TWENTY-SIX

WORRY PRETENDS TO BE NECESSARY
BUT SERVES NO USEFUL PURPOSE
ECKHART TOLLE

ASPEN ANDREWS was a worrier. Everyone who knew her was more than aware, having more than likely observed the frequent anxiety that ebbed through her uncomfortably. Yet arguably, Aspen had never known worry quite like this.

Darkness shrouded the Burrow on the evening of the twenty-seventh. Inside, Molly, Ginny, Aspen and Alessia waited impatiently for their family's return, but with every passing minute, it only seemed more futile. The eldest of the bunch was staring irritably at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds until the first arrival was supposed to materialise. Meanwhile, the other three girls sat stoically on the couch, Aspen in the centre with her arms wrapped protectively around Ginny and her sister. The embrace did little to stem their distress, and rather, it served as a reminder of the others that were missing from their usual spaces around the living room.

"That's it," Molly said, a hint of defeat in her voice. "They've missed it! They should be back by now."

Aspen felt her stomach lurch, twisting into painful knots. Ron and Tonks were to be the first back, and the prospect that they had not arrived was terrifying. Ron was so young, only a year older than her sister and barely legal, for that matter. Tonks, too, was young, but more importantly, just married, much to Aspen's surprise. She had not even had time to even discuss it yet, and the idea that she never would was enough to leave her beyond panic-stricken.

"They'll be back, Mum," Ginny said, although she sounded unconvinced all the same. "You know what Auntie Muriel is like, she'll be fussing over them and they'll just have missed it."

"Yes. You're probably right," Molly said, although her eyes were misty and she turned away to hide her uncertain despair.

Despite Ginny's attempt at reassurance, the four women did not seem comforted in the slightest. A thick tension settled around them all, and Aspen could not tame the way her heart hammered viciously against her chest. Molly's eyes were determined, trained the clock, and yet in contradiction, Aspen found that knowing only made her feel worse.

"Another one," Molly said grimly, dragging the three girls from the almost peaceful unknown. "Fred and your Dad, Ginny. They're late."

Aspen almost had to excuse herself to vomit. Fred had promised her he'd be okay, and they were suspiciously late. Things should have gone off without a hitch, and yet so far everything seemed to have gone wrong. Alessia slipped her hand into her sister's in hopes of providing a morsel of solace, having become all too aware of the dismay that radiated from her like a firework about to explode.

"I think I need some air," Aspen said quietly, mostly to herself, and she detached herself from Ginny and Alessia, stumbling over her own feet as she forced herself out of the Burrow's back door.

The night sky was peaceful, perhaps eerily so. She was used to the light-polluted city of London, where evenings were never truly dark, and yet in the countryside, nothing but inky shadows and muted shapes surrounded her. In front of the house, in the long grass, she could hear the muffled chirp of grasshoppers amidst the silence. Desperately, she tried to focus on them, the solitary noise, rather than the invasive thoughts of her loved ones falling, tumbling through the sky from their brooms to their sorry ends.

A loud pop drew her from her imagination. Out there, in the long grass of the front yard, Harry and Hagrid lay, collapsed against the wet ground. Stunned that they'd even arrived, she was shocked into stillness. It wasn't until the screams of those inside alerted her that she ran forward, Molly, Ginny and Alessia hot on her tail as they rushed to their aid.

"Harry? You are the real Harry? What happened? Where are the others?" Molly cried.

"What d'you mean? Isn't anyone else back?" Harry panted, and Aspen blinked back tears. That was not a good sign.

"The Deatheaters were waiting for us," Harry continued. "We were surrounded the moment we took off - they knew it was tonight - I don't know what happened to anyone else. Four of them chased us, it was all we could do to get away, and then Voldemort caught up with us-"

Aspen winced at the name. She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, and suddenly, even the vague hope she had left that they would all survive diminished quickly. What were the chances that the large group of fourteen would all succeed in their mission? Low, she reckoned, thinking back to the battle at the astronomy tower - deatheaters were not the type to play fair, and fighting at such a pace in the sky would never have been an easy task.

"Thank goodness you're alright," Molly said, tugging Harry into her arms as the others observed helplessly.

She disappeared shortly inside in search of brandy for Hagrid. Aspen suspected that most of all, she needed the moment alone to collect herself, the fear that her family would not be okay settling in like a sinking boat. Aspen couldn't blame her - she too was drowning in the prospect of it all, and couldn't quite imagine how Molly was feeling from a mother's perspective.

Ginny had began to explain the missing few to Harry, pointing out the discarded Portkeys that had arrived on their own. Aspen refused to listen, detesting the simple reminder that Fred was yet to arrive. By now, he must have been at least ten minutes late, and every passing second was eating away at her from the inside out. She looked away, needing a distraction, and found one in the approaching light in the distance. The others were distracted, explaining and discussing, and in Hagrid's case, drinking copious amounts of brandy to wash away the evening's despair.

"Look!" Aspen called, pointing towards the light amidst the inky darkness.

The group turned, peering into the gloom as the light drew closer. Then, finally, they could make out two figures, spinning and falling into view. Aspen's stomach lurched as she saw Remus, discernibly struggling to support George. She bolted forward instinctively, although her knees soon grew weak at the sight of him. Blood cascaded from a massive wound at the side of his head, and his body was limp, an obvious sign that he was unconscious from the loss.

Aspen wasted no time in diving forward to help. She leapt forward, seizing George's legs and grunting under the weight of him. Together, Remus and Aspen shifted him inside, through the kitchen and into the living room, where he sprawled back against the couch cushions. It was only then that they all noticed the problem in perfect unison - under the dim lamp light, it was glaringly evident that George was missing an ear. The side of his neck was slick with fresh blood, and there was nothing but a gaping hole where his ear had once been. Ginny's gasp was loud enough for the whole room to hear, and Aspen reached out for her sister, who was beginning to look increasingly queasy at the sight.

Aspen had intended to help, but naturally, Molly had barged past, stooping over her son to assess the damage. Just as she did, Remus grabbed ahold of Harry and dragged him back toward the kitchen, holding his wand to his neck accusatorially. So much was happening at once that it was beginning to make Aspen's head spin dizzily.

"Oi!" said Hagrid, who was still forcing his vast frame through the small back door. "Let go of him! Let go of Harry!"

"What creature sat in the corner, the first time Harry Potter visited my office at Hogwarts?" Remus demanded, ignoring Hagrid's request as he gave Harry a vicious shake. "Answer me!"

Aspen found herself unable to pay attention, and tuned back out. For the time being, any thoughts of Fred had been ripped from her mind as George took first position instead. He had lost so much blood, Aspen wondered about his chances of recovery, and she stooped by his mother's side in hopes that she could provide aid. Molly was hopelessly trying to fix him, but it seemed like a fruitless endeavour - there was no possible way to repair an ear that had been cursed off.

There was a scuffling at the back door, and Aspen instinctively reached for her wand. It seemed Remus had beaten her to it, and both he and Harry had raced outside to see who it was. The quiet tension in the living room allowed her to listen to the two voices that she could easily make out as Hermione and Kingsley, and content with that revelation, she returned to the task at hand. By now, Molly had stemmed the bleeding, and with the scarlet flood gone, it became distinctly apparent that all that was left of George's ear was a large, gaping hole.

Molly looked defeated, as if she had failed her son with her inability to grow back his ear. Still, it was enough that he was alive, and Aspen wrapped an arm around Molly's shoulders, her only attempt at consoling a terrified mother. It seemed she appreciated it nonetheless, returning the hug as she stared desolately at her unconscious son.

"How is he?" Harry asked from behind them, having re-entered from the garden.

"I can't make it grow back, not when it's been removed by Dark Magic. But it could have been so much worse... he's alive," Molly said, hands trembling at the prospect of her boy dying.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Thank God."

"Did I hear someone in the yard?" Ginny asked tersely from her spot at the head of the couch where she stood over George protectively.

"Hermione and Kingsley."

"Thank goodness," Ginny whispered. They looked at each other, and Aspen looked away, deciding the two perhaps needed that moment for themselves. Instead, she clung to George's hand, fingers intertwined as she willed him desperately to wake up.

Moments later, an uproarious crash sounded from the kitchen. The whole of the living room turned their heads in astonishment at what on earth could make such a noise, and Aspen considered the prospect of the Death Eaters having followed them home to finish the job. Her fingers brushed across her wand, which lay idly in waiting inside her pocket.

"I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"

It was Arthur, red in the face and bald patch glistening with the vague sheen of sweat. Aspen had never considered that such anger could come from him, a man who was always delightfully kind and calm. It was only as he burst into the room that she remembered who he had been travelling with - Fred. Right behind his father, he hurried inside, and was clearly torn between the two most important people in his life - George and Aspen.

Aspen quickly made space at the front of the couch for Arthur, who dropped to his knees and peered at his son's wound, pale in the face. She moved towards the back, and Fred stumbled over to her side, speechless and agape at the state of his twin in front of him. Aspen quickly slipped her hand into his, both in an attempt to comfort him, and for herself, to silently celebrate that he was alright. Then, miraculously, as if he had been waiting for his brother's arrival, George began to stir, grimacing in pain.

"How do you feel, Georgie?" Molly asked, voice trembling.

George's fingers fell to the side of his head, groping blindly. Aspen felt Fred's fingers digging into her palm, a sign of the fear that was paralysing him. She let her thumb dance across the back of his hand, hoping to offer him some faint comfort in doing so.

"Saint-like," he murmured.

"What's wrong with him?" Fred croaked, sounding like he was ready to cry. "Is his mind affected?"

"Saint-like," George repeated, and suddenly Aspen could think of nothing but a permanent bed in St Mungo's with his name on it. "You see... I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"

Molly sobbed harder than ever, but it was as if the breath everyone had been holding in was released at once. Colour flooded Fred's face as he let out a choked chuckle of disbelief, and Aspen would have slapped him had he not been so badly injured.

"Pathetic," Fred exclaimed. "Pathetic! With the whole world of ear-related humour before you, you go for holey?"

"Ah well," George said, grinning at his tear-stained mother. "You'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum."

"You are positively cruel, George Weasley," Aspen said, but there was the inkling of a smile on her face as relief flooded her.

He shot her a dazed wink before glancing around the room.

"Hi Harry - you are Harry, right?"

"Yeah, I am," Harry said, and moved closer to the sofa.

"Well, at least we got you back okay. Why aren't Bill and Ron huddled round my sickbed?" George asked, and Aspen would have scoffed if they hadn't all been so terribly worried about the others. George's missing ear was proof that this mission had been more dangerous than they'd expected, after all.

"They're not back yet, George," Molly said, and Aspen watched as his grin faded into a grimace.

The group seemed to dissipate after that, some disappearing outside for air or private discussions. Eventually, the only three left in the living room were Aspen and the twins, who were advancing already towards the inevitable twisted humour referencing George's tragic injury. The rest were outside, and the subtle sound of new arrivals was enough to ease them into a sense of security.

When everyone began to traipse inside again, the chatter was gone, and not just because it was silenced by the trio's fits of hilarity. Arthur and Molly came in first, faces drained of colour on ce again as they looked gravely at the three.

"What's wrong?" said Fred, scanning their faces for any possible hints. "What's happened? Who's —?"

"Mad-Eye," said Arthur. "Dead."

Their grins fell and were replaced instantaneously with sorrowful winces of shock. Aspen was at least glad to see Tonks was safely back, but she was sobbing into a handkerchief — Mad-Eye had been her mentor, and a close friend to her within the Auror department. She would have leapt over to hug her had Remus not already been by her side, arm wrapped around her protectively. Without a word, Bill approached the sideboard and gathered a bottle of Firewhisky.

"Here," he said, and waved his wand to send several glasses soaring across the room. He held his own aloft. "Mad-Eye."

"Mad-Eye," they all said, and drank.

Aspen recognised the familiar burn as the alcohol trickled down her throat, and yet it soothed her just enough. She sat between Fred and George, and each boy seemed just as shocked as she was. It was as if things were never going to look up, with disaster following disaster in a constant loop. As the others fell into avid conversation, Aspen drank until the glass was empty, her head dizzy at the uncertainty of it all. How were they ever supposed to go on like this?