Found You (A Fred Weasley Story)

Chapter 84

Bill woke us after only a few hours sleep. Later on, Arthur used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved us off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"He'll be all right," said Arthur quietly as we marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while . . . and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."

We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Arthur had a hurried discussion with Basil, we all joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. I was so tired that I didn't even pester Harry for forgiveness like I had planned to.

We all walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we were all so exhausted.

"I am sorry." Fred said quietly as he walked beside him. Once again we were at the back.

"For what?" I asked. I was in no mood to play guessing game so I hoped he would just answer right away.

"We all know you're upset because of Harry." He said.

"No, I am not." I said stubbornly. I hate it when people are right about me.

But did he listen to me when I said that? No.

"I shouldn't have brought Harry up but you scared the hell out of me when you ran away like that I was angry for that." He justified.

"I am not a baby, Weasley that you have to worry about me."

"But you're still my baby." He said it so casually that my mouth was opening and closing like a gaping fish. He smirked at seeing my reaction. Me blushing wasn't helping either.

I still hadn't come back with a response as we we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Molly, who had evidently been waiting for us in the front yard, came running toward us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

"Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —" She flung her arms around Arthur's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground.

"You're all right," Molly muttered distractedly, releasing Arthur and staring around at them all with red eyes, "You're alive. . . . Oh boys . . ." And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together. I silently snickered at that. Fred in pain was my entertainment.

"Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —" Fred started but was cut short my Molly.

"I shouted at you before you left!" Molly said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Arthur soothingly, prying her off the twins and leading her back toward the house.

"Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. . . ."

When we all were crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Arthur insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Arthur scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.