Look After You

I was halfway to the Great Hall, scrubbing the tears off my cheeks with my wandless hand, when a voice rang out from someplace I couldn’t see. I scanned the walls and ceilings, expecting the words to be spilling from the mouth of a ghost or a painting. The high, clear, icily-cold voice seemed so familiar, at the same time so far away in my head. I fought to remember who it belonged to.

Of course.

I dragged forth the memories from the night Mad-Eye died, of riding the Thestral with Bill. The voice speaking now was the same one that had cursed Moody off his broom and into oblivion. Voldemort.

I stopped in my tracks and wheeled around, brandishing my wand and passing my eyes over every surface with renewed fervor. The corridor was deserted.

"I know you are preparing to fight," Voldemort hissed. I realized that he wasn't in the castle at all, but outside somewhere, magically projecting his voice so that all in the immediate area could hear it, "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

My wand hand clenched a bit tighter and a bit of flame shot from the end. The names of the murder victims rang through my head. Ted Tonks. Mad-Eye. Dirk Cresswell. Bathilda Bagshot. Albus Dumbledore. Cedric Diggory. Cedric. Cedric.

I hadn't permitted myself to think about Cedric in a while. I hadn’t known him too well, after all, but we had still been friendly. I remembered the hard little knot that worked itself into my stomach when I saw him lying there, broken and dead. I realized that if I searched hard enough, that knot was still there. The first death, the first curse from my wand would be for Cedric because I knew, had he not been murdered almost three years earlier, he would’ve been fighting fiercely.

Voldemort's voice continued and I was filled with a slick, oily hatred. "Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded."

Rewarded, yes, alright. Sorry, I'm not much interested in gratification.

I sped on toward the Great Hall, passing through the doors in time to hear Pansy Parkinson scream "But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"

As I watched, the entire Gryffindor table stood, facing Pansy and drawing their wands. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff followed suit and I couldn’t help but shout, "Shut it, you little twat!"

"That is quite enough, Miss James." Professor McGonagall said sternly from the head of the room. I thought I saw a tight, controlled smile pass over her face, but it was gone before I could be sure. She turned in Pansy's direction, "Thank you, Miss Parkinson. You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."

The table emptied, followed by the underage members of the three remaining tables. Those who stayed behind waited around for direction. I caught sight of Fred and Lee standing with the other Order members in the back of the room, and I moved to stand near them.

"Where's George?" Fred asked under his breath when I took my place beside him.

"Dunno." I muttered back, shrugging one shoulder.

"He didn't mean what he said," He insisted like he had earlier.

"Then he shouldn’t have said it."

"He said it so that you wouldn’t come, you idiot." He slammed his shoulder against mine, hard enough to make me stumble. When I regained my balance, I looked up to see him glaring at me.

"What was that?" I frowned.

"We kept our old galleons, too. They started burning while you were away from the cabin." He turned to face me, still glaring. "He planned to say some pretty awful things so that maybe you wouldn’t try to come here and fight."

"Did he really think it would work?" I crossed my arms and glared back. "And what about all these weeks of practically ignoring me? He can't have known it would come to this."

"He wanted you out of the way so that you wouldn’t get hurt, you stupid prat! Leave it to him to take it a little too far and leave it to you to hold a grudge and not listen when he tries to apologize."

"He hasn't tried to apologize." I said tersely. "And you didn't answer my other question."

"He didn't say. But I reckon he was pushing you away." Fred admitted in a low voice. "He thought if you thought he was mad at you, you'd snap your wand and be safe in the muggle world until all this was over and he could find you again."

"Well, I…" I stood there for a moment, wracking my brain for some sort of retort. I couldn’t find one. Instead, I muttered, "Well, I still hate what he said."

Fred let out a little growl and put his hands in his hair. "You're both idiots. Bloody idiots. Why do I even bother?"

I didn’t ask what he meant. Kingsley had begun to talk battle tactics and I wanted to hear what he was saying.

"We've only got a half-an-hour left until midnight," He began, staring around at all of us. "So we need to act fast. A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest towers – Ravenclaw, Astronomy, and Gryffindor – where they'll have a good overview, excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile, Remus, Arthur, and I will take groups into the grounds. We'll need somebody to organize defense of the entrances of the passageways into the school."

"Sounds like a good job for us," Fred said, grinning and nudging me in the ribs with his elbow, obviously remembering our late-night cavorts about the castle and all the passageways we'd used in the process.

"No," I argued in a whisper while Kingsley continued talking strategy. "I'm not collapsing tunnels. I want to fight. I want to ward off Death Eaters. Front lines, Fred," I said solemnly, raising my eyebrows and holding up my finger matter-of-factly, "I belong on the front lines."

"Not a chance," He said shortly, throwing an arm around my shoulders and proceeding to drag me from the Great Hall in the direction of the marble staircase.

I planted my feet, "Fred, you twit, consider for a moment what we're fighting for." His face looked quite blank and I elaborated, "Magical equality. Rights for Mud-Bloods like myself," He winced and I offered a small smile, "to be friends with pure-bloods like you lot. I'm not going to stand behind the scenes and block passageways. I'm going to earn my rights. Prove my salt, if you will." I grinned.

"Lacey," He said firmly, "Don't be thick. If you think that George is the only one that loves you enough to want you safe, you're bent out of order."

The message behind his statement was somewhat lost in the combination of the words 'George', 'loves', and 'you' in such close succession. I almost felt my eyes glaze over and things made a whole lot more sense.

Fred threw his hands in the air in exasperation, "Right, well, I've done it, now, haven't I? Gone and blown it for him and haven't convinced you to hang back. Brilliant, really. Takes a real talent."

I smiled at him again, then wrapped my arms around his middle and thumped my head against his collarbone. "And I love you, Frederick. But you really are bonkers if you think I'm going to miss this in favor of some secret passageways." I pulled away and stood on the tips of my toes to kiss his cheek, "That's your area of expertise, anyway."

He ruffled my hair and smiled reluctantly, then gave me a light shove back toward the Great Hall where Kingsley, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley were assembling their groups for conflict on the grounds.

"Shut up and get a move on." Fred shook his head and turned, bolting up the stairs to where Lee was waiting on the landing. "And don't get yourself killed, please!" He shouted back down at me.

"I won't if you won't!"

He smirked and then jogged off with Lee at his heels. I wheeled toward Lupin, presenting myself before him with an inclination of my head. He glanced over me and nodded approvingly.

"Lacey, yes. Ah, I'm not sure where we should put you." Lupin said, looking around at the miniature groups assembled for battle.

"As long as it's not the Room of Requirement, I don't mind." I said.

He chuckled and pointed to the entrance hall where many people - students and teachers and Order members alike - were gathered, waiting with wands drawn. I looked down at my watch to check the time. It was stopped.

In any case, I assumed it was just around midnight because the doors in the Entrance Hall swung open and we filed out into the dark.



I dodged curses left and right, jets of red and green, mostly. I managed to stun or body-bind a few Death Eaters, but all of my Unforgivables missed their marks. Some sort of divine intervention on behalf of my soul? I didn't really know or care, much.

"Whatareyoudoingouthere? Stupefy!" There was a voice beside me and I turned my head briefly to see a Weasley twin. The one with the missing ear.

"Trying to win a war, of course. Crucio!" This time, my curse was spot-on. A hooded Death Eater crumpled to the ground. I approached him, leaned down close enough to hear him whimper and said, "You lose, mate. Duro." The bastard froze, a statue in seconds.

"Unkind." George said with a grin, "Impedimenta!"

"Speaking of which," I said, brushing the hair out of my eyes and turning to look at him, "You could have just asked me not to come."

"You would have listened?" He stopped firing curses to look at me, too, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

"No, but your other plan didn't work either, in case you hadn't noticed. Avada Kedavra!" My curse hit one of the Death Eaters bearing down on Seamus and Dean. "FOR CEDRIC, YOU BASTARD!" I screeched.

"Right, well," He dodged a retaliatory jet of green light and my stomach lurched, "Sectumsempra!" The hooded figure that had fired the killing curse clutched his stomach, blood pouring over his fingers. He fell to the ground and was still.

"What was that?" I asked with wide eyes.

"The curse that lost me my ear." He winked.

I nodded my understanding and fired a few more curses at the advancing crowd of bad-guys.

"You know," George said between a couple of hexes, "I didn't really mean what I said to you."

"Right, can we talk later? Maybe after Harry saves the world and all is well?" I stunned a man from behind.

"Certainly."

"Watch yourself. I'm heading back up toward the stairs." I squeezed his shoulder and he grinned at me, then returned to firing off every spell in his arsenal.

I sprinted across the grass, making my way up the gradual slope to the castle doors, which were open wide enough to spill light far out into the night. I dashed through them and began firing curses, hitting a few Death Eaters mid-step. A few students I recognized as having been from Harry's year were being backed up the stairs by a woman whose cloak fell off. I remembered her from the pages of the Daily Prophet, back when it wasn’t full of rubbish. Bellatrix LeStrange.

"Impedimenta!" I screamed. The curse hit her between her shoulder blades and she fell rigidly onto the stairs. There was a mixed chorus of thanks as I dashed by, to which I responded with a brief nod. There were shouts from corridors above and I headed in that direction. Professor Trelawney seemed to have things under control with her crystal-ball dropping in the Entrance Hall, anyway.

I came across Hermione, battling fiercely with the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback.

"Naughty dog!" She screamed, dodging a jet of red light. "Play dead, you bastard!"

Greyback advanced, but she fired another spell. He dodged it, falling back a few steps. She grinned at the small victory, and tried to curse him again. He leapt to the side.

"Fast little pup, aren't you? Think you're fast enough to get to me? I'm sure I'd taste lovely."

Greyback let out a roar and launched himself at her again. She fired a stunning spell into his chest with enough force that he was shot back into a wall. He lay there in a crumpled heap, unmoving. Hermione glanced at me, panting.

"Thought I'd had it, there." She said with a small smile.

"Apparently not. Nicely done."

"Thank you." Without another word, she hurried off, back in the direction I'd just come from. I launched myself in the opposite direction, aiming for the next area of combat.

Fred and Percy were standing, side-by-side, fighting four Death Eaters at the end of the corridor. Between myself and them was another hooded figure, roughly ten meters ahead of me and pulling away fast. Fred was laughing with his brother, completely oblivious to anything but the man he'd just transfigured into something small and spiny. The Death Eater between us raised his wand.

"Fred!" I screamed, again neglecting to remember my own wand.

The hallway was blown apart. Walls crumbled in on themselves, windows shattered. I was thrown backward, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the situation. Billows of dust had risen from the wreckage and I couldn’t see anything but the cloaked figure, standing with his arm still raised.

I scrambled to my feet as the dust cleared, my wand pointed at the back of the Death Eater.

"Avada Kedavra!" I shouted. My arm was shaking so badly, I missed. My curse soared through the empty space where a window had been, instead. The hooded man glanced over his shoulder at me and dashed off through a side corridor and out of sight.

"Bloody coward!" I screamed, my hand clenched tight around my wand. I stared around, expecting to hear Fred shout his own insult. I couldn’t see him. For a small, wildly fleeting moment I thought maybe he'd moved off around the corner to fight someone else. But then I saw Percy, thrown across something on the ground. Beneath his arm was a mop of unruly, fire-red hair and an outstretched, wandless hand.

I felt like my legs were breaking. I crumbled to the ground, raspy noises pouring from my throat. I couldn’t move myself forward, though all I wanted to do was go tell Fred to stop being an idiot and get off the ground. My body wasn’t working. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Why hadn't Fred gotten up, yet?

I dug my fingers into the grooves between the floor tiles, using them to pull myself forward over debris. Ron was with Percy now, sobbing. Harry stood off to the side with Hermione, his face drawn in horror and shock. Ron reached down to pull Percy back, the muscles in his arms and neck straining against his brother's resistance. Another meter, and I would be able to see Fred trying to sit up, telling Percy to shove off and stop being a prat because he was completely fine. Just another meter.

My heart stopped.

"Fred." I said, barely moving my mouth. I couldn’t feel my body, I was oddly detached, looking down at myself from somewhere near the ceiling. "Fred."

He didn't move, didn't respond. He was lying there with his arms outstretched, his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth turned up like he'd been having a particularly amusing dream. I moved closer, put my hands on either side of his face.

"Fred," I said, louder now. I slapped him on both cheeks, lightly at first but with more force when he still didn't respond. "Fred, Fred, Fred, no!"

"Lacey, he's gone." Ron said from somewhere very close to my ear. His hands were on my wrists, pulling them away. I turned to look at him with blank eyes and, when our eyes met, my chest collapsed in on itself with a sob.

I've been told that I stood, then, and helped some seventh year Ravenclaw carry Fred down to the Great Hall. I've been told that I sat next to Fred for a long time, running my fingers through his hair and saying his name over and over. I've been told this, but I don't remember. I only remember feeling like it didn’t matter if Voldemort won or not because Fred was gone and the world should have ended with him, anyway.



Someone alerted the Weasleys at some point. Voldemort "granted" a bit of an armistice and called his Death Eaters off for a while. I wanted to hunt him down myself, to strangle him with my bare hands or beat his head in with a rock. I wanted him to die cruelly for all that he had done but I wasn’t stupid enough to act on any of those wants. Instead, I waited for the Weasleys to come.

When they did, I stood and shuffled aside, standing a few feet away and watching with a heavy heart as the bodies of Remus and Tonks were brought in just behind them. Too much, I thought, Much too much. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling until I heard running footfalls enter the room.

"They're lying," George's voice called, and I could hear his false smile trying to hold back the desperation, "I'll murder them for it," He forced a dry laugh, "I'll…" His voice trailed off, and I knew he had gotten close enough to see that no one had been lying.

"No." He said. I brought my focus back to the ground in time to see him drop to his knees at Fred's head. I stuffed my fist into my mouth to keep from sobbing audibly. George put his forehead against his twin's, his shoulders heaving in a way that made my own ache.

This isn't right, this isn't right, it's not happening.

George sat back, looking around wildly. His eyes met mine, and he stared at me for a moment. His gaze was pleading, his face streaked with tears. I looked away, a fresh cry working its way up from deep in my chest. I heard him sob, loud, and start beating his fists on the floor. It was such a soft sound in all the chaos, but it burned itself into my brain like it had been echoing off the ceiling.

A hand grabbed mine and I looked up to see Ron, his eyes nearly swollen shut. He pulled me down onto the floor with his family, between himself and George. George automatically reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist, his head resting somewhere near my heart. I put my arms around him in return, staring up at the ceiling again.

This can't possibly be happening.