CHRYSALIS - FRED WEASLEY

CHAPTER 15

HEY GUYS! Long time no see... I'm sorry I haven't been updating--my life was pretty hectic and I did not have the time nor energy to write. Anyways, now that summer is here, I will be keeping a weekly update schedule (every Monday-ish). I took a lot of time to figure out where the story is going, and I now have a solid (and super cool) plan for the rest of the book. 

Without further adieu... 

Fred sits on the long, plush couch of the Gryffindor common room. His legs are spread wide and casual in front of him, and he rests with his neck against the top edge of the cushion, bending his long torso against the seat. The Marauders Map sits open on his knee, his large hand gripping it carefully. His eyes droop at the sound and heat emanating from the crackling fire, and George sits awake in another chair, reading a book silently. The turns of George's pages and the breeze that wafts in from the open window is enough to put him nearly to bed, and he hovers in the precipice of sleep, his eyes fluttering calmly.

He occasionally looks down, focusing on Lillie's name floating on the Marauder's Map. It hovers by the black lake, the tips of the illustrated banner bearing her name moving languidly in a false wind, the result of one of Remus's enchantments. His eyes flit from the map to the clock that sits on the mantle of the roaring fireplace. 2:17 AM. He unconsciously allows his eyes to close, submitting to the sleep that washes over him.

He begins dreaming immediately, in sharp and vivid detail. He is walking down the steep, zig-zagging stairs that lead down to the shores of the black lake. He feels a sense of urgency, that he's running out of time. He picks up his pace, taking the stairs two at a time as he races down them. They're short and deep, and his stride feels awkward and clunky. He looks up periodically and sees the giant moon in the sky, lighting the world around him as if it were day out. He's never seen the moon so full, the black lake so reflective. The path seems to go on and on, the turns never ending and his stumbling constant. Finally, he reaches the bottom of the stairs and runs to the right, following the row of lit lamps that go through the patch of woods that border the black lake. Normally, at this hour every lamp in and around the castle would be lit, lighting every walkway and staircase. Tonight, the lamps guiding him are the only in sight, their orange fires contrasting with the blue of the moon.

He's running now, down the wide dirt path that cuts through the cropping of trees. He trips on exposed roots and rocks as he races for the beach. He still doesn't know what he is running toward. Ahead of him, he sees where the trees part for the glittering Black Lake, its surface a mirror against the bright night. He bolts from the forest, the trees clearing ahead of him. His shoes move against the wet rocks of the beach, and each clumsy, rushed step he takes elicits a symphony of scrapes and knocks as the rocks click against each other. He whips his head around, searching desperately for whatever it is he's looking for.

He spots Lillie fifteen yards down the beach, her profile facing him. She doesn't look at him, though; her eyes are trained on another figure, standing far to her right. Charlie's cloak swishes as he blocks oncoming spells from an unknown source. Fred can't make out who is hurling curses at him, only that Charlie is losing the duel. His movements are sloppy and rushed, and he is overwhelmed by his attackers. Lillie stands, stock-still, her eyes wide and frightened.

Suddenly, a flash of green light hits Charlie and he hits the ground, his head knocking against the rocks sickeningly. Lillie's face contorts, shock overtaking her as realization sets in. She inhales, a scream ready to erupt from her heaving chest.

"Lillie!" Fred shouts, not wanting her to run into what looks like a one-sided battle. Her head jerks, startled by his voice. Her eyes, almost tugged toward Fred, snap to his. In that moment, Fred can see every detail of her face: her pinpoint pupils, shrunken by fear; her face, so pale and stark; the sheen of sweat on her quivering upper lip. Fred's stomach lurches, and a wrenching and palpable terror courses through him.