The rest of the summer passed in a whirlwind of weddings, late nights at the shop, and stolen moments of peace in between. It was a season filled with love and chaos, a strange contradiction given the war that loomed over them all.

Just weeks after Fred and Addie's wedding, George and Angelina tied the knot in a small but beautiful ceremony at the Burrow. It was less hurried than Fred and Addie's ministry wedding but still carried that same urgency, the unspoken fear that if they waited too long, the ministry might punish them. Addie stood at Angelina's side as a bridesmaid, her white-blonde hair curled and pinned back, watching as her friend became her new sister. Fred stood beside George, beaming, unable to resist cracking jokes even as his twin said his vows. The reception was loud, full of laughter, and even as dark times crept ever closer, it was impossible not to feel hope.

Then came Lee and Alicia's wedding, and after that, more of their friends from their year at Hogwarts followed suit. Love became an act of rebellion, and happiness was something they all clung to fiercely. There was something almost desperate about the way people danced at the receptions, about the way they kissed and held onto each other. Every wedding felt like a celebration and a battle cry all at once. They were daring to be happy, despite everything.

When they weren't at a wedding, they were knee-deep in getting the joke shop ready. Every day was long and exhausting, but Fred had never felt so exhilarated in his life. The shop was more than just a business—it was a dream coming to life. They filled the shelves with their products, tested new ideas, and spent countless nights making sure every single detail was perfect.

To Fred's surprise, Addie threw herself into the process with them. Despite growing up in a family where women didn't work, she had no problem rolling up her sleeves. She helped organize stock, brainstormed marketing ideas, and even handled some of the more mundane details that Fred and George couldn't be bothered with—like making sure they had actual business records for Gringotts. But what impressed Fred the most was her artwork.

He had known Addie was creative, but he hadn't expected the sheer brilliance of the paintings she made for the shop. She painted a series of animated posters for their products, but the masterpiece was the one of Umbridge. It depicted her daintily nibbling on a Skiving Snackbox before promptly exploding into a puff of pink smoke, her ridiculous bows and ruffles flying in every direction. Fred and George had laughed so hard they nearly collapsed.

"This is a work of art," Fred had said, holding the canvas up and admiring it like it belonged in a museum.

"It belongs right at the entrance," George declared. "Prime real estate."

And so, they hung it right by the door, where every single customer could appreciate the masterpiece.

Then, at last, opening day arrived.

Fred had known the shop would do well, but even he was unprepared for just how successful the launch would be. From the moment they threw open the doors, people flooded in, packing the shop to the point where there was barely room to move. The war hadn't killed the need for laughter—in fact, it seemed to have made people even hungrier for it.

Addie and Angelina took turns at the till, keeping up with the endless line of customers, while Fred and George darted around in their absurdly bright orange robes, demonstrating products and cracking jokes. Kids shrieked with laughter as they tested out Puking Pastilles (much to their parents' horror), and Hogwarts students stocked up on their new and improved supply of prank items. Even members of the Order stopped by, grinning as they watched the chaos unfold.

At one point, Fred caught sight of Addie from across the shop, handing a bag of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to a group of sixth-years. She looked completely at ease, despite everything, and when their eyes met, she gave him a small, knowing smile.

It wasn't a perfect world. The war was growing closer, and they all knew that danger was coming. But in that moment, surrounded by laughter, love, and the dream he had built with his brother, Fred felt something close to invincible.

The summer had been a whirlwind, but tonight was quiet. A rare moment of peace in the cramped flat above the joke shop.

Angelina lay curled up on the sofa, her nose buried in a book, while George sat beside her, absentmindedly fiddling with a prototype for a new product. His free hand rested gently on Angie's growing baby bump, his thumb tracing idle circles over the fabric of her shirt. Fred, meanwhile, had stationed himself in the kitchen, wearing an apron that read Kiss the Cook (a joke gift from Addie) as he struggled to make dinner. The smell of something slightly burnt filled the air, but he stubbornly insisted he had it under control.

Addie sat cross-legged on the floor, a wooden canvas propped against her knees as she painted. She was working on a piece for the baby's room, a soft, whimsical scene of a tiny red-haired child chasing after a golden snitch. Every now and then, she would make some snide remark about George's utter lack of artistic skill, much to his offense.

"I'm just saying, if you added a Niffler somewhere in the background, it'd be a masterpiece," George mused, watching her work.

"Ah yes, a random thieving rodent in a baby's room. Excellent suggestion, Van Gogh," Addie shot back, flicking a bit of paint in his direction.

Fred chuckled from the kitchen as he stirred a pot, turning to say something when—tap, tap, tap.

The peaceful atmosphere shattered as all four heads snapped toward the window. A large owl hovered outside, its beady eyes locked on them as it rapped insistently against the glass with its beak.

Fred wiped his hands on a rag and crossed the room, unlatching the window to let the owl swoop inside. It landed gracefully on the back of a chair, extending its leg, where a single letter was tied. Fred grabbed it, his brow furrowing when he saw the name on the front.

"It's for you," he said, glancing at Addie as he handed it over.

Addie took the envelope, and before Fred could even ask who it was from, she ripped it open. Her blue eyes scanned the parchment, her expression shifting from curiosity to something far more serious.

Without a word, she tossed the letter onto the table and bolted from the room.

"Oi! What the hell—" Fred started, but Addie was already halfway down the hall, disappearing into their bedroom.

Confused, Fred snatched up the letter. He tried to read it, but the moment his eyes hit the first line, he groaned in frustration.

"It's in bloody French."

George leaned over, peering at the letter. "Didn't know you had a secret French admirer, Addie," he called toward the bedroom.

No answer.

Then Fred's eyes drifted to the bottom of the letter. His stomach twisted.

The signature read Albus Dumbledore.

Before he could fully process what that meant, Addie reappeared in the doorway. But she wasn't in the soft pajamas she had been wearing just moments before.

She was dressed in battle gear.

A dark dragonhide vest, thick boots, leather pants—clothes Fred had never seen before. But what sent his heart racing wasn't the outfit. It was her arm.

The charm that usually hid her Dark Mark was gone. The mark was fully visible, inked into her pale skin like a brand.

Fred barely had time to react before she was pulling her long platinum hair into a ponytail, her expression set in grim determination.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred demanded, stepping forward and catching her wrists before she could grab her wand.

Addie hesitated. For the first time since she had read the letter, uncertainty flashed across her face. But she shook it off quickly.

"I can't tell you," she finally said.

Fred's jaw clenched. "Why? Addie, why the hell is Dumbledore writing you?"

Her expression softened for just a moment, as if she hated keeping this from him. But whatever was happening, whatever she had been called to do, was clearly something she couldn't—or wouldn't—explain.

"Dumbledore needs me to do something," she said simply.

"That's not an answer," Fred shot back, his grip tightening slightly around her wrists.

She exhaled sharply. "I'll be back in the morning."

"That's not an answer either."

She reached up, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Trust me."

Then, before Fred could say another word, before he could even think to grab his wand and stop her—

She disapparated.

The crack echoed through the flat.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Fred stood frozen, his hands still hovering in the empty space where Addie had been just moments ago. His heart pounded in his chest.

George and Angelina stared at him, equally stunned.

"What the hell just happened?" George finally asked.

Fred had no answer. But as he stared at the spot where his wife had vanished, a pit settled in his stomach.

Something was wrong.

Fred appeared with a sharp crack in the Burrow's living room, his body tense and his mind racing. The suddenness of his arrival caught everyone by surprise, and a chorus of gasps filled the air as his family turned to look at him.

"Fred?" Molly said, her voice laced with confusion as she sat up straighter in her armchair, knitting needles suspended in mid-air. "What are you doing here?"

"I need Fleur," Fred replied, his voice sharp and full of urgency. "Now."

Arthur, who had been reading, lowered his glasses and gave Fred a quizzical look. "Fleur? What's going on?"

"I don't have time for explanations," Fred said, his eyes darting around the room, almost frantic. "Where is she?"

Molly exchanged a look with Arthur, both clearly puzzled. "She's upstairs," Molly said, standing up quickly. "Let me go get her."

Fred didn't wait for her to return, instead heading toward the stairs himself. Fleur appeared only moments later, her usual composed demeanor in place, though her brow furrowed slightly when she saw the state Fred was in.

"Fred?" she said, descending the last few steps. "What's going on?"

Fred didn't waste any time. He shoved the letter into her hands with barely a word. "I need you to read this. It's in French, and I can't make heads or tails of it."

Fleur took the letter with a confused glance at Fred, but without protest, she unfolded it and began reading. Her eyes moved quickly over the words, and Fred paced anxiously, glancing at the others in the room, but not making eye contact. He barely noticed Arthur, Molly, and the younger Weasleys exchanging looks of concern. His mind was entirely focused on the letter.

When Fleur finished reading, she paused, her brows furrowing in confusion. She looked up at Fred, her gaze both calm and uncertain. "It's from Dumbledore," she said slowly, folding the letter back with care. "He's sent Addie on another mission."

Fred's heart stopped. "Another?" he echoed, his mind racing. "What? What the hell do you mean, another mission?" He didn't understand. His voice was barely above a whisper, shock creeping into his words.

Fleur's expression was unreadable. "I don't know what it involves, Fred. The letter doesn't say. It only mentions that she's been given another assignment, and that she's been told about it before. But it doesn't explain what this mission is or why."

Fred took a step back, as if the floor beneath him had shifted. He'd known Addie for a year now, and up until now, there had been no indication she was involved in anything remotely like this. She had been part of the group, the one who had always been there with a smile and a joke. The idea of her working with Dumbledore on secret missions—missions he wasn't privy to—was a shock he wasn't prepared for.

"Wait, wait," Fred said, shaking his head as he tried to wrap his mind around the situation. "Dumbledore's been sending her on missions? How long has this been going on?" He looked at Fleur, desperate for answers.

Fleur shook her head, looking apologetic but still serious. "This is not the first time Dumbledore has sent her on a mission like this. I don't know what exactly she's been doing, but he's been keeping it from us, Fred. The letter doesn't say more than what I told you."

Fred felt a wave of frustration crash over him. "So he's been sending her off, and we've just been kept in the dark about it? No explanation, nothing?" He turned on his heel, pacing now, his mind reeling. "What the hell is going on, Fleur?"

Fleur seemed reluctant to answer, but her tone was gentle as she spoke. "I don't know, Fred. I really don't. But this letter is clear—it's from Dumbledore, and it's a direct order for Addie to go on this mission to somewhere called Gaunt Shack."

Fred ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. "Gaunt Shack," he muttered, the words from the letter still echoing in his mind. "What the hell is that? Is that some kind of... I don't know, code?"

Fleur's expression grew darker. "I don't know," she admitted. "But it's troubling. I wish I could tell you more, but this letter doesn't give anything else away. I'm sorry."

Fred sighed heavily, frustration and confusion mingling in his chest. "Right," he muttered, his tone low. "Thanks, Fleur." He took the letter back from her, folding it in half, his fingers tight around it. "I need to figure out what's really going on."

Before he could say anything else, Molly, who had been silent up to this point, stood up from her seat, concern written all over her face. "Fred, what is all this? What's going on with Addie? Why is Dumbledore sending her on a mysterious mission?"

Fred hesitated, realizing he hadn't properly explained everything. He took a deep breath and turned to face his parents. "It's all connected, Mum, Dad. Addie's always had something... secretive going on but I assumed it was because of her family. Now tonight, She got a mysterious letter from Dumbledore before leaving in a hurry, and I don't know what to make of it."

Arthur's face grew serious. "What kind of mission? What is Dumbledore asking her to do?"

Fred shook his head in frustration. "I don't know! That's the problem. The letter doesn't explain any of it. It just says she's been given another mission. But why didn't she tell me anything? Why keep it secret?"

Arthur seemed to think for a moment before turning to Molly. "You don't think she could be the spy, do you?" He asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

Fred froze. The word "spy" hit him like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened, and he took a quick step toward his father. "A spy?" he repeated, voice sharp with disbelief. "What are you talking about? What spy?"

Arthur met Fred's gaze, his expression grave. "There's been talk about a spy within the Death Eaters," he explained slowly. "A secret spy working for the Order. But no one knows who it is. It's been kept quiet."

Fred's chest tightened. The idea of Addie being involved in something like that—it didn't sit right with him. She wasn't a spy, not in a million years. But the thought of it made him feel sick.

Molly saw the look on Fred's face and immediately reassured him. "Fred, I don't think it's Addie. The spy's been in the Death Eaters for years now. But Dumbledore's used this person for quite some time, and Addie's been in Hogwarts when the spy was active."

Fred's heart slowed, but the gnawing sense of unease remained. "I hope you're right," he muttered, though his voice was filled with doubt. He turned back toward the door, feeling the weight of the unknown bearing down on him. "I need to figure out what's going on. I'll keep you updated."

Molly nodded. "Be careful, Fred. Whatever's happening, don't rush into it."

With a final, lingering look at his parents, Fred apparated back to his home. His mind was spinning. He needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to know what Addie was really involved in.

When he arrived, George and Angie were waiting, sitting at the table. George looked up as Fred entered, his eyes narrowing in concern. "What's going on?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What did the letter say?"

Fred collapsed into the chair, rubbing his eyes in frustration. "Something's wrong. Addie's been sent somewhere by Dumbledore, and I have no idea what it is. It's all too... secretive."

Angie leaned forward, voice soft. "What do you mean?"

Fred recounted everything: what was in the letter, Dumbledore's orders, and the shock of learning Addie was part of it. "I don't know what's happening," he said, his voice strained. "But I'm going to find out. I have to."

George nodded. "We'll help however we can," he said firmly. "You're not in this alone."

Fred gave a tight smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks," he muttered, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being kept in the dark—and he hated it.