sapphire || fred weasley

sixty-nine

Fred's hands were shaking as he bursted into Grimmauld Place with Beatrice unconscious and bleeding in his arms.

The mission was successful, true. But his own personal task wasn't.

Because Medusa, the person he wanted to kill the most, was none other than Beatrice who was supposed to have been six feet under for over two years.

But she wasn't.

She was alive.

She was alive and she was Medusa.

She was alive and was a heartless killer owned by Voldemort.

She had killed so many people that he knew. That everyone who lived in Grimmauld Place knew.

And he had to remind himself with the little strength that remained inside him, that even though she looked like Beatrice, she wasn't.

She was Medusa. The Angel of Death.

As he stared at her tense passed out features while still on the field, he couldn't helot but think that it was a cruel joke someone had played on him.

A cruel joke in retaliation for all the mean pranks he played while at school.

But it wasn't. And even though it wasn't, he didn't know the truth.

And in that moment, he promised himself to never stop until he found the whole truth revolving around the woman in his arms.

The rest of the crew followed him back into the grim old house, no one had been badly wounded.

Beatrice no, Medusa killed at  least six of the younger Opposition members that had been sent on the mission.

Six new names he needed to add to his list.

The ones behind him were almost in as much shock as he was, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins instead of blood numbed it all out, until a little voice he knew too well called for him in the distance.

Fred quickly adjusted Beatrice's face and hid it on his chest to keep her out of Juliet's sight.

He wanted answers from Beatrice first before Juliet could start demanding him answers.

He fully regretted not considering her dreams and mentions that her mumma was just lost.

Because Juliet was right. Beatrice was not dead. That was very much clear to him now.

But was she lost? He didn't have a concrete answer to that question.

"Daddy!" Juliet squealed as she ran down the stairs towards him.

"Not now petal," Fred clenched his jaw. "Go play in our room!"

"But daddy!" Juliet protested as she waved a piece of parchment she had been holding.

"I said not now Juliet!" Fred raised his voice and moved past Juliet to get to the hospital floor.

"Tell Parkinson that I want her dosed with draught the of the living dead," he said lowly to George. "Her skull is most likely fractured and there's possible brain hemorrhage, tell her to start procedure to heal that and get Amelia out of there."

"Will do," George rushed up the stairs and went out of view.

"Daddy!" Juliet insisted and finally got on his last nerve, which he didn't imagine would ever happen.

"Someone take her away from here!" Fred shouted and Ginny quickly headed towards Juliet to take her away from the scene, the latter who had tears brimming in her eyes and bottom lip trembled after her dad raised his voice at her.