**Alithea’s POV**
I wake up in either Abbie or Amy’s bed and sigh. I can hear Uncle Fred making breakfast downstairs. I roll onto my back and sit up, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I look out the window and see a field with some cows in it.
I get up and dress in some jeans and a t-shirt then head downstairs. Fred looks around as I walk in.
“Your Mum sent an owl this morning,” he says, handing me a plate of eggs. I set the eggs on the table and push them away.
“Not hungry?” he asks.
“I don’t eat eggs,” I reply, “Fred, about yesterday… When I said I wanted you to kill me…”
“You were upset,” Fred shrugs, “we all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset.”
“The thing is, I did mean it,” I tell him, “and I still do. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
He sits down next to me and looks at me seriously.
“What’s going on, Alithea?” he asks, “ever since you were eight you’ve been… different. You used to be such a bubbly, affectionate kid and now you’re… Reclusive.”
“Nothing’s going on,” I lie.
“It’s not normal for a thirteen year old to want to die,” he points out.
“Well, maybe I’m not normal.”
“And what about you is abnormal?”
“I want to die.”
Fred chuckles.
“You’ve got your father’s quick wit,” he says, getting up, “if you don’t eat eggs, what do you eat?”
“Apples.”
“Scrambled or fried?”
“Fried.”
“With or without cheese?”
“With.”
Fred smiles at me and passes over the fruit basket.
“Help yourself,” he says. I pick up a red apple and take a bite. Fred sits down and starts eating the eggs.
“How can you eat that?” I ask, cringing. He shrugs.
“I like eggs,” he says.
“Yuck.”
“You’re eating a red apple,” he says, “they’re gross.”
“No they’re not,” I argue, “they’re good for you.”
“So are eggs.”
“But eggs are gross!”
“So are red apples.”
I shake my head at him.
“All right, stale mate,” I say, “I still hate eggs.”
“And I still hate red apples,” he says, “and I’m late for work.”
“Don’t worry, Dad’s usually late on Fridays,” I tell him, “he always wakes five minutes later than usual.”
“You’re a funny kid, Alithea,” Fred says, putting his plate in the sink, “what’re you going to do today?”
I shrug.
“I’ll find something.”
“Well, stay in trouble,” Fred says, grabbing his cloak, “I’ll be home about five.”
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Managing The Mischief ~ Sequel to A Master of Mischief
FanfictionSet ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Managing The Mischief is the sequel to A Master of Mischief. Maddie and George now have a true Weasley family, as do the rest of George's siblings, but despite the fact that Voldemort was defeated, their t...
