Confident | Fred Weasley

Chapter 120 | The Duel

He was weightless, floating, somewhere dark. He was also in absolute agony, his lower half throbbing and hot.

If he was dead, then this was terrible. Sarah had once told him about her own experience with death. After being hit with a killing curse, she had woken up in a version of their old flat, drained of its usual colours, and replaced with pure whiteness. Well, except the golden door of their bedroom, but those minor details had long since been lost to Fred after Sarah mentioned that her mother had been there. Dropping a bombshell like that made a golden door, chained shut, inconsequential in comparison.

All Fred could see was an infinite void. There was no version of his old flat, his house, or anywhere recognisable. It was simply endless nothingness. He was aware that some muggles believed in the afterlife too, but that theirs was split between the good and the bad people. The good ended up in Heaven, which was rumoured to be like a paradise. The bad ended up in Hell, where they suffered for eternity.

Here, amongst the endless darkness, Fred idly wondered whether he had ended up in hell. It wasn't such an unreasonable thought considering how much pain he was in. Plus, his idea of eternal torture was simply existing in darkness, forever unseeing, forever unseen.

No, that couldn't be right. Fred had certainly made mistakes in his lifetime, but he was far from evil. Actually, he thought he had been quite good. He had spent his days wanting to help people, wanting to make them smile. He couldn't possibly be in hell.

So, where was he? Where was his person to shepard him across to the other side, or to tell him that someone had poured the Revival Potion down his throat.

He hoped someone had done that. Of course, if he had to die, he would do so rather than become a ghost. But, there was still that insistent tug in his stomach that clamoured at the idea of continuing to live. He had so much to do, so much to live for.

His thoughts strayed to Sarah, as they often did. She had long since carved out a space for herself in the front of his mind. It was there where his thoughts rested when he thought on funny conversations with her, battled with lust-filled daydreams, worried for her safety incessantly. Merlin, she would be shattered upon finding out his fate. All that work into a potion that could revive someone, and her fiancé had succumbed to a crumbling wall.

Fred felt his chest pang, a different kind of agony inflicted upon him now. He wanted to hold her one more time, stare at her face until he'd memorised every detail, and then he could pass away if that's what fate had in store for him.

She would be alright eventually. Fred was sure of it. His family would take care of her. They would do what he could no longer do. Maybe she would fall in love again one day.

Fred's stomach twisted. No, it was too soon to even consider that. The thought of Sarah with another man filled Fred with such jealousy that he couldn't bare it. His body twitched.

His body.

He had a body. He could feel his body somehow. His back was pressed against something hard. He felt pressure against his scalp, something running a hand through his hair. His hand was clasped between another pair, and being squeezed rhythmically.

He couldn't see anything, but deep down, he knew who surrounded him. His heart warmed at the thought of his family. If they were still there, then that confirmed his hopes. He could have whooped with joy upon the realisation that he wasn't dead.

Fred tried to move; shaking a leg, moving his arm, even opening his eyes. His body felt like lead, and his eyes had been sealed with viscous glue. So, Fred started small. He focused on wiggling his toes, and after a moment, all ten complied. He moved to his other extremities, flexing his fingers. He successfully managed to squeeze the hand holding his.