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PART TWO
The Morning After——————————————————————
" fred's point of view "
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DAD WOKE US up early the next morning after only a few hours of sleep and didn't say anything when he saw Y/N in my bed. He used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage.
Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved us off with a vague "Merry Christmas."
"He'll be all right," said Dad quietly as they marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while...and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."
We heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Dad had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we were so exhausted, Y/N looked like she was going to fall asleep while walking. As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.
"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"
Mum, who had evidently been waiting for us in the front yard, came running toward us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.
"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried -"
She flung her arms around Dad's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.
"You're all right," Mum muttered distractedly, releasing Dad and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive....Oh boys..."
And to everybody's surprise, she seized George and I and pulled us both into such a tight hug that our heads banged together.
"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -" George choked out.
"I shouted at you before you left!" Mum said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OW.L.s? Oh Fred...George..."
"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Dad soothingly, prising her off of us and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says..."
When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mum a cup of very strong tea, into which Dad insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed our father the newspaper. Dad scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder. Y/N was lying on the couch asleep with her head on my lap as I absentmindedly played with her hair.

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𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒; fred weasley x fem!reader
Fanfiction𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ─── 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 the daughter of an imprisoned murderer begins to fall for one of her best friends the same year her father escapes from azkaban. ❝ after all this time i'm st...