"Goodbye may seem forever. Farewell is like the end. But in my heart's a memory and there you'll always be."

-The Fox and the Hound

"Mum, I don't see why we have to do this," Scarlett Callaway complained. She was in her mother's room, lying across the bed and staring at the ceiling. Her straight, long, blondish-brown hair was fanned out around her head.

"Are you done packing?" Jenna, Scarlett's mother, sounded slightly panicked as she rushed around the room, packing last minute things.

"No, I haven't even started. I've told you I don't want to go."

"Not packing isn't going to change the fact that we are going," her mother said. "We're leaving in an hour whether you like it or not."

"I just don't understand why we have to go shut ourselves up in that place for a reason they won't even tell us." When her mother didn't answer, Scarlett looked up to see her biting her lip—her nervous habit. "You know something!" Scarlett sat up quickly and stared at her mother.

"No, why do you think that?"

"You're biting your lip. You're nervous because you know why we have to go."

"No, I'm just nervous about packing."

"Nervous about packing?" Scarlett asked. "Yeah, okay, mum. I'm not buying it."

"Watch your tone." Her mother gave her a stern look and Scarlett shut up for a few minutes.

"I don't want to go," she said finally.

"You used to love playing with Fred and George when you were a kid. You would even play with Ron and Ginny sometimes."

"Yeah, that was years ago," Scarlett said. "I don't talk to any of them anymore. That's why it's so weird that we have to go. Plus, don't you know how awkward it'll be?"

"I'm sure it won't be," her mother insisted gently. "But why don't you talk anymore? I know we moved further away from them, but you started Hogwarts with the twins only two years later."

"Yeah, two years is enough to do damage. We lost touch and after we moved it's not like I could have Apparated on my own and you were busy. You had to take over a lot of things after dad died. I wasn't going to make you bring me over to the Burrow all the time. Plus, for a while after the accident I didn't want to see anyone. You know that."

"Scarlett," her mother said, "I would have gladly brought you to the Burrow if you had asked."

Scarlett shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. That was eight years ago."

"Look," her mother sighed, "we'll all talk tonight once we get there and we're all settled in. For now, can you just pack and get ready to go?"

"What if they don't actually want us there?" Scarlett asked. "What if they don't like me anymore?"

"Don't be silly. They do want us there and of course they still like you. Don't worry about a thing. They're nice people, the Weasleys. They haven't changed. I promise they're still the same people you remember."

"So Fred and George are still trick-playing, crazy children on a never-ending sugar high?"

"I-," her mother began, but Scarlett plowed on.

"And they can still communicate through looks leaving other people confused? And get a laugh out of coloring on people's faces with permanent marker while they sleep?"

"Er, most likely," her mother said, trying to stifle a laugh. "Oh, honey," she said when she saw the look on her daughter's face. "I managed to get the marker off."

"Yeah, but that doesn't erase the fact that they did it," Scarlett said, but she could feel a laugh coming on as well. Now that she was looking back on it, the incident had been kind of funny. At the time, she had been furious. She had actually attempted to chase Fred and George around the house with the marker, but had been stopped by her mother.

"You had fun with them, too, if you remember," her mother said. "Fred taught you how to play chess, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Scarlett smirked, "and then he sulked the first time I won a game against him."

"And you taught them a fair amount of Muggle games, didn't you?"

Scarlett nodded. "We did used to have a lot of fun. And I did miss them for a while."

"You don't anymore?"

Scarlett shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just got used to being apart from them."

Her mother smiled softly before walking over and kissing her daughter's forehead. "Go pack," she said quietly.

Scarlett nodded and left the room without another word.

"Mum," Fred said as he thundered down the stairs, "did you wash that t-shirt with the Hogwarts crest on it?"

"Yes, isn't it George's?"

"No, it's mine. I have the short sleeved one. George's is long sleeved."

"Oh, well they're close enough to get me confused," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Anyway, go ask George. I'm sure he has it."

Fred nodded, but paused as he turned to go. "Mum, why did you invite Scarlett and her mum to Grimmauld Place?"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me that sooner," Mrs. Weasley said.

"You only told us this morning," Fred said. "I was too tired and things were too hectic to ask. Now that I've had the chance to think about it, though, it's weird. And the short notice only makes it weirder."

"It's not weird," Mrs. Weasley said as she finished folding the laundry in front of her.

"Yes it is," Fred argued. "I haven't spoken to Scarlett since I was nine."

"At all?" Mrs. Weasley asked curiously, sounding slightly nervous.

"No, not really. I mean we've done the whole awkward smile-and-wave thing a few times, but the truth is that we aren't exactly friends anymore. I hardly see her in school. She's a Hufflepuff and the only class I've ever had with her is Herbology."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said faintly.

"Why?" Fred asked. "I don't understand what this is all about."

"We'll talk tonight," Mrs. Weasley said, "once we get settled in. For now, can you please just go with it?"

"This has to do with what Charlie told you, doesn't it?"

"Fred, just go pack. We need to leave in twenty minutes."

Sighing, Fred took the stairs to his room two at a time. "Something's going on," he said to George as he flopped down on his bed.

"Why, because of Scarlett and her mother coming to Grimmauld Place?" George asked.

"Yeah, we haven't spoken to her in eight years and then mum and dad invite her and her mother to Grimmauld Place."

"Maybe they're in danger," George suggested. "Scarlett's dad was a Muggle, wasn't he? So Scarlett's a half-blood."

"So? Half-bloods aren't in danger, really. Things are only going to get worse for Muggleborns and…blood traitors." Fred nearly whispered the last few words.

"Things are going to get worse for everyone who doesn't support You-Know-Who," George said. "Plus, Scarlett's family may not actually be blood traitors but aren't they as good as in You-Know-Who's eyes? Scarlett's mum married a Muggle. To the Death Eaters it's considered gross or something, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I guess. The way those people think is too disgusting for me to handle," Fred groaned. "Anyway, we haven't talked to Scarlett in years. I'm kind of nervous to see her again."

"You've seen her at school," George pointed out.

"Yeah, but I haven't spoken to her. We're older now. Things might not just go back to how they were when we were nine."

"I'm sure she's just as nervous about seeing us again," George said reasonably.

"Maybe," Fred sighed. There was a pause. "Now that I think about it, I've missed her."

"Me too," George agreed. "She was fun to be around."

Fred nodded. "Oh, by the way, mum said she accidentally gave you my-,"

"Here, take it," George said with a smile as he tossed the shirt at Fred.

"Thanks." Fred stood up and stuck the shirt inside his trunk before running a hand through his hair. "I guess we're ready now."

"Yeah, ready to shut ourselves inside of 'headquarters'," George muttered.

Fred took a deep breath. "Let's do it."