Vulnerability || George Weasley

The Secrets of The Order

Knives were soon cutting and chopping meat and vegetables, Mrs. Weasley tending to a cauldron of stew that smelt delicious, the smell danced around the kitchen as the Weasley children, Lupin, Tonks, Hermione and Phoenix collected, plates, goblets, cutlery and collected food from the pantry.

"Fred, George, would you mind carrying the stew to the table?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly, handing Phoenix an iron flagon of Butterbeer.

"No worries Dad," said Free offhandedly.

"We'll do one better," beamed George.

They waved their wands in unison and the large cauldron full of stew, the iron flagon that had been in Phoenix's hands, a heavy breadboard and large knife all lifted into the air.

"Oh dear."

"Fred, George – NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, as the heavy objects flew through the air towards the table. The kitchen watched in both horror and awe as the cauldron slid dangerously across the long table, a black burn hot on its tail. It stopped just before reaching the end of the table; the iron flagon toppled to the floor with a loud crash, Butterbeer drenching the floor; the bread knife tipped off the breadboard and landed in the exact position where Sirius's hand had been only moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley. "THERE WAS NO NEED – I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS – JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred called as he yanked the bread knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate – didn't mean to –"

But Sirius and Harry were both laughing, evidently in all the commotion, Mundungus had fallen backwards off his chair.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said in a calm voice as he lifted the cauldron from the end of the table into the middle, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age–"

"–none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" The flagon of Butterbeer she slammed onto the table wobbled and spilled its contents over. Phoenix could almost feel Mrs. Weasley's rage radiating through the air. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy–"

The air seemed colder at the mention of Percy's name. Fred and George blanched; Ron's eyes widened; Ginny and Phoenix let out a breath they both appeared to be holding in; Bill was looking between the twins and their mother; Mr. Weasley's expression looked stony as his wife cast him a fearful look.

"Let's eat," said Bill, breaking the horrible silence.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," Lupin encouraged, spooning a reasonable amount of stew onto her plate.

Phoenix casted a few furtive looks over at Fred and George, who were both being uncharacteristically silent after Mrs. Weasley's outburst. She knew that they felt guilty, she knew that their mother's words had resonated with them, hurt them even. Her hands found George's and she gave him a soft, reassuring squeeze. He turned to look at her, blue eyes meeting brown. He gave her the smallest of smiles before kissing her on the cheek, letting her know he was thankful for her being there.

Fred made choking sounds but winked at Phoenix as he did so, which only made her smile widely.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius," came Mrs. Weasley's voice after a few minutes of silence, "there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."