Fred nodded, the wave of guilt still crashing over him. How could they have missed that pub when it was so close to Diagon Alley? He vowed he would redouble the bugging efforts and there wouldn't be a pub in London without at least one Ear in it. He would drink a pint in every pub, just for this cause!
"Hopefully we got something," he agreed, flicking his wand towards the gramophone. Snatches of conversation began to fill the air.
"Come on love, cook us up a meat sandwich or something!" "Fuck off, it's 11pm!" "Oi, I've got connections!" "Then use them to cook you some fucking food!"
"So who did you get off with?" "I'll give you a clue. His name ends in a D." "Gerald!" "Gerald doesn't have a D in it, you moron." "...Oh yeah..."
Fred began chewing his lip while listening to the toss coming on loud.
“Bye bye darling.” “I haven’t gone yet.” “Don’t come back, piss off.” "Buy a round and I’ll stay.” “Ta da, see you tomorrow.” "Are you on a promise tonight or something?”
A pause in the noise...
“Oh fuck it, you’re back again. Make up your mind. You’re worse than a fiddler’s elbow.” “He’s like a girl.” “Yeah, not a very attractive one.” “What’s a fiddler’s elbow?” “Back and forth, back and forth.”
"Well this is a load of rubbish," Fred complained, "People are so daft."
Harry listened on keenly, trying to find something, anything that would give them a clue as to who's been behind the attacks. He leaned dumbly against the wall behind him, his ears trying to pick up on something out of the ordinary. He looked back to Fred and shook his head.
"I can't figure this out," he admitted. "This keeps happening the same way - but somehow last night was different. If Marlow was the only reason the attack didn't continue - who on Earth was around when Oliver and Parvati were killed? Not a single bloody person has come forward."
Fred ran his hand through the ginger locks on his head, struggling to take hold of anything. "Sure they can't have been alone..." He argued, "look at Vati, she was in a roomful of people all night."
He turned away from the useless gramophone and it's pratter. "What if.... What if Lavender wasn't meant to be killed," Fred thought out loud, "but it was some kind of fucked up warning." Then he shook his head.
"Oh fuck it, that doesn't make sense. He's been so public before, why would he want to give the press a warning."
Harry had briefly thought of this. It had crossed his mind when he realized the bloke had left the bar before Lavender even had a sip of her drink. According to the bartender, anyway. But then, Marlow showed up and Harry had a strong feeling the attacker fled before anyone would realize what he had done.
He exhaled slowly.
"He's speeding up attacks," Harry said slowly. "First it was seven days, now it's been five. We're just bloody lucky that Lavender lived through this."
"Sooner or later there's not gonna be a Gryffindor from our era left," Fred sighed at the heavy thought. "It's not random, Harry. Someone is targeting us." He knew the auror would know this, but he had to say it out loud.
"And with you as my witness, I swear...." He really didn't know what he swore. That he would kill whoever it was? Main? Badly injure? Single handedly apprehend? Fred lifted his arms and interlocked his fingers behind his head, frustration evident in his movement. As he did this, his loose sleeves slid up, revealing the mottled skin on his right forearm. It had been itching again lately.
"I swear I will take up residence in the pubs and stare down every blonde figure that enters," he concluded.
Harry watched his friend, knowing full well what both Fred and George were capable of. They were infamous for their jokes and tricks but not many people realized it took intelligence to manage all those charms and transfigurations. They were good wizards to have on your side.
He kicked at the ground slightly, knowing full well that the patterns were too hard to ignore. But when he looked back up at Fred - he caught sight of something he'd never noticed before.
"Whoa, Fred," he said, stepping closer. "What did you do to your arm?"
Fred looked at his arm casually, slowly returning them to his sides. "Oh....." He said slowly, stalling for time. "That.... Is...."
There really was no point in lying to Harry. There really was no point in telling the truth either, but Harry was his friend.
"Look, Harry," Fred caught the younger man's eyes. "I'm going to tell you what this is, but I need you to promise you you're not going to think less of me or hate me or any nonsense like that."
There was a heavy pit in his stomach right now, it felt like rocks were piling one by one into it.
There was an odd sort of sense that settled over Harry. He stared, his brow furrowing as he took in the manner in which Fred's mood changed. He hardly ever saw him in such a serious way - even during the most serious of times. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
"Fred-" he paused, not quite sure what to say. "You're my friend - whatever it is-"
He knew that he might not be able to follow through on his words once he found out what was going on. But he was going to bloody well try.
Fred did not want to have this conversation. He knew the disappointment that would clod Harry's eyes. He knew his friend would never look at him the same.... IfHe ever looked at him again.
"Okay, well...." He took a deep breath. "It's like this. And it was a long, long time ago. And Dumbledore knew and he helped me get out and get right and..." Fred was rambling and not actually saying anything.
"Okay. So. Harry, a long time ago, I don't even know how it happened, or what I was thinking, Merlin... I clearly wasn't thinking... But I somehow got all.... Muddled, and.... Confused, and....and joined the Death Eaters."
The last words came out faster than he meant them to. It was the hardest thing he'd ever said, harder than telling George, harder than getting help. He couldn't look at Harry, but he couldn't look away. Fred held his breath while he waited for his friend to reply.
There had been a million scenarios swirling through his head, but this - Fred being a Death Eater - that was absolutely not one of them. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He pulled at the belt loop on his trousers as he rocked back on his heels, his lips pursed in a straight line.
Fred, a Death Eater. No. Was a Death Eater.
And Dumbledore knew.
And Harry didn't.
He took in a deep breath before looking back up to Fred with a weary look.
"Alright-" Harry said. "Alright, Fred - it's okay-"
"It was a long time ago," he repeated miserably, "and I tried to get rid of it." Fred pulled up his sleeve and showed Harry. Blotches of ink could still be seen through the scarred flesh.
"It's not me, it was never me. I think... I think Voldemort," he paused; still say the Dark Lord's name out loud, like Harry did, even after all these years, was hard. But Fred had rebelled against Him, rebelled against everything He'd done to him, everything He'd made Fred do. "I think He did something to my mind, to my thinking. I'd never, ever....." He trailed off and looked at the ground.
His Death Eater days were not something he spoke about. Ever. To anyone. Fred never thought about them, never reflected, and never considered what could have been. There was no use going back over it, no use if, and, or but-ing. What was, was. It made him who he was and want to fight against it even more. He knew how you could be manipulated and controlled.
His eyes darted from his friend to the scarred mark on his arm. He blanched, seeing the pocked flesh and the bits of ink floating through. He didn't quite know what to say. He knew how manipulative Voldemort was - Merlin knew Harry had been on the receiving of it time and time again - had Voldemort in his head more often than not. He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair.
"I understand," Harry said finally. "Look, Fred, I don't- I- you know, it's alright. You fought with me, mate. We're on the same side. We always will be."
"Always, Harry," Fred breathed out a small sigh of relief. He knew it wasn't okay, not really, but for his friend to say it was meant the whole world to him.
"Just wish we could get this son bitch," he said, changing the subject. "Sooner the better." Obviously. Now would be the perfect time to crack a joke.
That was a sentiment Harry could agree with wholeheartedly. Just as he was going to voice this agreement, the room grew a slight chill. A shimmery white lynx came floating into the room - a patronus. He stepped back, watching as the lynx landed on the ground and peered up at Harry.
"Another body found," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice warned the room. "Come to office immediately-"
Bloody hell.
He looked up to Fred with a grimace.
"Looks like Lavender wasn't the only target last night."
"Of, for fuck's sake!" Fred said out loud. "Will this jackass just give it a rest? Two in one night?"
He punched another wall. "Fucking hell, it's like he was angry he didn't get Lavender so he's gone after someone else." He shook his head and glowered towards Harry.
"You better get to Kingsley," he said. "Let me know what you can. I'll get the rest of the pubs bugged."
Harry was beginning to understand this bloke better than before. There was a calculated plan this psycho was following and any deviation caused him to go off. He rubbed at his temples, offering Fred a look of pure exhaustion.
"I'll fill you in when I know what's going on-"
But before he darted from the room, he looked back to Fred.
"Thanks for this-" he said, gesturing to the wall. "It's bloody perfect - and I think it's really going to help."
"Hopefully we got something," he agreed, flicking his wand towards the gramophone. Snatches of conversation began to fill the air.
"Come on love, cook us up a meat sandwich or something!"
"Fuck off, it's 11pm!"
"Oi, I've got connections!"
"Then use them to cook you some fucking food!"
"So who did you get off with?"
"I'll give you a clue. His name ends in a D."
"Gerald!"
"Gerald doesn't have a D in it, you moron."
"...Oh yeah..."
Fred began chewing his lip while listening to the toss coming on loud.
“Bye bye darling.”
“I haven’t gone yet.”
“Don’t come back, piss off.”
"Buy a round and I’ll stay.”
“Ta da, see you tomorrow.”
"Are you on a promise tonight or something?”
A pause in the noise...
“Oh fuck it, you’re back again. Make up your mind. You’re worse than a fiddler’s elbow.”
“He’s like a girl.”
“Yeah, not a very attractive one.”
“What’s a fiddler’s elbow?”
“Back and forth, back and forth.”
"Well this is a load of rubbish," Fred complained, "People are so daft."
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"I can't figure this out," he admitted. "This keeps happening the same way - but somehow last night was different. If Marlow was the only reason the attack didn't continue - who on Earth was around when Oliver and Parvati were killed? Not a single bloody person has come forward."
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He turned away from the useless gramophone and it's pratter. "What if.... What if Lavender wasn't meant to be killed," Fred thought out loud, "but it was some kind of fucked up warning." Then he shook his head.
"Oh fuck it, that doesn't make sense. He's been so public before, why would he want to give the press a warning."
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Harry had briefly thought of this. It had crossed his mind when he realized the bloke had left the bar before Lavender even had a sip of her drink. According to the bartender, anyway. But then, Marlow showed up and Harry had a strong feeling the attacker fled before anyone would realize what he had done.
He exhaled slowly.
"He's speeding up attacks," Harry said slowly. "First it was seven days, now it's been five. We're just bloody lucky that Lavender lived through this."
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"And with you as my witness, I swear...." He really didn't know what he swore. That he would kill whoever it was? Main? Badly injure? Single handedly apprehend? Fred lifted his arms and interlocked his fingers behind his head, frustration evident in his movement. As he did this, his loose sleeves slid up, revealing the mottled skin on his right forearm. It had been itching again lately.
"I swear I will take up residence in the pubs and stare down every blonde figure that enters," he concluded.
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He kicked at the ground slightly, knowing full well that the patterns were too hard to ignore. But when he looked back up at Fred - he caught sight of something he'd never noticed before.
"Whoa, Fred," he said, stepping closer. "What did you do to your arm?"
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Fred looked at his arm casually, slowly returning them to his sides. "Oh....." He said slowly, stalling for time. "That.... Is...."
There really was no point in lying to Harry. There really was no point in telling the truth either, but Harry was his friend.
"Look, Harry," Fred caught the younger man's eyes. "I'm going to tell you what this is, but I need you to promise you you're not going to think less of me or hate me or any nonsense like that."
There was a heavy pit in his stomach right now, it felt like rocks were piling one by one into it.
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"Fred-" he paused, not quite sure what to say. "You're my friend - whatever it is-"
He knew that he might not be able to follow through on his words once he found out what was going on. But he was going to bloody well try.
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"Okay, well...." He took a deep breath. "It's like this. And it was a long, long time ago. And Dumbledore knew and he helped me get out and get right and..." Fred was rambling and not actually saying anything.
"Okay. So. Harry, a long time ago, I don't even know how it happened, or what I was thinking, Merlin... I clearly wasn't thinking... But I somehow got all.... Muddled, and.... Confused, and....and joined the Death Eaters."
The last words came out faster than he meant them to. It was the hardest thing he'd ever said, harder than telling George, harder than getting help. He couldn't look at Harry, but he couldn't look away. Fred held his breath while he waited for his friend to reply.
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There had been a million scenarios swirling through his head, but this - Fred being a Death Eater - that was absolutely not one of them. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He pulled at the belt loop on his trousers as he rocked back on his heels, his lips pursed in a straight line.
Fred, a Death Eater. No. Was a Death Eater.
And Dumbledore knew.
And Harry didn't.
He took in a deep breath before looking back up to Fred with a weary look.
"Alright-" Harry said. "Alright, Fred - it's okay-"
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"It's not me, it was never me. I think... I think Voldemort," he paused; still say the Dark Lord's name out loud, like Harry did, even after all these years, was hard. But Fred had rebelled against Him, rebelled against everything He'd done to him, everything He'd made Fred do. "I think He did something to my mind, to my thinking. I'd never, ever....." He trailed off and looked at the ground.
His Death Eater days were not something he spoke about. Ever. To anyone. Fred never thought about them, never reflected, and never considered what could have been. There was no use going back over it, no use if, and, or but-ing. What was, was. It made him who he was and want to fight against it even more. He knew how you could be manipulated and controlled.
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His eyes darted from his friend to the scarred mark on his arm. He blanched, seeing the pocked flesh and the bits of ink floating through. He didn't quite know what to say. He knew how manipulative Voldemort was - Merlin knew Harry had been on the receiving of it time and time again - had Voldemort in his head more often than not. He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair.
"I understand," Harry said finally. "Look, Fred, I don't- I- you know, it's alright. You fought with me, mate. We're on the same side. We always will be."
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"Just wish we could get this son bitch," he said, changing the subject. "Sooner the better." Obviously. Now would be the perfect time to crack a joke.
Or not. Awkward.
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"Another body found," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice warned the room. "Come to office immediately-"
Bloody hell.
He looked up to Fred with a grimace.
"Looks like Lavender wasn't the only target last night."
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"Of, for fuck's sake!" Fred said out loud. "Will this jackass just give it a rest? Two in one night?"
He punched another wall. "Fucking hell, it's like he was angry he didn't get Lavender so he's gone after someone else." He shook his head and glowered towards Harry.
"You better get to Kingsley," he said. "Let me know what you can. I'll get the rest of the pubs bugged."
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Harry was beginning to understand this bloke better than before. There was a calculated plan this psycho was following and any deviation caused him to go off. He rubbed at his temples, offering Fred a look of pure exhaustion.
"I'll fill you in when I know what's going on-"
But before he darted from the room, he looked back to Fred.
"Thanks for this-" he said, gesturing to the wall. "It's bloody perfect - and I think it's really going to help."
Reply
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