Chapter 5

Expecto Patronum

One moment he was in the room North had offered him, and the next he was at the Burrow.

He was completely encompassed by its familiar smells and quirks. From where he stood, he could see those stupid gnomes sneaking back into the garden under the shadow of the tilted home. There was, oddly enough, not as many rooms as he remembered.

His attention was immediately stolen by two small gingers running right past him. One held a book high in the air and shortly behind him, the other held glasses. Some ways away, another boy was trying to catch up.

"Fred! George!" the small fellow yelled, stomping after them. "Give me back my book!"

He was incredibly articulate for such a small guy.

One of the twins turned his head, sticking his tongue out at his older brother. The brief moment was enough for his foot to catch on something and trip.

He wailed, holding his knee.

The other twin noticed, dropped the book and ran over to his twin.

"Freddie!" He cried, sitting beside his brother.

Now both boys cried, but it wasn't over the pain; it was an endless circle of crying because the other was crying. They just couldn't bear to see each other distressed.

Mrs. Weasley, much younger than Fred remembered, emerged from inside the house and strolled over to her wailing children. Baby Ron sat quietly in his mother's arms, staring at his brothers curiously.

"Now boys," she said. "Why are you two crying when little Ron over here hasn't even said a word over all the ruckus?"

The two boys sniffled as the memory faded and transitioned to a new one.

Now Fred stood in his room. Nothing was incredibly different—outside for the lack of explosives and the beds being smaller. The entire space felt bigger without the overbearing amount of clutter.

"Come on, Ron. Hurry up," he heard someone say. It sounded like him on helium.

Low and behold, the next person to walk in was the seven-year-old version of himself, followed closely by George and Ron.

Rather than closing the door behind them, they left it wide open. Fred cursed his stupid rookie mistakes. He knew what this was. This was the day he and George had tried to test out their skills on Ron. They wanted to know if they could even attempt to make an Unbreakable Vow.

Fred plugged his ears just as he saw himself take Ron's arm and steady his wand. Their father was sure to make an appearance in three… two… one….

"WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!" the older man bellowed as tiny Ron took off. "WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS?!"

Fred even now could still pinpoint the exact moment George had decided to take the fall. It was the same moment Fred had done the same.

Just as George was about to step forward, Fred pushed him back.

"It was me, dad," he said in the tiniest voice humanly possible. "I forced George to help. It's not his fault."

The scene faded again.

He was back in the garden, accompanied by his oldest brothers this time around.

Bill and Charlie were whizzing around on their brooms, while the younger ones sat on the grass watching and admiring.

Fred, who was certainly ten at this point, stood up suddenly and pumped his fist in the air.

"I'm going to be on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts! Me and George are going to be the best Beaters in history!"

Ginny, who was probably the most excited of the four watching, stood proudly as well. Her smile wasn't any different. "I want to be the Seeker!"

She was quickly shushed by Ron, who told her that a girl like her couldn't possibly be any good of a player. Ginny slumped to the ground, crossing her arms angrily. It was odd. She had always been one to argue back, but what Ron had said got to her.

Fred smacked his younger brother upside the head. "You're one to talk, Ron."

George joined in. "A girl like Ginny—"

"Could easily out fly you—"

"Any day."

The first bundle of memories all took place at the Burrow, but every other was at Hogwarts.

Fred saw himself on his first day there. He saw himself on Ron's first day. He saw himself and George trying to enter their names into the Goblet of Fire. He saw himself at the Yule Ball. He saw his brother lunging at Malfoy.

Everything was going by so slowly, but he was sure he'd only spent a few seconds in each part of his life and every second, George was beside him.

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

"You okay, Freddie?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

Then he was back at the end. Reality became reality and those flashbacks were once again just memories.

He was back in the same room North gave him. Nothing had changed—only shifted. Even if it was by just millimetres, Fred felt everything around him shift and align itself into a perspective he could understand.

If all George's happy moments were with Fred, then Fred owed it to him as his twin—as his best fucking friend—to ensure those happy moments didn't become dreadful reminders of what was.

three years later, here we are