𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤𝖣 | 𝖥𝖱𝖤𝖣 𝖶𝖤𝖠𝖲𝖫𝖤𝖸

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌

❝ 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔.❞ — 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fred blinked twice feeling quivers of pure rage covering his body as he observed his father's wound — ignoring the noise the other prisoners were making at the visitors' hall. The new room that had been habilitated in Azkaban as some sort of twisted compensation of the Dark Lord for this week's nonsense executions.

At first, Fred had thought it had been pathetic, but nonetheless, he was still going to pretty much use that opportunity to visit his parents properly, without the oxidized cell bars in the middle and the Dementors roaming the corridors, far from them.

He had planned out his day at the last minute after knowing the news, he had finished his shift at the store earlier than this past week during its inauguration, leaving George in charge — he didn't care that much about it as he had cared about Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he would never do, that's why they didn't even make half of a fuss about it when they opened for the first time. For both brothers, it still felt as if that store wasn't theirs, — and getting mentally ready to set a foot in Azkaban. Thinking thoroughly about what he was going to say to his mum and hoping he would have the chance to talk to his dad.

Fred couldn't help but internally scoff at his own thoughts. He had never had to think thoroughly of any of his words before. Nor of his actions. But every single day, Fred was convinced the war had brought up a new version of himself he was starting to meet and get used to, a version he was starting to accept.

Maybe that was what people called 'maturing'.

Maybe it was only bullshit.

He had spoken to his mum, as usual, admiring the incredible effect Lilith's potion had on her every time she drank it. Counting every single second his mother's memory was back and letting out a loud sigh every time she went back to that shell of hers she had created to protect herself from her own trauma. Luckily, that span of time was stretching out more and more as Molly kept drinking the potion weekly. This time, her memory had been back for nothing more and nothing less than a whole hour and a half. A whole fucking hour and a half.

However, it hadn't been his mum who made him feel a cold running through his spine and an impossible knot forming on his throat. It had been his dad. For the first time in a while, his main worry at the moment was his dad.

Fred had asked to see him, hoping he could share with Arthur how Molly was progressing, but the joyful feeling had vanished the moment he had seen his father's black eye and the deep cut on his lips.

He immediately knew it had been some sort of punishment. Arthur Weasley was not the kind of man to get himself in fights or arguments for his face to end up like that, and he was not going to start being it now, so the only option Fred could think of was, in fact, a punishment.

"Who did this to you?" Fred asked, his voice becoming bitter and dry as the words left his mouth flooded with rage.

Arthur clicked his tongue, crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting them over the dusty and metallic table. He was lankier than before, a product of losing weight most likely, but Fred had the sensation that he was shorter than the last time he had seen him — as if Arthur had shrunk. His brown eyes weren't as shiny as usual and the memory of seeing his dad's bright and innocent smile seemed vague and distant. His face was pale with grey-ish tones and dark circles very present on it and his ginger hair had lost that fierce bright that characterised every Weasley.