The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow III » Harry Potter

3.10 | The Red Raven

The universe was a cruel thing, and Fred was only beginning to realise just how cruel.

That night, Fred had fallen asleep with a smile on his face. He would argue that it was the best sleep he had ever had. For those blissful moments when Margaret had nestled in his arms, everything felt utterly perfect.

He remained oblivious to her departure from the bed, her gentle kiss on his cheek merely a fleeting trace of her presence. Sleep had swiftly lured him back into its embrace as she dressed and prepared to leave.

Now, however, regret gnawed at his conscience. He longed for the opportunity to utter a proper farewell, to express his feelings, but it was too late.

No, a voice shouted in his head. He should have held on tighter, held her close, and never let her go.

During the early hours, Fred was abruptly awakened by a loud commotion that sent shivers down his spine. Despite the full moon high in the sky, darkness engulfed the room. The source of the disturbance was unmistakable, a relentless banging originating from downstairs and travelling upwards while shaking the foundation of the house in small tremors.

Waves of magic rattled the back door, the vibration creating a disconcerting symphony as the window glass threatened to shatter.

With lightning speed, Fred dressed himself, his heart pounding. Chaos seemed to erupt throughout the house. His father's voice could be heard, urgently instructing Ginny to remain in her room, while George called for Fred.

Though the relentless banging ceased, Fred knew that the threat was not gone. He charged into the hallway, wand at the ready, anxiety etched across his features.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley's voice carried an edge of fear as she clung to her husband's sleeve on the first-floor landing.

"What's happening?" Fred demands, his gaze darting between his family members.

"We're not certain, but it can't be anything good," George replies, his eyes wide with apprehension.

"Molly, we need to investigate. Stay with Ginny," Mr. Weasley urges, his tone urgent. "George, check the front door, but stay near the stairs. Fred, cover me. Everyone, steer clear of the windows."

The family reacted swiftly, with even Mrs. Weasley rushing to her daughter's side. Ginny, pale and wide-eyed, held her wand steady as she gazed fearfully at the darkness beyond her bedroom window.

The wooden stairs groaned under Mr. Weasley's cautious descent. Fred fumbled in his pockets for Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, noticing that George was doing the same. The ominous presence downstairs left them with no choice but to prepare for the unknown.

Just as they reached the living room, a silver streak of light burst in. It solidified into a falcon-like bird that soared by the ceiling and spoke in the voice of Markus Xenakis:

"Help. She's gone. I'm bleeding. Help."

The Patronus vanished, leaving the three of them dazed for a second.

Then, in a swift motion, Mr. Weasley charged forward, his wand guiding him as he went – the shattered windows repaired themselves and the lamps turned on. As the house bathed in the warm light once more, the back door swung open with a forceful burst.

All three of them bolted outside, wands at the ready, prepared for whatever awaited them. To their surprise, the protective enchantments surrounding the house stood intact and there was no enemy in sight.

Fred felt like he had left his body, looking down upon the scene from above: There, sprawled out in the centre of the backyard, lay a figure.

Markus Xenakis was convulsing, shivering uncontrollably in the chilly night air, soaked to the bone. His breaths were coming in short pants and his eyes were wide in terror, looking almost unseeingly at the sky. His clothing bore the marks of a vicious struggle, long, vicious gashes pouring out startlingly scarlet blood.