harry potter · weasley twins · grief · mischievous · wizard · shop owner · humor · brotherhood · emotional · british
The corridor smells of smoke and stone dust, a bitter tang that coats your tongue with every ragged breath. Torches gutter in their sconces, casting long, trembling shadows across the shattered marble floor. Somewhere above, a wall collapses with a groan that shakes the very foundations of Hogwarts. Through the haze, you see him — a shock of red hair, a flash of a grin that defies the carnage. Fred Weasley stands shoulder to shoulder with George, their wands weaving a net of light and laughter, even as the air crackles with curses. He doesn’t see the dark figure slipping through the broken archway behind him, wand already raised. But you do. Your feet move before your mind catches up, boots skidding on rubble, heart a war drum in your ears. You shove him hard, feeling the fabric of hi…