Just Say Yes || Fred Weasley

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Five

I woke up to the sound of rushed footsteps going past my dorm, Ginny's scared whispers following not soon after.
Frowning, I tugged on my Weasley sweater Molly had made me the year before, shoving my slippers on before chasing after the sound, grabbing my wand as I moved.

At the end of the girls' stairs stood the twins, Ginny and McGonagall.
"What's going on?"
McGonagall looked at me for a few seconds before sighing, gesturing for me to come down. "You too Mr Jordan."
Lee came rushing down from his hiding place at the top of the boys' stairs, frowning.
"Follow me."
Wrapping my arm around Ginny's shoulders, we followed her out of the portrait and towards Dumbledore's office.
"What's happening?" I whispered, slipping my free hand into Fred's and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"She said something about dad-" Fred cut himself off, shaking his head, "I don't know."

George's face was pale, hand clenched in Lee's pyjama top so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
"Arthur has been hurt," McGonagall said curtly, though her voice was more worried than cruel, "Potter saw it happen. Dumbledore will explain more when we get there."
The silence was stifling, disrupted only by the hurried shuffling of feet.

"Harry — what's going on?" asked Ginny, voice trembling. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt —"
"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore before Harry could speak. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there." He paused quickly, looking at Lee and I, seemingly dismissing the complaint he was going to voice and instead moving on.
"How're we going?" asked Fred, looking shaken. "Floo powder?"
"No," said Dumbledore, "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back. . . . I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you —"
There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.
"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "She must know you're out of your beds. . . . Minerva, go and head her off — tell her any story —"
Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.
"He says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. "My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests. . . ."
"Come here, then," Dumbledore said. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us . . ."
We gathered around the desk, Lee and I sharing a determined look.
"You have all used a Portkey before?" asked Dumbledore, as each of us reached out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "Good. On the count of three then . . . one . . . two . . ."

I clenched my mouth shut, willing myself not to be sick as the familiar feeling of being squeezed through a tube overtook my body. We landed on a hard floor just seconds later, my knees giving way.
"Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying . . . ?" Kreachers annoying voice shook me out of my temporary haze.
"OUT!" roared a second voice.
Sirius was hurrying toward us, looking anxious.
"What's going on?" he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"
"Ask Harry," said Fred, offering me a hand to help me stand, the action seeming more like a reflex than conscious thought.
"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said George.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"It was — I had a — a kind of — vision. . . A snake. I - It was - it was biting him and -" Harry cut himself off, looking incredibly uncomfortable, "He was really hurt."
Ron had gone incredibly pale at his side, swaying slightly on the spot.
"Is Mum here?" said Fred, turning to Sirius.
"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," said Sirius. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."
"We've got to go to St. Mungo's," said Ginny urgently. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything — ?"
"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!" said Sirius.
" 'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," said Fred, with a mulish expression, "he's our dad!"
"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"
"What does that matter?" said George hotly.
"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" said Sirius angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still white-faced and silent. Ginny said, "Somebody else could have told us. . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry. . . ."
"Like who?" said Sirius impatiently. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's —"
"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.
I placed a light hand on the middle of his back, ready to pull him back if I needed to. Lee hovered just behind George as the twin took a bold step forwards.
"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled George.
"Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" said Sirius angrily in his turn. "This is how it is — this is why you're not in the Order — you don't understand — there are things worth dying for!"
"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" bellowed Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"
"Fred-" I squeezed his arm lightly, silently urging him to back down. In the corner of my eye I could see Lee placing a comforting hand on George's back, grounding him.
The little color remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm. "I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, before taking seats on either side of Ginny. Lee and I were the last to sit, on Sirius' side of the table, opposite the twins and Ginny.
"That's right," said Sirius encouragingly, "come on, let's all . . . let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!"

A heavy silence hung over the table, everyone sipping on their drinks, but minds far away.
The butterbeer tasted like ash in my mouth, and I found myself exchanging looks with Lee, the both of us desperately trying to figure out the best thing to do.
Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them, cries of shock spreading through the too , a scroll of parchment falling with a thud onto the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.
"Fawkes!" said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. "That's not Dumbledore's writing — it must be a message from your mother — here —"
He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud, "Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."
George looked around the table.
"Still alive . . ." he said slowly. "But that makes it sound . . ."
Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him.
Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, unblinking.
Not knowing what else to do, I linked my foot over his under the table, willing him to feel my support from the contact. He didn't outwardly acknowledge the move, but shifted his foot closer to me in response.

All we could do was wait.