The Inadequate Life

Seamus and Dean ran up the thin alley between Flourish & Blott’s and Madam Malkin’s, heading toward the main street of Diagon Alley. Seamus fired a Stinging Hex over his shoulder, which reached the back of the alley right as a pair of Death Eaters did. Seamus snickered at the yells, but didn’t stop running, and got around the corner to the front of Madam Malkin’s just before a retaliatory Curse took off the paint on the wall.

“I think you made them angry,” Dean said with a grin, crouching behind a barrel to hide.

“You think?” Seamus risked a glance around the corner, and then pulled his head back just in time to miss being hit by another Curse. “Yep, definitely angry,” he confirmed. “Do you think—”

“Agk!” Seamus spun at the strangled sound, and stared in shock at the things that had Dean.

They looked like they had probably once been human, back when they’d been alive. But their eyes were sunken to bare sockets, and what remained of their skin was rotten and peeling from their bones. Inferi! Seamus thought with horrified disgust.

Three of the Inferi had a hold on Dean, who was fighting with some moderate success. But three more were descending on him, and three more were heading for Seamus.

“Bloody—Incarcerous!” Seamus shouted, and one of the Inferi tripped, cords wrapping around him. But more were coming. Seamus had no time—they were too close, so he started shouting hexes, jinxes, anything that came to mind; “Incarcerous! Impedimenta! Tarantallegra!” Two more Inferi reached Dean—it would only be seconds before they did him permanent harm, or worse: “Hyttan Çowerselfus Ealne!”

To Seamus’ shock, the nearest Inferi began to strike itself in the head, with both fists, over and over. He hadn’t realized that the Permanent Self-Punching Hex would work on dead people. What was more, the thing was unable to stop punching itself, and unable to carry on attacking. “Hyttan Çowerselfus Ealne!” Seamus shouted again, and again, pushing his way through the now-ineffective Inferi to get a clear shot at the ones holding Dean. “Hyttan Çowerselfus Ealne!” he cried, and the one with its hands on Dean’s neck let go to punch itself. He cast the hex four more times, and the Inferi finally dropped Dean, who lay breathing raggedly on the ground. But his eyes were open—weak with relief, Seamus ran over. “Dean! Dean, are you—”

“mokay,” Dean croaked. “Throat hurts—” He glanced around them; The Inferi hadn’t left, but they were all standing around doing nothing but punching themselves. They clearly didn’t feel any pain, but some of them were starting to look pretty ragged around the head. “What—” Dean asked raspily.

“Self-Punching Hex,” Seamus said with a grin. “C’mon, we should get you to St. Mungo’s.”

Dean shook his head. “Fine,” he croaked, getting to his feet. “Jst my thrt. C’n still fight.”

Seamus was about to protest when something big went flying between them. Jumping back, Seamus and Dean both gaped. It was the head of an Inferi.

They both turned and jumped back when the body of the Inferi who’d just punched its own head off ran at them. But rather than attacking, the thing fell to its knees and began punching the head that lay on the ground.

Seamus and Dean stood watching it for a moment. Then Dean, whose voice already sounded clearer, said “I bet that’s the first time that’s ever happened.”

Seamus stared at Dean for a second before chortling. “If you make a dumb joke about them losing their heads in a fight, I’ll hex you myself,” he choked. Both of them broke out laughing.

“Hey!” Both boys jumped when Angelina swooped out of the sky on her broom and hovered next to them. She looked around; by that point there were three or four Inferi who’d punched off their own heads.

“Er, sorry,” Dean said with embarrassment, looking around to make sure they weren’t about to be attacked by Death Eaters. “We’ll pay attention…”

“No, that’s not it,” Angelina said impatiently. “Give me one of those heads!” When both boys gaped at her she rolled her eyes. “It’s like a Quaffle, see? I’m out of Fred and George’s gren-aides, I want to chuck it at the Death Eaters!”

Both boys grinned hugely once they understood. Seamus shoved one of the Inferi over while Dean grabbed the head it was punching, and tossed it to Angelina. Angelina took off, flying back down Diagon Alley toward Gringotts bank—and the Inferi body got to its feet and ran off in roughly the direction she was flying. Apparently the Hex was powerful enough to keep the victim after its head even when they were separated by a good distance.

Seamus and Dean watched it run away. “We should try playing football with the heads,” Dean suggested.

“That Muggle sport you’re always on about?” Seamus said. “Sounds boring. Let’s not get in over our heads here.”

Dean groaned at the horrible joke. “You know, I don’t get where the Gryfindor ghost Nick gets off complaining that he’s only Nearly Headless. If you ask me, he got of light.”

Both boys laughed, and left the rather pathetic, still punching bodies in order to return to the fight.

*****

Sally-Ann and Terry were trying to decide how to get a group of five Death Eaters to come out; they were holed up in a little cul-de-sac next to the magical junk shop, and weren’t budging. Neither Sally-Ann nor Terry were carrying any of Fred and George’s inventions, and the stone walls the Death Eaters were behind were too thick for their hexes to penetrate.

As they watched and contemplated from their own hiding place within Ollivander’s, Sally-Ann and Terry saw Angelina fly down and hurl something right into the center of the clustered Death Eaters. Whatever it was was bigger than one of Fred and George’s grenades, and it certainly didn’t explode when it hit—but the Death Eaters all leapt to their feet, yelling in shock.

“Come on!” Sally-Ann shouted, shoving the door open. The Death Eaters were all exposed and distracted, so she fired off a Stunning Spell the second she was in range. Terry was right behind her, and his Stunning Spell followed right on the heels of hers. Two of the Death Eaters dropped. The others turned, but Sally-Ann was already firing a second spell; “Levicorpus!” she shouted, and yet another Death Eater found himself dangling upside down by his ankle.

The other two collected their wits and fired Curses. Sally-Ann dodged to one side and Terry to the other, tossing random hexes just to distract the Death Eaters long enough for them to find cover again. But before The Death Eaters could do more than dodge the errant hexes, something that neither Terry nor Sally-Ann thought they would see in a million years happened.

An Inferi came shuffling quickly around the corner. At least, most of an Inferi—its head was missing. It barreled into one of the Death Eaters, knocking him into the other, and all three fell over. Startled, but not wanting to miss their chance, Sally-Ann and Terry both fired multiple Stunning Spells at the pile of body parts. When the Death Eaters were no longer moving, they approached cautiously, and once again gaped in shock.

The Inferi had dug up the head that Angelina had apparently picked up and thrown at the Death Eaters, and was punching it repeatedly. “Must be Ginny’s Permanent Self-Punching Hex,” Terry observed blandly.

Sally-Ann opened her mouth to agree, but a chill froze her breath. “D-do you f-feel that?” she asked.

“Behind you!” Terry shouted, making Sally-Ann spin around. Two Dementors had emerged from nearby and were heading for them.

“Hell!” Sally-Ann shouted, stumbling backward into Terry. “I can’t cast a Patronus!”

“Help!” Terry shouted as they backed away. “Anyone!”

Sally-Ann cast a Flame Charm at the Dementors, but it didn’t faze them. Terry tried a Trip Jinx, then a Binding Spell, but they didn’t work either. Get away!” Sally-Ann cried, feeling the cold seeping into her.

Terry pushed her away from him. “Run!” he shouted at her. “RUN!”

“I—I—” Sally-Ann froze as the Dementors broke apart, one headed for Terry and one for her. She tried to make her legs run, but instead they gave out and she fell to her knees.

The Dementor glided soundlessly to her. At least, Sally-Ann thought it was soundless—she could only hear distant bells, like the ones at the church her Muggle parents had made her go to every week, where she’d learned about Hell and damnation…

The Dementor reached down and took Sally-Ann’s face between its leathery hands. Drawing her to her feet, it reached up and pulled back its hood—revealing its repulsive, gaping mouth. Sally-Ann could only whimper helplessly as it brought that mouth to hers…

“Expecto Patronum!”

Bright white light burned Sally-Ann’s eyes, startling her. The Dementor stumbled, backing away from her, and Sally-Ann fell to her knees again, too shaken to keep her feet.

Blankly, she watched as the Dementor fell on its back. A huge glowing raven attacked its face, pecking at where its eyes would be, its ears, its mouth. Patronus, Sally-Ann thought numbly.

“Sally-Ann?” Luna Lovegood crouched down in front of Sally-Ann and studied her. “Are you still there?”

“I—yes, of course,” Sally-Ann said a bit dazedly, and Luna smiled with obvious relief. Sally-Ann shook her head. “What happened?”

“Two Dementors attacked you,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “Lee and I only just got here. I’m afraid we weren’t quite in time.”

“Lee—you—what do you mean?” Sally-Ann asked. “I’m okay, really…” her voice trailed off as she began to remember. “Terry,” she whispered. “Is Terry—?”

Luna glanced to her left. Sally-Ann followed Luna gaze, and a cry escaped her lips.

Lee was crouched down about ten feet away, while behind him his own cow Patronus still stomping on the disintegrating remains of a Death Eater. Beside Lee was Terry—and Terry’s eyes were empty and hollow. He just stared at nothing, his jaw hanging slightly limp, his arms unmoving at his side. “Oh no,” Sally-Ann sobbed quietly. “No, no…”

“Come on, Sally-Ann,” Luna said with surprising compassion, standing and urging Sally-Ann to do the same. “We’ll take you and Terry to St. Mungo’s.”

“No p-point,” Sally-Ann stammered, wiping her wet cheeks on her sleeve. “T-Terry…”

“You are alive, Sally-Ann Perks,” Luna said with unexpected fervor. “Terry will have everything he needs. Mourn if you have to, but your life is too precious, too important, to stop living.”

Sally-Ann stared wide-eyed at Luna, who’d sounded very other-worldly just then. “Are—are you a seer, Luna?” she asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” Luna replied honestly. “But I’ve been asked that many times.” She put her arms around Sally-Ann. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “St. Mungo’s!”

*****

Fred and George darted from the doorway of the magical instrument shop to the burned-out ruins of Florean Fortesue’s ice cream parlor. As far as they could tell, there weren’t many Death Eaters left—the D.A. had taken down an incredible number of them—but Fred and George were trailing three Death Eaters they’d spotted creeping in the direction of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George wanted to make sure the Death Eaters didn’t wreak havoc on their shop—or worse, find their way to the flats above.

George poked his head out the door of the ice cream shop and glanced about. “It’s getting quieter,” he muttered. “Those Death Munchers haven’t moved again yet.”

“Good,” Fred answered. He looked around the ruins of Florean Fortescue’s. “Great location, this. Think we could get a discounted rate to lease on account of it being attacked by Death Eaters?”

George was about to retort when two red bolts zipped out of the sky. He barely had time to dodge before Angelina and Alicia flew right through the door and into the shop, pulling up just short of the far wall. “Bloody hell, what’s that about?” George exclaimed.

“We’re out of gren-aides, George!” Alicia said.

“And we can only throw so many Inferi heads before the Death Eaters stop being surprised,” Angelina added.

George’s eyes lit up. “Really? Do it again, would you? I didn’t get to see—”

“George! Fred!”

All four of them spun at the hissed words. “Who’s that?” George demanded.

“Thank Merlin! It’s me, Charlie!”

Charlie Weasley ran up the steps and into the room, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t think anyone saw me,” he said, his eyes wide. His wand was clutched in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Where in the name of Dumbledore’s purple knickers did you pop up from?” Fred asked incredulously, jogging over.

“I went to drop in on Bill at Gringotts,” Charlie told them. “Forgot today’s Sunday, he isn’t working, idiot that I am. But then hell broke loose, and the goblins locked down the bank! I only just snuck out, and saw you creeping in here! What in Merlin’s name is going on? It’s like a battlefield out there!”

Fred looked at Angelina. “He always was the observant one in the family.”

“Ha ha,” Charlie retorted. “Seriously, what’s happened? I must’ve seen three or four dozen Death Eaters lying around unconscious! And there’s craters everywhere from Merlin knows what, and I thought I saw Hagrid on the ground! Where the bloody hell is Harry?”

Silence. Then, his voice sober and full of accusation, George asked “Why would Harry be here, Charlie?”

“What? Oh come on, everyone knows that you’re close with Harry,” Charlie said dismissively. “I mean, he married Ginny, for Merlin’s sake! I just figured—”

“We didn’t mention Harry at all,” Fred said sharply. “As far as you should know, we just got caught in the middle of a big battle—right?”

“I never said you weren’t—”

“But you asked where Harry is straight off,” George growled. “Not Ginny, mind you, and not Ron, to know if they’re okay—Harry. Why’s it so important for you to know where Harry is?”

“It’s not, all right?” Charlie snapped. “He’s just who came to mind!”

Angelina and Alicia watched the tense exchange with mounting confusion. “Fred?” Angelina said finally. “What’s going on?”

“He’s not acting normal, that’s what!” Fred said, turning to look at her. “If Charlie ever—”

“Look out!” Alicia leapt forward and pushed Fred and Angelina aside just as Charlie barked out an incantation. His wand arm jerked at the last second, but the Curse still hit Alicia hard, spinning her around and dumping her on the filthy wooden floor.

“SHITE!” George didn’t have time to draw his wand; when Charlie spun toward him he leapt forward, grabbing Charlie’s arm and trying to force the wand tip toward the floor. “Charlie—stop!” George panted as he wrestled with his older brother.

“Let—go—” Charlie demanded. He wrenched his arm in so the tip was momentarily pressed against George’s torso. “Incendio!”

George screamed as his shirt erupted in flames. He immediately let go of Charlie and dropped to the ground—leaving Charlie in the open. “Bombarda!” Angelina shouted, pointing her wand.

Charlie flew across the room, slammed into the already damaged wall and went half through it. He ended up draped back through a jagged hole, the upper half of his body hanging limp on the other side.

“Ange, don’t!” Fred shouted even as he pointed his wand at George. “Aguamenti!”

A jet of water shot from the tip of Fred’s wand, dousing the flames on George’s front. “What do you mean, don’t?” Angelina demanded as Fred helped George to his feet. “Charlie just—”

“Imp—Imperius,” George said through gritted teeth. “His wand jerked. Bloody hell, this hurts!”

“Go to St. Mungo’s,” Fred ordered George. “I’ll get Charlie. Ange, grab Alicia!”

George growled out “St. Mungo’s!” and disappeared. “Fred,” Angelina said weakly, kneeling beside Alicia, “Ali—”

“What?” Fred asked, already dragging Charlie out of the wall. “Hell, he’s a bloody mess—”

“Fred, Alicia—”

“Shite! Ange, I think Charlie’s hurt really bad—”

“So’s Alicia!” Angelina shouted.

“What?” Fred looked over. Angelina was cradling Alicia, who wasn’t moving; “Ali?” Fred said faintly.

“I—she’s barely breathing, Fred…” Angelina stammered.

“St. Mungo’s!” Fred shouted. “N—”

Fred and Charlie appeared in the foyer of St. Mungo’s before he could finish. “—ow!” he blurted, and stumbled, almost dropping Charlie. “Bugger!”

There was a lot more going on in St. Mungo’s than Fred could remember seeing. To his dismay, he saw a woman in a Medi-Witch uniform seated on a bench, trying to talk with Terry Boot. But Terry wasn’t responding—he was staring straight ahead at nothing, his eyes sunken and empty. That doesn’t look good…

Fred looked around for George, but his twin was nowhere to be seen. “Er, hello?” Fred said, trying to get some attention amidst all the activity.

Angelina appeared right next to Fred, carrying Alicia in her arms. “Help!” she shouted immediately, tears streaking her cheeks. “We need—”

“We’re here!” a voice called. Half a dozen Medi-Witches descended on Fred, Angelina and their burdens. “Your brother said you’d be here,” one of them told Fred shortly. “He’s being treated now. What’s wrong with these two?”

“Cursed,” Angelina said sharply before Fred could open his mouth. “I didn’t catch the incantation, but it hit her full-on! You have to—”

“Let us decide what we have to do,” one of the other Medi-Witches interrupted brusquely, prying Alicia’s eye open and peering at it.

“Nn—” Fred jumped as Charlie stirred in his arms. “N-no…geroff,” he demanded, pushing ineffectually at Fred and the here Medi-Witches around him.

“We’re here to help you, son,” one of the older women said soothingly.

“Don’ want help!” Charlie demanded angrily, shoving again with more force. Then he coughed, raggedly and violently—and blood spilled over his lips, dripping on the floor.

“Young man! You’re badly hurt, you need help!” the Medi-Witch insisted in alarm. But despite his obvious injuries, Charlie kept trying to refuse aid and get away, pulling himself out of Fred’s grasp even though he could barely stand.

“It’s the Imperius,” Fred realized. “Voldemort doesn’t want him to live!”

The Medi-Witches all flinched at Voldemort’s name. “What? You mean—you mean You-Know-Who…?”

“I mean Voldemort!” Fred snarled. He grabbed one of Charlie’s arms. “Come on, you stupid bugger!” he ordered. “Where’s George?” He demanded of the Medi-Witches. “My twin, where is he?”

“He—he’s in the Emergency Magical Trauma room, through there,” one of them offered shakily. “But—wait, you can’t go in!”

Angelina grabbed the still-struggling Charlie by the other arm. “They took Alicia off,” she told George matter-of-factly. “They’ll do ev—they’ll do everything they can for her. He’s getting weaker, Fred,” she observed as Charlie slumped in their arms. “What do you have in mind?”

“George,” Fred said, dragging Charlie across the hall. “He saw Hermione break the Imperius on Seamus! He has to do it to Charlie!”

It was a slim hope, he knew, but they had to try something. Ignoring the protests of the Medi-Witches, Fred and Angelina carried Charlie to the door across the hall and shoved it open.

Inside, George was laid out on a table, wincing as a Healer worked on the burns on his chest. They both looked around when the door slammed open; “Here, you can’t—” the Healer started, and then gaped at the struggling, bleeding mess of Charlie. “Merlin!” he exclaimed, forgetting about George. “Why isn’t that man Stunned?”

Fred pulled up short and stared for a second. “Well excuse us for being a bit preoccupied,” he muttered.

George leaned up. “What is it?” he demanded when he saw Fred.

“Imperius,” Fred answered, panting from the exertion of restraining Charlie. “He’s still fighting it. Do you remember how to break it?”

George stared for a second; then he hopped off the table, and gritted his teeth in pain. “It takes two,” he said. “But I think I remember…” He wavered for a second and caught himself on the table. “Still a bit woozy…Fred, you better cast a Remembrance Charm on me so I get it right.”

“Now wait just a minute!” The Healer snapped. “You’re my patient,” he stated angrily, pointing at George, “and you two,” he added, indicating Fred and Angelina, “can’t be in here!”

“Like hell they can’t!” George snapped. “That’s our brother!”

“Even so—” the Healer began indignantly.

“Shut up!” Angelina bellowed, making everyone start. She let go of Charlie, pulled out his wand and pointing it at him. “Stupefy!” she snapped, and Charlie slumped unconscious.

Angelina Levitated Charlie onto a table. Then she stormed over to George, grabbed him and shoved him toward his brothers. “Figure out what we have to do,” she ordered. “And you,” she continued, rounding on the Healer so furiously that he stepped back a pace, “Charlie was put under the Imperius Curse, possibly by Voldemort himself. We are going to break it so he can tell us what happened. And if you so much as say another word to try and stop us, I’m going to tie your arms behind your back and then dance a quick-step on your bollocks! We’ve spent this morning fighting wand-to-wand with over a hundred Death Eaters and watching our friends get injured or killed, we’re on-edge and we’re curse-happy, so we’re not in the right frame of mind to put up with any SHITE!”

She left the Healer gaping and stormed over to Fred and George, who’d just let her get on with it. “Figured it out?” she asked.

“Yeah,” George said. “Here’s what you have to do…”

The Remembrance Charm Fred had cast allowed George to recall every detail of the day that Hermione and Pansy had broken the Imperius Curse on Seamus. While the Nervous Healer and the Medi-Witches crowded around Charlie to try and Heal him, George described the two roles of the Curse-breaking to Fred and Angelina. Then the three of them hurried over to the table.

Charlie had three Medi-Witches holding compresses to his open cuts to stop the bleeding, and another tipping a blood-replenishing potion into his mouth, while the Healer used his wand to run a series of diagnostic charms. Despite their desire to free Charlie from the Imperius Curse and find out what had happened, Fred, George and Angelina were struck with the seriousness of Charlie’s injuries. “How—how bad is it?” George asked one of the Medi-Witches.

“Bad,” she said bluntly. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he was severely hurt inside as well as out. What happened to him?”

“Bombarda,” Angelina said dully. “It was me. I did it. He attacked us… he’s under Imperius—”

“Yes, I caught that,” the witch said ironically.

“—and he Cursed our friend Alicia,” Angelina continued wretchedly, “and he did that to George and I had to stop him so I just cast the first thing that came to mind…” She looked up at Fred, her eyes full of tears. “I killed him, didn’t I?” she asked softly.

“No,” the witch said vehemently, surprising them. “First of all, he’s not dead just yet, and won’t be if we have anything to say about it. Secondly, if You-Know-Who really did have this young man under the Imperius Curse… well then, anything that happened as a result is You-Know-Who’s fault, isn’t it?”

“Blast!” The Healer exclaimed, making everyone start. “He’s got some sort of internal damage, but there’s magic preventing me from Healing it or even telling what’s wrong! Muriel, go and call for Healer Turnipseed, she knows more about these things then I do. And hurry!” he added as the Medi-Witch who’d just been talking turned and raced for the door. “This man needs Healing now!”

“I know what’s stopping you from Healing him,” Fred growled. “The Imperius Curse! Voldemort wouldn’t want Charlie to survive and give up Voldemort’s secrets!”

The Healer stared at Fred. “And you can break the Curse?” he asked.

“Yeah, we can!” Fred snapped.

“Then do it,” the Healer ordered, stepping back. “Until you do, I can’t help him!”

Fred and Angelina hurried to both sides of the table, with George joining Fred. The Medi-Witches made room for them; “Is—is there a danger to us?” one of the witches asked.

“No,” George said. “Go on, do it,” he said to Fred and Angelina.

Despite Fred and Angelina never having cast the Counter-Curse before, George’s description had been very thorough. They did have four false starts—with the Healer fidgeting nervously behind them—but on the fifth try, Fred and Angelina both gasped when they’d finished. “Fred!” George exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Fred said tiredly. “It worked—I could feel it work!”

“Me too,” Angelina agreed.

“Good, Hermione said the same thing when she did it,” George said.

The Healer started to move forward, but froze when Angelina raised her wand. “What—”

“We have to wake him,” she stated flatly. “And find out what happened.”

“His life is in danger!” the Healer cried, his voice cracking. “The longer we wait—”

“More lives than his are in danger,” Fred interrupted, his eyes meeting Angelina’s. “Do it, Ange.”

Angelina could tell that it was killing Fred and George, what they were doing—their first instinct was to do whatever it took to save their brother’s life. But Fred was right—Charlie could have unwillingly endangered all of them even worse than they’d imagined. He’d compromised the Order of the Phoenix’s safety, he could have undermined the security at Gringott’s… Whatever it was he’d done, they had to know. No matter what.

Clenching her jaw to keep from crying, Angelina angled her wand at Charlie once more. “Enervate,” she said.

Charlie’s eyes fluttered open. His eyes darted around for a second—and then he coughed, spitting up more blood. “Charlie!” George shouted, leaning forward. “Charlie, are you—”

“F-f-free,” Charlie sighed. He rolled his head to the side and looked up at Fred and George. “Gred and F-Forge,” he rasped with a shaky grin. “You b-broke the C-Curse…”

“And Angelina,” George said. “Charlie, what happened?”

Charlie’s face twisted. He grabbed Fred, who was closest, by the front of his robes and pulled him down. “D-didn’t w-want to,” he gasped, his eyes pleading. “V-V-”

“Voldemort,” Fred finished. “We know, Brother-o. We had a pretty good idea you didn’t Imperius yourself.”

Charlie shook his head slightly. “C-Caught me in a pub after w-work,” he coughed. “M-made me—give him s-secrets…sent him w-word of m-meeting—” His eyes widened and he struggled to sit up. “H-Harry—M-M—”

“McGonagall,” George said, pushing Charlie back down. “We know. It was a set-up to get Voldemort to commit his Death Eaters to attack. Harry and McGonagall are fine.” I hope, he added silently as Charlie relaxed. “Charlie, how long has it been? He asked. “When did he get you?”

“T-two m-months…”

Fred, sucked in a sharp breath, and George and Angelina both made furious exclamations. Two entire months under Imperius, and none of them had noticed… “Charlie, listen,” Fred said, swiping at his eyes so he could see through his tears, “is anyone else in danger? Did you give Voldemort any information that could put the Order at risk, or the Ministry, or Gringott’s?”

Charlie shook his head slightly. “J-just ordered me to—to find him H-Harry…”

Charlie coughed again, and a bit more blood came out of his mouth—and alarmingly, his left ear. “All right, that’s it!” the Healer demanded, shoving Fred and George aside. “It’s my duty to Heal this man—I will not stand here and watch while he dies by degrees!”

Fred, George and Angelina didn’t protest; they backed away to the foot of the bed as the Healer and Medi-Witches descended on Charlie. Charlie coughed, and stared at the twins as the Healer began to work. “S-Sorry,” he whispered, seeming fainter than before. “T-tried to f-fight. F-forgive me….”

Fred swallowed the lump in his throat. “Nothing to forgive, Charles,” he said softly. “Except for your appalling lack of taste in drinking companions, apparently.”

Charlie let out a surprised—but thankful—half-laugh, half- cough. Although he didn’t say anything more, the gratitude and relief were unmistakable on his face.

“All right, out!” the Healer shouted at them, not taking his eyes off of Charlie. “If you want your brother to live, then GET OUT!”

And there was nothing more that Fred, George and Angelina could do but leave.