Vulnerability || George Weasley

Corrupted

With only a few hours' sleep, Phoenix, Ginny, and Hermione packed their bags and, with very bleary eyes, got dressed and made their way outside the tent so that Mr. Weasley could take down the tents by magic.

"You look dashing Phoenix," Fred greeted.

Phoenix looked tiredly at Fred, her eyes still half closed and her lavender coloured hair was as bushy as Hermione's, "I've only had about 5 hours sleep in the past 48 hours," she complained.

"Aw," cooed George, "Is ickle Pixy tired?"

Phoenix frowned, "Of course I am," she said. "I just want to sleeeeep," she pouted her lips slightly before leaning her head against George's shoulder.

"Ickle Phoenix is tired." Said Fred.

They left the campsite only a few minutes after. They passed Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. He had a slightly stunned look on his face as he waved the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and Phoenix off with an airy, "Merry Christmas."

"Bless him," said Phoenix as they all followed Mr. Weasley to the spot where the Portkeys lay. It was crowded by witches and wizards, despite it barely being dust. It was clear that they were all eager to get away from the campsite as soon as they could. After Mr. Weasley had a hurried conversation with Basil they joined the queue and were able to take an old and batty looking rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had even risen.

They walked through Ottery St. Catchpole and then up the lane towards the Burrow as the sun had risen higher. Phoenix was taking even littler steps than usual, looking as though she was going to fall asleep at any given moment, her stomach growling for food. As they neared the gate and the Burrow was in clear view, a cry cut into their loud silence.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley ran with surprising speed towards them in her pink fluffy slippers, her eyes wide and her face extremely pale, a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand.

"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried-"

Mrs. Weasley's arms instantly wrapped around Mr. Weasley's neck and the Daily Prophet fell out of her hand and onto the ground. Phoenix could immediately see the headline, SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley whispered, her bloodshot eyes darting from each of her children, Hermione, Harry and then Phoenix, "you're alive...Oh boys!"

Mrs. Weasley flung herself at Fred and George, pulling them both into a very tight hug, almost knocking Phoenix off her feet. She tried not to laugh as they struggled, red faced, against their mother.

"Ouch! Mum," said Fred, clearly embarrassed, "you're strangling us!"

Mrs. Weasley had begun to sob into their shoulders, "I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley cried, "It's all I've been thinking about since I got the paper! What if something bad had happened and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OW.L.s? Oh Fred...George..."

Phoenix caught George's eye over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder and she smiled at his embarrassment.

"Come on, now, Molly," Mr. Weasley said soothingly, managing to pull Mrs. Weasley off the twins, "We're all perfectly okay." Mr. Weasley then led his wife towards the house as the twins both turned to a smirking Phoenix.

"Come on them," said Fred.

"Let it out," finished George.

"What?" Phoenix snorted, trying her very best not to laugh, "is ickle Freddie and Georgie all embarrassed," she said in the same voice that someone would adopt talking to a very young infant.