the beginning

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"They're coming for you, my sweet girl. And I'm so sorry, but you cannot stay here. I will be with you always, in here," the woman said as she held her hand over the little girl's heart. "I love you, sweetheart, and I always will."

She kissed the girl's forehead as a crash was heard somewhere in the house. She opened the door, with one last look the woman turned to the girl, she walked out. A loud crack was heard as an old man with a long white beard wearing grey robes appeared.

"Hello, Samantha. You will be safe, but you must grab my hand."

She looked from him to the door, "What about my mom, you have to save her."

He slowly shook his head and grabbed her hand, "She would want me to save you."

She heard blasts coming from the first floor as the house rumbled, before another crack was heard.

"Mom! Mom, no!" She screams as she jolts up from her bed. The door is flung open and three ginger haired boys rush in.

"Sam, love, it's okay. You're safe, you're at the Burrow. We've got you," George said as he pulled her into his chest.

Fred and Ron sit one either side of her, rubbing her back to sooth her as she sobs into George's shoulder.

"I couldn't save her, I tried, I really tried."

They don't speak, because what can they say to take away the pain. It's been five years since Dumbledore brought her to the Weasley's. They were the only ones that were willingly to take her in, despite their already large family. When Dumbledore dropped her off, he sat down with the Weasley's and explained why the Death Eaters were after her. Molly didn't hesitate to take her in the second she saw her bloodshot eyes and pained smile upon meeting them so late in the night. Ever since, they treated her like family and loved her as they loved each other. She spent her days mostly with Ron and the twins. Ron would never stop talking about Quidditch and his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. The twins were always getting into trouble and masterminds of the greatest pranks. They knew exactly how to make her laugh, even at the worst times.

"I'm sorry for waking you all up," Sam says with tears staining her cheeks as she pulls away from George's embrace, "I've been taking my potions, but it's just been getting worse."

Ron nods, "Maybe we just need to bump up the dose." He gave a slight smile, laced with pity that he was trying to cover up.

"It's not your fault," Fred and George state simultaneously as they always do.

They turn and smile, their signature devious look plastered on their faces. "Let's build a fort!"

"I'll grab the pillows!" Ron grins.

"I'll get the blankets," She whispers as not to wake up Arthur and Molly.

"We'll pull off the sheets!" Fred and George shout excitedly.

"Shut it, you numpties!" Ron whisper-shouts, "You'll wake Mum and Dad!"

She gives a small chuckle with a genuine smile.

"That's what-" Fred starts. "-we were looking for," George finishes with a smirk.

After they gather all the supplies they need, Ron and Sam begin strategically placing the pillows and blankets around the floor. Fred and George, being the tallest of the four of them, start hanging the sheets to create connected tents. They all hang little lights around the room, well, Ron and Sam try but continue to fail, so the twins take over.

As they all clammer in, Fred asks, "So are you two excited to attend your first year of school?"

Ron and Sam nod excitedly. "I really hope I get sorted into Gryffindor so I can be with you guys," I say worriedly.

Ron pats her back, "Don't worry, we know you will. You're one of the bravest people we've ever met."

The twins give a reassuring smile, "Then-" "-we'll be able to prank Ronniekins all year."

Sam laughs as Ron crosses his arms across his chest, "Sam won't let you torment her favorite Weasley, right?"

Sam tries, and fails, to hold in her laughter, "But where's the fun in that?"

"A girl after our own heart," Fred smirks, "You're in for a messy year, Ronniekins," George confirms.

They spend the next few hours laughing, until they all fall asleep. She has the first peaceful sleep in weeks.

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