Dancing In The Storm •Fred Weasley•

Chapter 2

•This story takes scenes from the Harry Potter series. I want to make it clear that I don't own those scenes. That's owned by
J.K. Rowling. Thank you•

~Claire~

I sighed as I walked into the kitchen of our house.

It was just past eight, and I had just woken from another nightmare.

It didn't bother me as much as it usually did. But that was because I still had hope. It's been six days since Scarlett and I moved back here, and nothing has been said about an escaped murderer.

Speaking of Scarlett. She was staying with Alicia for the day. Meaning I was all alone.

Making myself a bowl of cereal, I sank into the perfect wood chairs Sirius insisted on buying while searching for dining room furniture.

I was interrupted though, by a tapping on the window.

Glancing over, a dark brown screech owl was sitting on the window seal, tapping away.

Pushing open the window, I allowed the screech owl to fly in.

The owl belonged to Scarlett. She had picked him out before her first year at Hogwarts. A present from myself.

She had named him Ditzy.

I couldn't tell you why.

Ditzy held a copy of the Daily Prophet in his beak. Dropping a single knut into his pouch, I took the Daily Prophet from him.

Tossing a few owl treats at him, he happily fluttered off to his cage.

Unrolling the Daily Prophet, I took one look at the front page before a small squeak managed to escape my lips.

Right there on the front page, was my husband.

His face was sunken. And his hair was matted. But all I saw was my husband.

My tear filled eyes scanned across the paper. Tears falling the farther I got.

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Confederation of Wizards for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.