"Keep your chin up. One day there will be happiness again."

-Robin Hood (Robin Hood)

Fred woke up to his D.A. coin pulsating heat against his palm. His grip had loosened as he slept and the coin was now resting between his hand and the pillow. The moment he realized what the heat of the coin meant, he sat straight up and held the coin up to his face to read the message.

It was from Erica, but it wasn't specific. Basically, she just needed him to go to Scarlett's mother's house as soon as possible so that she could show him something. Fred sighed dejectedly. If there had any specific news on Scarlett, Erica would have said so. He just hoped whatever she had to show him didn't make him feel worse than he already did. He half had a feeling that it would, though.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Fred glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven in the morning. The joke shop opened at eight. Depending on what Erica had to tell him, he could possibly make it back on time to help George open. But then again, it didn't seem all that possible. It really wasn't that big of a deal. He was here to help open every day and this was important. George would understand. It would be fine just as long as Fred didn't come back too late.

Jumping out of bed, Fred dressed as quickly as he could. As he was putting on his shoe, he saved a few seconds by half running, half hopping the few feet down the hallway to George's room. He knocked quickly and tried to keep his balance as he stood on one foot to tie his shoe.

George swung open his bedroom door a moment later. He raised his eyebrows as he looked at Fred, still wobbling on one foot. "What's up?" he asked.

"I need to go talk to Erica. She has news. I might be back a little late to help open the shop, if that's okay." He finished tying his shoe and put his foot down with a small sigh of relief.

"Yeah, of course. Verity will be here shortly. We'll manage."

"Thanks, Georgie." Fred gave his twin an appreciative smile and clapped him on the shoulder before quickly making a beeline for the door. Once he reached the street, he Disapparated with a pop.

Erica answered the door to Mrs. Callaway's house within two seconds of Fred's knock. "Took you long enough. Come on," she said, grabbing Fred's arm and dragging him towards the kitchen.

"I got here as soon as I could," Fred told her. "Why, what's going on?" He was growing more and more nervous with every step he took.

"A letter came for Scarlett's mum today," Erica said as they reached the kitchen. She pointed at Mrs. Callaway, who was sitting in the same chair at the kitchen table as she had been when Fred left the night before. She was staring at the letter in her hands with almost a zombie-like expression. The fact that her eyes weren't moving let Fred know that she had already read the letter and was simply trying to process it.

"Is it from Scarlett?" Fred asked, looking at Erica. "Please tell me it is and please tell me she's okay."

Erica shook her head. "No, it's not." She stepped forward and gently slid the letter from Mrs. Callaway's grasp before handing it to Fred, who noticed that the paper it was written on was light pink. Immediately, he felt as if his insides had gotten even heavier than they had been last night. He shifted his gaze to Mrs. Callaway, who hadn't moved except to slowly lower her hands to her lap.

"Is she okay?" Fred whispered, looking at Erica. Everything he was taking in was telling him the answer was no, but he couldn't help but hold onto a sliver of hope that maybe something good was written on the pink paper in his hands.

"She's in shock, I think," Erica answered, looking at Mrs. Callaway. "She hasn't said a word since she got the letter. She hasn't really moved either. I read it over her shoulder and wrote to you and she stayed in the same position the whole time."

"Is it the good kind of shock or the bad kind?" Fred asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Just read the letter and you'll understand," Erica sighed, crossing her arms.

Fred continued to stare at her for a moment longer before he slid his gaze down to the letter. As he read, his expression darkened. "How dare she," he hissed.

"I know," Erica whispered in agreement, staring at Mrs. Callaway, who was blankly staring at the wall and was still sitting in the same position, unmoving, with her hands folded in her lap.

Fred tossed the letter onto the table. If he didn't get it out of his grasp, he was going to end up ripping it to shreds, which he couldn't do. They were most likely going to have to look over it again and think about what to do next.

The letter had been from the toad, as Fred had expected. Basically, she admitted to having Scarlett held captive and had then gone on to tell Mrs. Callaway to not only comply with the Muggleborn Registration Act, but to write an article praising it. She also wanted her to start designing wanted ads for the Muggleborns who hadn't shown up. She even wanted an ad designed for Harry. These wanted ads would then be distributed to every magazine and newspaper in the wizarding world. Lastly, and this might have been the worst requirement of all, Umbridge wanted Mrs. Callaway to write a letter to St. Mungo's as Scarlett, and inform them that she was quitting. Once Mrs. Callaway had done all of this, Umbridge would "consider" giving Scarlett back.

That one word seemed to infuriate Fred more than anything else. She would consider it. Basically, Scarlett coming back wasn't even definite. It wasn't even fair. In essence, if Scarlett's mother didn't do what Umbridge asked, there was no way she was going to be reunited with her daughter anytime soon. And if she did do what Umbridge asked, she would be going against everything she so firmly believed in and Scarlett would be out of a job.

The more Fred thought about it, the angrier he became. He was only partially aware that his hands were balled into fists. "She can't do this," he said, his voice low with anger as he turned to Erica. "Honestly, what's her problem? She thinks she can go around ruining people's lives and bribing them by holding their children captive? She's completely and utterly twisted."

"It's nothing we didn't know," Erica sighed. She looked at Fred wearily. "We knew she was odd ever since we first saw her."

"Maybe to some extent, but not really," Fred argued, shaking his head. "We knew she was weird, but this," he gestured to the letter that was still lying on the table, "this is insane."

"I know," Erica whispered. "What are we going to do?"

Fred opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Callaway as she spoke for the first time since Fred had arrived.

"You two don't have to do anything," she said, looking up at them. Her voice was stronger than Fred had expected it to be and that surprised him. He expected she was just trying to hold her own for how—at least until she was alone. If she and Scarlett were anything alike, she wasn't going to break down until later.

"What are you talking about?" Erica asked.

"It's me that has to do all that stuff," Mrs. Callaway said, gesturing to the letter with a tilt of her head.

"Are you going to?" Erica asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Scarlett's all I have. Besides my sister, Emily, but Emily and I don't get to see much of each other. She's quite busy and lives far away….and especially now with the war…." She trailed off and shook her head. "Scarlett's always been strong. Even when she doesn't feel like she is. When her father died, she was strong for me and I appreciate that. Really my point is that I can't afford to break down right now. She needs me, so now it's my turn to be strong for her."

"So you're going to do all this stuff?" Erica asked in almost a tone of disbelief. "Just like that?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Callaway whispered.

"Everything Umbridge asked you to do goes against what you believe in," Erica said. "I'm not saying that I don't want to do whatever it takes to get Scarlett back, but I worry that, well, even if you do what Umbridge asked, she still won't let Scarlett go."

"It's that one word. Consider. She'll consider letting Scarlett go," Fred said, glaring down at the letter with sheer hatred.

"Exactly," Erica nodded, looking at Mrs. Callaway. "I don't think you should do anything yet until we think things through a bit more."

Mrs. Callaway took a deep breath through her nose and looked at the ceiling. "Half of me doesn't want to wait. Half of me wants to do everything I've been asked to do, and quickly, so it'll at least increase the chances of Scarlett coming back. But on the other hand….you're right. It goes against everything I believe in. I don't like the Muggleborn Registration Commission, I don't think she should be hunting them down when they don't show up, and as far as putting Scarlett out of a job…that's just ridiculous. She's doing that just to be mean."

"We know," Erica said. "And like we said, who's to say that she'll even give Scarlett back right away? That word—consider—it concerns me. And we all know you and Umbridge aren't exactly the best of friends. I'm afraid you doing what she says might all amount to nothing in the end. At least for a little while."

"So you don't think I should do anything?" Mrs. Callaway looked up at them, her expression a mix of fear, worry and exhaustion. "I definitely won't get anywhere with Umbridge then."

"No, I think we should think something through," Erica said. "Maybe we can negotiate something with Umbridge—"

Fred snorted with laughter while Mrs. Callaway rolled her eyes. "I think you've forgotten who we're talking about here."

"No, I didn't, but—"

"Okay, listen," Fred sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. His head was already starting to hurt and it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. "I can't really stand here and argue about this all day. I have to go to work and—"

"So do I!" Erica exclaimed. "I have to open for nine, but instead I'm trying to figure out how to get my best friend back! I think that's more important."

"You think I don't want her back?" Fred asked, his voice rising. He looked away and took in a deep breath through his nose. "How about the three of us go about our normal, everyday lives until the day is over? Then we'll meet back here at seven and hopefully one of us will have thought of something by then. But nobody does anything until we can all agree on the best way to handle this."

Erica looked ready to protest, but instead, she closed her mouth and crossed her arms. "Fine."

"Is that good for you?" Fred asked Scarlett's mother, his tone quiet.

She nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that would make the most sense."

"I know you're anxious and I also don't want to make it seem like Erica and I are telling you what to do. I understand you're a grown woman, but it's just…." He blew a puff of air out of his mouth. "I don't want you to do anything irrational right now. By tonight, we'll all have had a chance to calm down. And I want you to know we're all in this together, okay?"

Scarlett's mother nodded. "I appreciate it," she whispered.

Fred half-smiled and turned towards the door. He paused before turning around slightly to look at Erica. "If you need anything, I have my D.A. coin."

Erica nodded. "I have mine too, so the same goes for you."

With another nod, Fred let himself out of the house and Disapparated back to the shop, which was undoubtedly going to be mobbed. Normally, Fred wouldn't have minded, but today he didn't see how he was going to make it through.

Scarlett was miserable. Actually, miserable was probably an understatement. She was exhausted, scared, angry, sore, tired and hungry all at once. None of those things were enjoyable on their own, but combined, they were downright awful.

After Umbridge had shut her in the tiny room behind the bookshelf, Scarlett had naturally been angry, but also terrified. She knew Umbridge wasn't going to let her go any time soon and she also knew she wouldn't be getting the best treatment.

So far, she had been locked away for about twenty four hours. She knew this from the quick glance she had taken at her watch about thirty minutes ago when Umbridge had opened the door and deposited a measly amount of food by Scarlett's feet. The same thing had happened at around seven that morning as well. She had been allowed to use a bathroom right off of Umbridge's office twice that day—once in the morning and once about an hour ago. Technically, Scarlett never had to leave Umbridge's office and venture out into the actual Ministry. This way, nobody would see her and know she was there except her, Umbridge and Scabior.

Besides getting two meals—if they could be called that—and two bathroom breaks a day, Scarlett hadn't slept well the night before either. Naturally, sleeping on the floor of a cramped, stone room was anything but comfortable. Her neck and back were already aching and were most likely only going to get worse.

She lay curled on her side, her head resting on her arm that was stretched out on the ground. With the other hand, she absentmindedly traced the edge of the dish that had previously held an apple and two pieces of bread—her dinner. Being alone in this crappier version of a prison cell for twenty four hours had given her lots of time to think. Now she was thinking of her mother, Erica and Fred. Actually, she had thought of little else. She wondered what they were doing and how they were handling her disappearance. What had Fred done when she hadn't shown up the night before? How long did it take him to realize she was missing? Did they suspect Umbridge? Were they going to try and rescue her? As much as she wanted to be rescued, she hoped they wouldn't risk anything for her. Things were dangerous now as they were, never mind sneaking into the Ministry of Magic.

She missed them, to say the least. And she had no idea when she would see them again, which was the worst part. She longed to be able to kiss Fred, hug her mother, and laugh with Erica while they stayed up late and talked about anything and everything. Something else she not only missed, but really needed right now, was the way Fred could make her feel better. Even if things were looking terrible, he could make her feel like no matter what, they would turn out okay again if they were just patient enough. Sighing, Scarlett closed her eyes and tried to tell herself that. She tried to convince herself that things would end up being okay again soon. She told herself that every minute she sat imprisoned was one minute closer to being free. But even as she told herself that, she got the feeling that there were still a lot of minutes to go.

A/N: We've made it to 50 chapters! I know it's not the happiest or most exciting chapter, but it's 50 nonetheless, which is exciting because I've never written a fic this long before, so I feel like it might possibly be a milestone.

Thanks for reading! :)