Categories > Books > Harry Potter > In Essence Divided
Chapter 3
Fred pushed the cold steel handle of the door. It opened soundlessly, and he looked left and right. No one looked at him as he left his father behind, this was a ward that sent people scurrying around, reading charts, grabbing tinctures and potions as they nearly ran. This was no game, he was not going to good-naturedly turn back and sit down. George wasn't here because of one of their experiments gone wrong; he was here because someone hurt him. Someone wanted him dead, of that he had no doubt. Someone had hurt his brother enough to place him in this ward. Reserved for only the most serious of cases, and the thought made Fred's blood boil in his veins.
Medi-witches were used to seeing Fred and George frequently. A few smiled at him, not knowing exactly why he was here, others gave him a sad look, knowing probably more than he did. He walked down the halls, knowing his way around the corridors well. He glanced in each room, looking for a shock of red hair that matched his own.
There. In the last room on the left. Fred pushed the door open and steeled himself for the sight before him. George was lying stiller than Fred had ever seen him. Even in his sleep, George was moving, kicking, rolling. Seeing him here lying so still chilled Fred to the core. It was more unnatural than anything thus far. He made his way slowly to his brother's side.
George's face was pale as a sheet and seemed drawn. No emotion was there; his eyes didn't even flicker in sleep. He looked nothing like himself, more like a painted corpse laid out for visitation. Fred violently pushed the image from his mind and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked out the window not wanting to look at his brother again. The sky was dark and he wondered where all the hours had gone since this morning. The glass beyond was black; the night was darker than any other he had seen. He looked back to the unnatural features on his brother's face. Fred realized that his brother looked nothing like him right now. They had never been so far apart and so different. He felt a stab of resolve to find whoever did this to his brother. He wanted to make them pay. Inside he knew that no amount of revenge was going to take this image away from him, it was going to stay locked in the dark part of his mind, constantly reminding him that the world was not what he always thought it was.
Fred's face hardened, his jaw clenched. An ache started in the base of his skull and crept over his head. A steel determination took hold of him and he knew for a fact that whoever did this was going to pay. He would stand idly by while someone did this to someone else. Whoever did that was going to spout some answers. He would be sure of it.
In that moment, Fred knew that he had changed. Forever. Nothing was sacred anymore; he wasn't complacent. Not everyone was nice, not every situation could have light shed on it. People were out there who didn't care what they did or who they hurt. Fred was going to make those people see that what they did was wrong. He was no stranger to strife, all the things that his family had to deal with, but it had never affected him the way that the course of that day did. This would not roll of him; nothing could ever replace this utter uncertainty. All the times his father had taught him to let things go, he was abandoning in this room. His parents may fear loosing a child, but he feared loosing the other half of himself. An irreplaceable part that just wouldn't grow back or get better.
He looked to his brother and back to the window. Mirrored in the glass was his face and he was disturbed. He thought that he and George looked completely different because of what had happened, but as he studied his faint reflection, he realized that they had never looked more alike. A shiver ran through him and he turned away from the black window and put his face in his hands.
Fred pushed the cold steel handle of the door. It opened soundlessly, and he looked left and right. No one looked at him as he left his father behind, this was a ward that sent people scurrying around, reading charts, grabbing tinctures and potions as they nearly ran. This was no game, he was not going to good-naturedly turn back and sit down. George wasn't here because of one of their experiments gone wrong; he was here because someone hurt him. Someone wanted him dead, of that he had no doubt. Someone had hurt his brother enough to place him in this ward. Reserved for only the most serious of cases, and the thought made Fred's blood boil in his veins.
Medi-witches were used to seeing Fred and George frequently. A few smiled at him, not knowing exactly why he was here, others gave him a sad look, knowing probably more than he did. He walked down the halls, knowing his way around the corridors well. He glanced in each room, looking for a shock of red hair that matched his own.
There. In the last room on the left. Fred pushed the door open and steeled himself for the sight before him. George was lying stiller than Fred had ever seen him. Even in his sleep, George was moving, kicking, rolling. Seeing him here lying so still chilled Fred to the core. It was more unnatural than anything thus far. He made his way slowly to his brother's side.
George's face was pale as a sheet and seemed drawn. No emotion was there; his eyes didn't even flicker in sleep. He looked nothing like himself, more like a painted corpse laid out for visitation. Fred violently pushed the image from his mind and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked out the window not wanting to look at his brother again. The sky was dark and he wondered where all the hours had gone since this morning. The glass beyond was black; the night was darker than any other he had seen. He looked back to the unnatural features on his brother's face. Fred realized that his brother looked nothing like him right now. They had never been so far apart and so different. He felt a stab of resolve to find whoever did this to his brother. He wanted to make them pay. Inside he knew that no amount of revenge was going to take this image away from him, it was going to stay locked in the dark part of his mind, constantly reminding him that the world was not what he always thought it was.
Fred's face hardened, his jaw clenched. An ache started in the base of his skull and crept over his head. A steel determination took hold of him and he knew for a fact that whoever did this was going to pay. He would stand idly by while someone did this to someone else. Whoever did that was going to spout some answers. He would be sure of it.
In that moment, Fred knew that he had changed. Forever. Nothing was sacred anymore; he wasn't complacent. Not everyone was nice, not every situation could have light shed on it. People were out there who didn't care what they did or who they hurt. Fred was going to make those people see that what they did was wrong. He was no stranger to strife, all the things that his family had to deal with, but it had never affected him the way that the course of that day did. This would not roll of him; nothing could ever replace this utter uncertainty. All the times his father had taught him to let things go, he was abandoning in this room. His parents may fear loosing a child, but he feared loosing the other half of himself. An irreplaceable part that just wouldn't grow back or get better.
He looked to his brother and back to the window. Mirrored in the glass was his face and he was disturbed. He thought that he and George looked completely different because of what had happened, but as he studied his faint reflection, he realized that they had never looked more alike. A shiver ran through him and he turned away from the black window and put his face in his hands.
Sign up to rate and review this story