In Essence Divided

Chapter 4

It hurt. Oh Merlin did his head hurt. There was a throbbing at the base of George’s skull that threatened to pull him under the veil of unconsciousness again. George tried to open his eyes, he tried to move. Nothing. He was locked in this pain and there was nothing he could do. Snippets of conversation around him drifted to his ears. Healers discussing remedies, medi-witches checking on him. People poking at him with their wands and questioning just what had happened to him.

George tried to remember. How had he gotten here? He had been here often enough before. He and Fred were often visitors here, the medi-witches were on a first name basis with them and often laughed at their attempts at new products gone wrong.

The first memory hit his already throbbing brain like a hammer. He was just waking up when they arrived. George had gotten up early and planned to go to Madame Puddifoot’s to get Fred a cup of coffee and show him that he did posses the ability to wake at a decent hour. He knew that his brother would appreciate the gesture, as he had probably been up with mum all night.

He had showered and dressed and was walking down the stairs when a knock sounded to the shop door. George had leapt down the last few steps, hoping that it was just Fred. Maybe Fred had forgot his key again. George had thrown the door open, not even checking to see who it was.

A jinx hit him square in the chest and he fell to the floor. George remembered feet running past his face, but he couldn’t get to his feet. Many more people entered and the door was shut behind them. They immediately went about the shop, obviously having planned this, they knew what they were looking for. Fred watched as three of them started for the workshop.

Fred tried to get up, he rolled. Whatever spell he had been hit with made all his movements sluggish and clumsy. He reached for his wand and got to his feet. He managed to stun one of the attackers, but several more rounded on him. His vision was cloudy but he was roughly grabbed and pulled up the stairs.

Someone put a cloth over his eyes and started asking questions about the products that they had been developing for the Ministry of Magic.

George had to stop this memory. His head hurt more and more as he thought about it. But he had to try to remember everything, if he pushed them away now, he might never remember every detail.

“What else are you planning for the Ministry?” The gruff voice asked him.

George didn’t answer. He knew better than to breach the security of the Ministry by giving out this information, so he kept his mouth shut. He tensed knowing that a spell was surely coming his way. Although it was nonverbal, he knew that it was without a doubt Crucio.

As George remembered it, he wanted to wince with the pain that just the memory brought to him. But he was still unable to move a single muscle.

The spell was removed, and the question asked again. Still no answer.

George knew what was coming next before the man gave the orders. They were told to search the entire building for any notes or correspondences from the Ministry. They were apparently serious and organized.

Fred and George had never taken notes for their products. They relied on their memories. It was more a matter of pride and sales than keeping such information from falling into the enemy’s hands. They had kept notes before, but after having them vanished by their mother when she cleaned their rooms, they learned quickly that they would have to rely on their brains. He knew by heart the ingredients for over a thousand products and the steps to make all of them.

But his brain failed him now, as it would not gather its wits and think of a plan to get him out of there. George had been subjected to every type of torture a wizard could imagine. Except for Avada Kedavra.

He briefly wondered why. There was no reason for them not to kill him, or take him hostage. Why had they let him there for his brother to find? What was the reason for that? George knew he had lost consciousness well into the ordeal. And he had woken up here.

WHERE WAS FRED? George’s mind went into a panic. Where was Fred, what had happened to him. George knew that he had been due home around the time of the attack, where had he gone, had he walked in, was he dead? He had to wake up, he had to know.

He slowed his groggy and panicked mind long enough to listen around him. Silence.

“Poor thing, hit by that many curses. I wonder if he’ll wake up.” A medi-witch with a soft voice was talking to someone. Were they talking about him or Fred? He felt his panic rising again, he had to know what was happening. How long had he been here?

Frustrated, he started to disentangle himself from the spell that had been put on him, his mind fighting their effects like a man through a dense jungle. He felt like he was deep in the sea and trying to get to the surface. He knew if he didn’t know what happened to his brother soon, he was going to drown.

Agony. His eyes opened and the light cut his pupils like a dagger. He squeezed them shut again, the pain was momentarily too much. He tried to speak this time as he opened them, a hoarse voice escaped his parched throat.

“Fred?” He felt someone next to him stir. A face hovered above his. It was blurry, but he would know his other half in a pitch-dark room.

“I’m here George, oh Merlin! He’s awake!” Fred’s voice grew loud and George braced himself for the onslaught of people who barged into the room.