65 | W A I T I N G

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•••
who cares if one more light goes out
in a sky full of stars?

                                      ... well, I do.
•••

   "Georgie got injured", Lynnea spoke in a low voice, as they made their way into the house, being wrapped in Fred's arm. Mr Weasley's eyes snapped at her, alarmed. "Snape hit him with a Sectumsempra curse. He ... he ... lost an ear ..." She sniffed away the burning in the corner of her eyes, ignoring the lump in her throat growing thicker. "He -"

   Kingsley appeared in the yard, as they were about to step through the door, grabbing Lynnea's wrist and pulling her harshly behind his back.

   "Kingsley, what - ?" But her question remained unfinished, as she saw the Auror point his wand on Fred and Mr Weasley.

"Let me see my son first", Mr Weasley said through gritted teeth. But Kingsley didn't move a muscle. "I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"

   Lynnea had never heard Mr Weasley shout like that before. He bursted into the living room, his spectacles askew, Fred right behind him.

   "Arthur!", sobbed Mrs Weasley. "Oh thank goodness!"

   "How is he?"

   Mr Weasley dropped to his knees beside George. For the first time since Lynnea had known him, Fred seemed to be lost for words. He gaped over the back of the sofa at his twin's wound as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

   Perhaps roused by the sound of Fred and their father's arrival, George stirred.

   "How do you feel, Georgie?" whispered Mrs Weasley.

   George's fingers groped for the side of his head.

   "Saintlike", he murmured.

   "What's wrong with him?", croaked Fred, looking terrified. "Is his mind affected?"

   "Saintlike", repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. "You see ... I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"

   Mrs Weasley sobbed harder than ever. Color flooded Fred's pale face.
"Pathetic", he told George. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?"

   "Ah well", said George, grinning at his tear-soaked mother. "You'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum."

   He looked around.

   "Hi, Harry - you are Harry, right?"

   "Yeah, I am", said Harry, moving closer to the sofa.

   "Well, at least we got you back okay", said George. "Why aren't Ron and Bill huddled round my sickbed?"

   "They're not back yet, George", said Mrs Weasley. George's grin faded. Lynnea glanced at Harry and motioned to him to accompany him back outside. As they walked through the kitchen she said in a low voice: "Ron and Tonks should be back by now. They didn't have a long journey; Aunt Muriel's not that far from here, as Ginny told me." She watched the color remove out of Harry's face, we stepped back outside in the cold night air. Soon Ginny and Hermione joined them, and Lynnea threw a gaze through the window at Fred, who was laughing together with George. She was more than grateful to see the both of them okay.

   "Look!", Ginny whispered and Lynnea's head snapped back. Ginny pointed her finger up in the air, two brooms were framing over our heads against the night sky.

   "It's them!", screamed Hermione.

   Tonks landed in a long skid that sent earth and pebbles everywhere.

   "Remus!", Tonks cried as she staggered off the broom into Lynnea's godfather's arms. His face was set and white: He seemed unable to speak, Ron tripped dazedly toward Harry and Hermione.

   "You're okay", he mumbled, before Hermione flew at him and hugged him tightly.

   "I thought - I thought - "

   "'M all right", said Ron, patting her on the back. "'M fine."

   "Ron was great", said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Remus. "Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom - "

   "You did?", said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck.

   "Always the tone of surprise", he said a little grumpily, breaking free. "Are we the last back?"

   "No", said Ginny. "We're still waiting for Bill and Fleur, and Mad-Eye and Mundungus. I'm going to tell Mum and Dad you're okay, Ron - "

   She ran back inside.

   Bill and Fleur arrived view minutes later. Mrs Weasley ran forward, but the hug Bill bestowed upon her was perfunctory. Looking directly at his father, he said, "Mad-Eye's dead."

   Nobody spoke, nobody moved. Lynnea felt as though something inside her was falling, falling through the earth, leaving her forever.

   "We saw it", said Bill; Fleur nodded, tear tracks glittering on her cheeks in the light from the kitchen window. "It happened just after we broke out of the circle: Mad-Eye and Dung were close by us, they were heading north too. Voldemort - he can fly - went straight for them. Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad-Eye tried to stop him, but he Disapparated. Voldemort's curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backward off his broom and - there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail - "

   Bill's voice broke. Lynnea felt herself shaking, but within a second the warm embrace of two strong arms kept her from falling straight into the sky. Fred had wrapped his arms around her, placing a kiss on top of her hair. Her trembling immediately eased, feeling so safe while being that close to him.

   "They expected us", Bill said after a moment of silence. "They knew it was today."

   "How could they?", Lynnea asked. "Do you think ... Mundungus?"

   "No, Dung was never keen on the job, Alastor kinda forced him", Remus muttered.

   "Somebody let slip ze date to an outsider. It is ze only explanation for zem knowing ze date but not ze 'ole plan", Fleur said.

   She glared around at them all, tear tracks still etched on her beautiful face, silently daring any of them to contradict her. Nobody did. The only sound to break the silence was that of Hagrid hiccupping from behind his handkerchief.

   "No", Harry said aloud, and they all looked at him, surprised. "I mean ... if somebody made a mistake", Harry went on, "and let something slip, I know they didn't mean to do it. It's not their fault", he repeated, again a little louder than he would usually have spoken. "We've got to trust each other. I trust all of you, I don't think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort."

And neither did Lynnea.

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