freya mckinnon may share the same face as her aunt marlene, but she was more than just the niece of a war heroine, though no one seemed to see that. no one but george weasley, her rival on the quidditch pitch who quickly became so much more.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE END OF EVERYTHING
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JUNE 30, 1997. . .
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE WAS DEAD. The one man who You-Know-Who had genuinely feared, enough to have someone murder him, was... gone. Killed at Snape's cruel hand; Snape was someone Dumbledore had trusted -- for Merlin only knew what reason -- and in the end, his faith had found him with a knife in his back. Harry had watched his body tumble from the Astronomy Tower, like a fallen star with its light snuffed out; burning, burnt.
Try as she might, Freya McKinnon couldn't bring herself to care about Dumbledore's demise. At least, not in the way the rest of The Order, who would've followed Dumbledore blind, seemed to feel the effects of his loss. Freya's heart was simply numb. As she watched Fraser's chest expand and contract with each inhale and exhale -- the only sign that her dad was fighting on -- she couldn't find it in her to pretend. Freya McKinnon wasn't a liar. Dumbledore's life was not worth more than her father's, and yet, Fraser had nearly given up everything for him and what he stood for.
In that way, the father and daughter were different. Freya could count on one hand the people she would die for, and her old Headmaster certainly wasn't one of them.
Beside Fraser's bed was another in which Bill Weasley laid. The two men had matching scars now, for when Fenrir Greyback attacked Bill, Fraser happened to be close by and came running to his aid. A scratch now marked the skin from his eyebrow to his jaw. His skin was still stained with splotches of blood, and Freya couldn't bear the gut-wrenching sight of it; instead, she watched as the Weasleys crowded around Bill and prayed that his wounds, which were significantly worse than Fraser's own, would not be the end of him.
Fraser McKinnon would not die, but Freya knew his life would not be the same in the aftermath of his decision, of this fateful, treacherous night.
Green light. Screaming. A fallen body whose face was shielded by Fenrir Greyback's hulking frame. Fraser was at Freya's side one second and gone the next. Freya barely had time to think straight with Dolohov shooting curses at her and the sudden loss of her father bearing him down.
"Stupefy!" Freya exclaimed, and let out a huff of relief when the curse met its mark at long last. Dolohov collapsed in a heap and Freya didn't hesitate to flee.
That was when she found him. Fraser, crouched over, clutching at his eye as crimson trickled down his face like someone had cracked his features in two. She barely had time to scream before a Death Eater came up from behind and got him in the thigh. Fraser went down quickly, his legs unable to hold his weight as he sobbed like his whole body had been set alight.
