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Chapter Text

"Hello, Minister!" Percy's triumphant voice boomed, his jinx finding its mark. The Death Eater, Thicknesse, writhed in discomfort, his wand dropping from his grasp. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

'You're joking Perce!' shouted Fred, as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some kind of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee.

'You are actually are joking ... i don't think I have heard you joke since you were-'

She hesitated. This was not her battle to fight, not her realm to influence, she should not intervene. Yet. Maybe this once, she pondered, her emerald eyes locked on the scene playing out before her.

And then it happened—a cascade of stone and despair, a wall torn asunder by the forces of chaos. The daughter's heart clenched as her gaze shifted, as if in slow motion, to Fred Weasley. Her breath caught in her ethereal throat, a gasp of anguish caught between the planes of existence.

The wall descended with an inexorable force, and time seemed to bend around the impact. She heard the screams, a raw and primal cries that came from his companions. The daughter could only watch as the debris claimed Fred, snuffing out his light.

This was a chance—a chance to rewrite the script, to defy the constraints that bound her.

As Fred's soul slipped through the air, the daughter's instincts took over. Without hesitation, she extended a hand, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his essence. Time seemed to blur, her touch a tether between realms. With a surge of strength, she grasped his spirit, her grip firm and resolute.

And then, the daughter pulled.

Fred's essence responded, a shimmering wisp drawn inexorably towards her. She could feel the weight of his presence, the echo of his laughter. with a silent determination, she wove her power, channeling and changing the very essence of her being.

In an instant that defied the laws of reality, the daughter and Fred were no longer confined to the fractured battlefield. They were a singular, shimmering entity, suspended in the flow of the Force. And then, with a rush of energy, they surged forward, the fabric of existence bending and twisting around them.

The daughter knew their destination, those who took in the broken to make warriors. Who walked the light and yet fought with her children. She felt herself slip away, her presence gradually dissipating like morning mist beneath the rays of the sun. She was a spectral presence, a guiding force that had melded her essence with Fred's in a desperate bid to alter the inexorable path of time.

As her consciousness waned, the daughter clung to her hopes and prayers. The daughter yearned for an end to the eternal conflict between herself and the son. Fred remained the vessel, unknowingly carrying the daughter's hopes and dreams into the unknown. The daughter's essence whispered its farewell, a solemn promise of change that hung like a distant star on the horizon of fate.

Chapter Text

Fred blinked, his vision swimming as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was the chaos of battle, the clash of spells, and the triumphant cry of Percy. His Percy, his favourite sibling. Well apart from George, who didn't really count. But now, all he saw was endless sand stretching out before him, the desert landscape stretching as far as the eye could see.

His head throbbed, and a persistent ringing echoed in his ears, making it difficult to focus. He brought a hand to his forehead, trying to steady himself as he sat up, the gritty sand beneath him coarse against his skin. With a grimace, he took in his torn and burnt clothes. "Blimey," Fred muttered, his voice hoarse as he surveyed his surroundings. "Must've Apparited" 

His heart clenched with worry for his family, for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had been fighting alongside him. Had they managed to escape the chaos? Were they safe? The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbly as he struggled to find his balance.

Fred's fingers brushed against the hilt of his wand, and relief flooded through him as he retrieved the familiar instrument. Gripping it tightly, he aimed to disapparate, to rejoin his family and keep fighting. But to his frustration, nothing happened. He tried again, concentrating with all his might, but his surroundings remained unchanged.

"What in the name of Merlin's pointy nose..." Fred muttered, a growing sense of unease settling in his chest. This was unlike anything he had experienced before. His magic was reliable, a part of him as much as his sense of humor. But now, it seemed to falter, as if the very fabric of reality had shifted.

As he looked around, his gaze sweeping across the vast expanse of desert, Fred's thoughts raced. His skin was miraculously unscathed, a stark contrast to his tattered clothes. Fred's fingers brushed against the fabric, his brow furrowed in confusion. It was as if the explosion had targeted only his attire, leaving his body untouched.

The unease within him deepened, and a thought niggled at the back of his mind, a thought he hesitated to voice. Could he have crossed over, crossed the veil into a realm beyond the living?

But if that were the case, why was there no sign of his family who had already crossed the veil? Shouldn't they be here to welcome him, to guide him through this transition? The absence of their presence left a hollowness in his chest, a sense of isolation that was as unsettling as the shifting sands beneath his feet.

Fred squinted against the brilliant sunlight, his surroundings overwhelmingly bright and desolate. He shielded his eyes with a hand, a frown etched on his features. He needed to think, to formulate a plan, and the blinding light wasn't helping. Plus he was probably already burning.

he needed to find some semblance of shelter, to escape the harsh sun that beat down upon him. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of respite. But as far as he could see, there was nothing but rolling sand dunes, stretching into infinity.

Resignation settled in as Fred set his sights on the tallest dune within his view. He knew it was a long shot, but it was his best chance at finding some shade. Gritting his teeth, he trudged through the sand, each step a struggle against the shifting terrain. His progress was slow, every stride a battle against the sands.

Finally, he reached the base of the dune, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Ignoring the burn in his muscles, Fred began to climb, his fingers clawing at the sand as he pulled himself upward. The ascent was grueling, his body aching with exhaustion, but the promise of being able to see shade or salvation kept him moving.

As he reached the summit, Fred's vision swam, his strength giving way. He stumbled, his legs buckling beneath him, and he collapsed over the crest of the dune. The sand beneath him was cool, a welcome contrast to the scorching heat he had endured. With a weary sigh, Fred's eyes fluttered closed, his thoughts drifting as he succumbed to the exhaustion that had overtaken him.

His teeth chattered when he woke up. The temperature had plunged dramatically since his last moments of consciousness. With a determined grimace, he reached for his wand, his fingers fumbling slightly due to their numbness.

Concentrating his efforts, Fred cast mending charms on his tattered clothes. The fabric stitched itself back together. Growing up in a large family, he was no stranger to hand-me-downs clothes in need of mending.

His throat felt parched. He raised his wand, casting the Aguamenti spell, but to his frustration, nothing happened. There was no water around to pull from, leaving the spell ineffective. Did it really matter if he was already dead?

Fred's gaze drifted skyward, and his heart skipped a beat. There, hanging in the dark expanse above him, were two moons. . The desert at least was a familiar sight, one he had witnessed during his visit to the Egyptian deserts to see his brother Bill. A grateful smile crossed his face as he recalled his mum's habit of making him carry a handkerchief. It might have seemed old-fashioned, but it was a lifesaver now. Pulling it out of his pocket, he quickly transfigured it into a makeshift scarf, wrapping it around his head as Bill had once shown him, providing some relief from the biting cold.

With renewed determination, Fred crawled back up the sand dune, his muscles protesting but his resolve unbroken. The world around him was shrouded in darkness, except for a faint glow in the distance. It could be civilisation? Or was it simply the last trace of the sun's glow, leading him further into the unknown?  What did it really matter in the land of the dead. maybe this was Arawn calling him home.

His mind made up, Fred got back on his feet and started walking. Step by step, he pressed forward, his determination propelling him onward. He walked through the darkness, his path guided solely by the faint glow that beckoned him from afar.

As the sky gradually lightened, the landscape around him began to reveal its features. Dunes stretched endlessly, their contours undulating like waves frozen in time. The sand crunched beneath his boots, a steady rhythm that matched the beat of his heart.

Fred's steps became measured, his pace unwavering even as the sun's rays broke through the horizon. The desert was relentless, unforgiving in its harshness, but Fred kept moving. His thoughts were singular, his goal clear—he had to reach that distant glow, whatever it might be.

The sun climbed higher, its scorching rays intensifying the heat around him. Fred's forehead glistened with sweat, and his breath came in labored puffs. But he didn't stop. He couldn't afford to. Determination and a hint of desperation fueled his every step.

When the heat became almost unbearable, Fred slowed his pace momentarily, his wand flicking as he cast cooling charms on himself. The relief was instant, a respite from the relentless heat that threatened to sap his strength. He pressed onward, his resolve fortified by the small victory.

Time seemed to blur as Fred continued his trek across the desert expanse. With every step, he felt a sense of purpose, a connection to something greater than himself. The distant glow remained his guiding light, a beacon that kept him moving forward through the unforgiving sands. As he walked, the land of the dead seemed to unfold around him. He could swear that his ancestors were calling to him, theist voices loud in the heat. 

Chapter Text

Fred's mind was all jumbled, like puzzle pieces scattered in the sand. He kept stumbling ahead, following that distant glow in the desert.

The desert seemed to stretch forever. Fred felt so hot. He cast another cooling charm on himself, thinking it would help, but it didn't. He took off his shirt to cool down, but the sun burned his skin. His fingers looked blue, yet he felt like he was burning up. Death was all mixed up, like a topsy-turvy world that only made sense in dreams.

The sun went down, and it should be cold. Fred was cold the first night, but he was still so warm.  He remembered waking up, but he didn't remember sleeping. Time was a mess. Days passed, but Fred couldn't tell how many. He was starving, but he didn't really feel hungry. Everything was mixed up, like a weird dream. His throat had already dried closed long ago by this point.

Fred collapsed on the ground, feeling awful. The sun was blazing, making things worse. Then he heard a humming sound, like a distant tune.
A strange floating car thing came close. Fred's head was a mess. People with blond hair emerged from the car, their faces etched with concern.

One of them hurried over, bending down. They reached out a hand towards him, only to quickly pull it back as if they'd touched something hot.  More of them gathered, their expressions filled with worry. They spoke agitatedly to each other in a language he didn't understand.

Fred's eyes felt heavy as he closed them, his body trembling and weak. Maybe when he awoke he would finally be with his ancestors instead of this strange version of death.