standing. "Give me that, the fire is dying." He quickly snatches the paper from Fred's hands, much to the dismay of the twins.
What mindless drivel are they polluting their minds with now? Charlie assumes.
"Bloody hell, Charlie! What crawled up your arse?" George shouts, jumping to his feet with Fred in tow. "We are attempting to solve a great mystery, here!" George draws himself up, paralleling what Percy did when he was Head Boy.
"Mystery?" Charlie scoffs.
"Who is the hero who killed Lord Voldemort?"
All colour leaves Charlie's face as he stalls, crushing the paper into a ball. "Listen, it doesn't matter who did it. All that matters is that, even though You-Know-Who is dead, we are no better off."
He throws the parchment into the fire.
It burns with silver ashes.
The twins can't help but think Charlie is hiding something.
And Charlie can't help but be bitterly unpleasant, because of what he knows.
