(a Harry Potter fanfiction by rocky)

The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

Chapter 1:

The Facade

 The scarlet train billowed smoke, emitting a loud whistle. A sensation of excitement hung about the air. People were talking animatedly, running down the train’s corridors to their various compartments. The smell of summer hung in the air. Everything seemed perfect. A young man standing in the shadows took one last draw on his cigarette as he boarded the train.

"What a facade," he muttered.

Fred Weasley boarded the train just in time. With one last blast of a whistle, the train was off, leaving a trail of steam behind it. Fred meandered down the now empty corridor, passing several compartments before entering one on his left.

"’Lo, Fred."

Fred smiled at the speaker. "All right there, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "As good as could be expected," he said with a wry smile. There were several other people in the compartment as well, but at the moment Fred couldn’t tell who they were, seeing as they were all pulling their robes off over their heads.

One of the figures succeeded in pulling off his robe and smiled at Fred, his green eyes strangely languid. "Hi, Fred. See you made it on."

Fred let out a dry laugh. "Lucky me."

"Oh, Fred," came a muffled voice. "It’s better than being stuck…well, there, isn’t it?" The third person emerged from the tangle of robes. Hermione’s hair flew out at odd angles from the robe being shoved over it. "I mean," she continued, folding her robe neatly. "Who knows what happens there, afterwards I mean."

Fred shrugged. "Perhaps you’re right. But—" he was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open. The mirror image of Fred stepped through the door. He nodded at Fred. "Better get your robes off, Fred. They’ll be coming in a couple minutes."

Fred shook his head. "Yes, I know George," he muttered, quickly pulling his robes over his head.

From the end of the corridor a loud commotion started. George quickly stepped inside the compartment, closing the door. "Just in time," he muttered, glancing at his twin.

The commotion grew louder as it came nearer to them. Deep masculine voices kept shouting out commands. Sometimes these were followed by quieter protests, but these sounds were always quickly stifled. Hermione quickly wiped her eyes at the sound of some girls screaming. George put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly their compartment door flew open. A burly man stood in the doorway, with another heavy man standing behind them holding a large bag. The first man looked somewhat like a squirrel on steroids, and Fred could have sworn the second was some sort of gorilla-man hybrid.

"Well?" shouted Squirrel-man. "Where are they?"

Harry silently threw the man the cluster of robes. Gorilla Hybrid grunted and tossed them unceremoniously into his bag. Squirrel-man sneered at them. "What, no objections from you lot?" The man’s taunt didn’t get the reaction he had hoped for. Ron’s jaw clenched together a little tighter, and Fred’s nails dug into the compartment seat. Squirrel-man laughed. "Fine by me. Hyde, get their numbers. And remember," he added, turning to the people sitting in the compartment, "I don’t want to see any of you wandering around. Or you’ll be sorry." He marched off to the next compartment, leaving Gorilla Hybrid standing there with a notebook and pen. He glared at them, pen poised over the paper. "Well?" he grunted.

"One, two, three, thirty-two, and thirty-three" came Fred’s monotone reply.

Gorilla Hybrid grunted once again (it seemed the only noise he was capable of making) and slammed the compartment door shut. The friends sat in silence for a moment, before Gorilla Hybrid once again opened the door and threw in five small packages. He gave them one last grunt before closing and locking the door.

Hermione bent down and picked up the package labeled ‘3’. "Well," she said, opening the package, "maybe they’ll have mended my pants this year." She pulled out a pair of very frayed khakis. "Maybe not."

Fred sighed and picked up package thirty-two. Same thing every year. Three pairs of socks, three pairs of boxers, one pair of jeans, one white shirt, one blue sweater, one tan overcoat, and one tan fedora. Of course, each and every item embroidered with ‘32’. He glanced over at his friends’ items. There was little variety between them. Everyone got the socks, the underwear, one pair of pants, two shirts, one coat, and one hat. It was the same every year. Fred supposed it would never change. He sighed and looked out the window at the country flying by.

How many years had it been? Since She had first created them, molded them, gave them life. For that, he was grateful to Her. After all, if it wasn’t for Her, he wouldn’t exist. But sometimes he thought it would be better not to exist. Better than living in this land of fiction.

She had no idea what happened to Her Characters when the books ended. But then, did any of the Authors know? Did any of them realize that when they wrote, they created real people who had to live whatever lives were written for them? Well, for a short while at least. After the story was written, they were herded like cattle back to the Corporation, where they waited for Her to write the next saga in their lives.

Fred glanced over at his two brothers, dozing fitfully. Brothers? Well, not in the literal sense. He loved them like family, of course he did. But after all, they weren’t truly his brothers. They had not been born into the family, they had been written into the family. He tried not to think about it. It just made him angry and confused whenever he did.

It was almost pleasant in Her stories. There at least he had some semblance of a real life. It was so easy to forget who you were, just go along with the flow of it all. In Her world, he was Fred Weasley, twin of George Weasley, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Eighteen years old, just finished his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Loved Quidditch, wanted to open a joke shop with his brother. It was all so simple, yet all so phony.

Fred sighed, watching the rain pelting the window outside. It had been four years according to the books. Four years in the life of Harry Potter. To the Characters, it had been much longer. At least eight years. Fred glanced over at Harry, napping next to the window. Fourteen? He had to be at least eighteen by now. No longer a naïve eleven year old. He had grown up outside of the books. But then, they all had. Fred laughed to himself at the thought of being eighteen. Eighteen? Oh, how he wished he were eighteen again.

Each time, it was the same thing. After the story ended they were taken back to the Corporation. They stayed there until they were herded back to take part in the next book. Fred couldn’t remember once in his life when he had decided what to do, what to wear, what to eat. It wasn’t a real life.

Fred stopped his musings. The train was slowing down. They were almost there. He turned to George and shook him, none too gently. "Get up," he said. "We’re here."

George muttered something and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. Fred tossed package 33 to him. "Come on. We’d better get these on. Wake the others." If there was one thing the Guards couldn’t stand, it was a Character not wearing their appointed clothing. Fred could never understand why. He supposed it was just one of their little pet peeves.

Ten minutes later, Fred, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were slowly walking towards a large gray building, surrounded by mud and barbed wire fences. The rain pelted down on the mass of huddled Characters, all slowly trudging towards the Corporation. Fred glanced around at the crowd. He could see Lee Jordan helping Ginny Weasley along the trodden path. Neville Longbotton and Parvarti Patil deep in conversation. Severus Snape covered in mud. Apparently he had fallen somewhere along the way.

As they approached the barbed wire fences, two Guards opened them. They were marched through into the compound, where they divided off into groups, each Character trying to find their barrack, the barrack they would live in until She wrote Her next story.

Fred walked slowly through the cramped hallways with George until they found a door with the numbers thirty-two and thirty-three on it, along with some other numbers. "Well," said George. "Here we are." He pushed open the door and entered the room.

It was a tiny wooden room. The only items in it were five bunk beds, a lamp, and a water basin. A small window showed the rain outside. The room was freezing. Fred pulled his overcoat tighter around him.

"Wonderful. I get to share my room with you two," came a cold voice from a bed. Turning around, Fred and George saw Draco Malfoy sitting on the edge of a bottom bunk. Fred nodded to him. "Draco."

Draco’s eyes turned to slits. "Listen, Weasley, just because—" he was interrupted by the opening of the door. Fred glanced over his shoulder to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione enter the room.

"Oh, we’re sharing a room, are we?" Ron looked quite pleased. "Excellent!" George pointed to the figure on the bed. Ron’s face fell. "Oh."

Hermione looked at the bunk beds. "Ten beds. Who else is coming, do you think?"

"I, for one." Hermione turned to see a gorgeous woman standing in the doorway. Her silky blonde hair flowed down her back, shimmering even in the low light of the room. However, Fred thought she would have been much more attractive had there been any sort of sparkle in her inanimate blue eyes. But then, he supposed, not many people had gleams in their eyes here.

"Hello, Fleur," Hermione said kindly to the newcomer. "You must be number 107?" Fleur nodded. Ron watched her hair bouncing with an awestruck look on his face.

Fred sighed inwardly. Fleur was a good person, much nicer than She made her out to be. But she was a bit of an airhead, and she was definitely too pretty for her own good, or for the good of any testosterone driven person within a five mile radius of her.

Fleur plopped down on a bed. "So, we are waiting for three more, eh? I wonder ‘oo zey will be…"

They didn’t have to wait long. Not more than five minutes later three tall men walked into the room. "Everyone here?" one of them said. "The Guards should be here any minute."

Harry gave his first genuine smile of the day. "You three are the last, Sirius. Hello, Remus, Oliver." Remus gave a wane smile and threw his small package on one of the bunk beds, while Oliver Wood walked over to shake Harry’s hand.

The door to their room burst open with a loud crunching sound. Everyone spun around to face the now open doorway. Three Guards stood there, one with a pencil and a checklist.

"Number One!" he shouted.

"Here," came Harry’s bleak reply.

"Two?" "Yes," Ron said.

"Three?" "Present." Fred almost laughed. Even at this place, Hermione tried to be polite.

"Eleven!" "Here," Malfoy replied in a low voice.

"Thirty-two?" Fred made a sound, as did George when they called out thirty-three.

"Forty-eight?" Wood raised his hand.

"Sixty-five and seventy-eight?" Sirius and Remus indicated their presence.

"And one hundred seven…" "’Ere," came Fleur’s melodious voice.

The Guard turned away. "Good. All here. Get some sleep, you lot! I don’t want to hear a peep out of you."

***

Fred listened to the rain pounding against the window. He tried to get a glimpse of the stars. He had always loved the night skies. They presented an escape from his world. The way the window was positioned, however, it was difficult to see anything. He sighed, trying to ignore the sounds of the other’s snores. He could never sleep in this place. Never.

Fred heard a snort from the bed across from his. Looking over, he saw George staring at him. "Fred," he whispered. "What are you doing up?"

Fred shrugged. "Couldn’t sleep."

George let out a small sigh. "Like always." They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rain.

"George," Fred said suddenly. "Remember that story Mum used to tell us? That one about a land called Reality?"

George frowned. "Yeah. What about it?"

A small light began to grow in Fred’s eyes. "What if it wasn’t just a story. What if it was real?"

George chuckled quietly. "It’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Being able to live our own lives, get away from this awful place…" He looked over at Fred. "Why do you ask?"

Fred stared at the window for moment before answering. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet George could barely hear him. "I’m going to find a way out, George. I can’t take it here any longer. And I’m taking people with me. At least, everyone in this room." He looked over at his brother. "I’m going to find Reality."

George gave his twin a patronizing look. "Fred, you’re obviously very tired. You don’t know where it is, hell, you don’t even know if it exists! Listen, just get some sleep—"

"Can’t sleep now," Fred murmured. "I have it all planned out. We’ll travel west. We’re never allowed to go that way, the Guards won’t let us. So there must be something there. And whatever it is, it has to be better than this place." He looked his brother in the eye. "Are you with me, George? Please, I need your help!"

George saw the look of desperation in his brother’s eyes and sighed. "All right, Fred. I’ll help. When do we go?"

Fred gave a small smile. "Tomorrow night."

***

Chapter 2:

Escape

"So everyone’s clear on this? There can’t be any mistakes, or the whole thing could be ruined." Fred looked at the serious faces around him. "All right. We’d better get dressed, the Guards will be here soon."

Fred and George had woken the other members of their barrack before dawn. This brought many grumbles from their friends at first, but when they found out why they were being woken up, their complaints turned to rapt silence. Even Draco listened carefully to the plan outlined by the twins. It was simple. Usually the best plans were simple. When the moon rose high enough so they could see it through their window, Hermione would cast a Silencing spell on the room. Remus would then perform a simple Breaking charm on the window. Their window faced east, so after climbing through the window all they had to do was head in the opposite direction to go west. With any luck, they would be well beyond the Corporation’s reach by sunrise.

Fred regretted having to tell his roommates so early about the plan. It would have been better to tell them that night, but that would leave little time for mental preparation. Telling them early was a risk though. He knew they would be jumpy all day, thinking about the getaway that night. Would the Guards suspect something? Secrets leaked out quickly in the Corporation. And there was another thing tickling the back of his brain. He hadn’t figured out how they were going to get through the fence. Digging would take too long, and they would be lucky to climb over in one piece, what with all the barbed wire lining the top of the fence. He could only pray a solution would present itself before that evening.

Fred forced these thoughts out of his head as he arrived in the mess hall for a late lunch. He took a seat next to Harry and glanced down at his near-empty dish. A piece of bread and flaccid carrot adorned the plate. Harry smiled at the look on Fred’s face. "Cheer up now, Fred. Remember, I supposedly eat like this at the Dursley’s all the time." Fred returned the grin and took a bite out of the bread, which turned out to be rather stale.

Someone pulled out the chair next to Fred’s place. Glancing up, Fred saw Oliver sitting down. Oliver placed his hat down on the table, a blue baseball cap with his number, forty-eight, on the front in green stitching. "’Lo, Fred," Oliver said, glancing up and down the table. Fred could tell he was agitated about something.

"What’s up?" he asked softly, taking a bite from his limp carrot.

Oliver leaned in closer, still glancing around. "Fred, are you sure we can’t take anyone else? I’ve been thinking, and all these people—we can’t just leave them—I mean—"

"You don’t think it hurts me to leave so many behind?" Fred interrupted. "Hell, Oliver, I’m leaving behind family. But we can’t take anyone who’s not in our barrack. How would we manage it? It’s tricky enough as it is. Look, how ‘bout taking a walk with Harry and I outside? Clear your mind up a little bit." Oliver took a nervous glance over at a Guard before nodding his consent.

‘Outside’, the small area between the Corporation building and the barbed wire fence, was in reality a bunch of mud with a workbench in the middle. Various tools were kept at the small workbench, and Characters were encourage to build things in order to "amuse" themselves. Of course, the workbench was under the constant supervision of a Guard, so no Character would be tempted to steal or build a tool that would help them escape.

Fred, Harry, and Oliver walked around the building, careful not to trod in the muddy puddles scattered across the area. Eventually they were on the west side of the building. The three men watched the sun sinking slowly into the horizon. The barbed wire fence was eerily silhouetted against the blood red sky.

"Just think," Harry whispered. "By this time tomorrow we’ll be over that fence, who knows where."

Fred was about to reply to this when a loud shout made all three jump. "Hey!" It was a Guard, running towards them. "What do you think you’re doing?" he yelled, stopping barely a foot away from them.

Fred shrugged nonchalantly. "Just watching the sun set. Last time I checked that wasn’t a crime."

The Guard scowled. "You’re number Thirty-two, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you. Always giving cheek to us Guards. Well, I’ll teach you to show a little respect. You’ll get no meals for the next twenty-four hours. Now get into your barrack! You two also, get a move on," he said, looking menacingly at Oliver and Harry before stalking off.

Oliver sighed. "You shouldn’t have done that, Fred."

Fred laughed. "And why not? I’m not going to be here in twenty-four hours anyway. Listen, you two go on to the mess hall, grab a bite to eat. I’ll see you back at the barrack."

Fred’s stomach growled as he entered the barrack room. He let out an exasperated breath as he took his fedora off his unruly red hair. Just as he was about to lie down for a few hour’s rest, George and Sirius burst in the room, looking very excited about something. Fred raised an eyebrow at them.

Sirius let out a gruff laugh. "No need to be suspicious, Fred. Look what George uh…liberated."

Fred walked over to where his friends were standing, and George opened his hands to reveal a gleam of metal. Fred drew in his breath sharply. Glancing at the doorway to make sure no Guards were listening, he said quietly, "George, where did you get it?"

George’s eyes sparkled as he turned the wire-cutters over in his hand. "They were just sitting there on the workbench. What was I to do? I figured they might come in hand tonight…"

Fred looked from George to Sirius, a broad grin on his face. "You bet they will."

*

Night had fallen deeply over the Corporation. Wind pounded against the barracks, seeping through cracks in the wood. Remus glanced up at the window. "Storm’s comin’."

The ten people sat silently in the cold barrack. After an attempt at playing cards and a short scuffle between Ron and Draco, they had all succumbed to sitting in tense silence, occasionally glancing out the window. Fred seemed the calmest out of them all. He lay on his bed, fedora over his eyes, looking for all the world as if he were having a peaceful slumber.

"I can’t take much more of zees," muttered Fleur dramatically, nervously twirling her hair in her fingers. "Zee anxiety is not good for me--"

"Oh, Fleur," cut in Hermione irritably. "We’re all in the same spot as you, and we’re all handling ‘zee anxiety’ just fine."

"Why you—" began Fleur, but she stopped abruptly as Fred sat up and stared out the window. The room seemed to stop breathing. After several seconds, he said calmly, "It’s time."

*

The mess hall looked slightly ominous after dark. The long tables cast eerie shadows across the floor, and the high windows let in very little moonlight. Amid the darkness and shadows, one could barely see the Guard sneaking off to the kitchen.

He was supposed to be on watch duty outside. But, as he figured, why bother? No one came out there at night anyway. He’d just grab a bite from the kitchen then sneak back to his post. No one would ever know he was gone.

As he was stealing quietly back out from the kitchen, a loaf of bread tucked under his arm, he spotted something on one of the tables. Curious, he drew closer. It was a single blue baseball cap, with green stitching on the front reading "48".

The Guard chortled. Not only did he get a midnight snack, but he got to yell at a Character for "being careless with his personal belongings." Silently complimenting himself on his good luck, the Guard started sauntering towards number Forty-eight’s barrack.

*

"There you are, Hermione. Sirius and Ron are on the other side to help you down." Fred let go of Hermione’s hand as she dropped to the other side. Fred congratulated himself silently. Three down, seven to go.

The plan had gone incredibly smoothly. Hermione had cast the perfect Silencing charm, and Remus had successfully broken the window. Sirius, Ron, and Hermione had gone through the window with no problems whatsoever. Fred glanced out the broken window. Rain was starting to come down, softly at first, but slowly gathering force with each raindrop.

"All right, Draco, you next," George said quietly. "Ron and Sirius—"

"I don’t think I shall need help climbing out a window," Draco replied coldly before slipping out of sight.

Oliver and Remus easily succeeded in climbing outside. Fleur managed, although not without many dramatics and much persuading by Fred and Harry. Soon only the twins and Harry were left in the tiny room.

George put his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. "Finally! I thought we’d never get Fleur through. The way she was acting, you would have thought we were trying to get her to commit suicide!"

Fred smiled, turning to Harry. "You go next. We’ll follow. After that, we’ll head around to the west side of the building. Get the others ready." Harry nodded and climbed nimbly out the window.

George looked at his twin. "Well," he said, smiling. "This is it."

Fred gave a mock bow, grinning. "After you."

George chuckled, preparing to go out the window. "Why, thank you number Thirty—"

A loud banging sounded on the door. Fred and George stopped, frozen. Suddenly, the door bashed open. A Guard stood there with a blue baseball cap in his massive hand. He looked around the near empty room, slowly taking in the broken window and the two men standing by it, one half way outside.

All at once, it clicked inside his brain. Dropping the baseball cap, the Guard turned and sprinted out of the room, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "Breakout! Room sixty-five, escape!"

Lightning broke through the driving rain, illuminating the room and the twins’ pale faces. Fred shoved George out the window. "Go!" he yelled, scrambling through after him. He landed heavily on the ground, splattering mud everywhere. He took one glance at his bewildered friends before saying urgently, "Come on, they’re on to us. Around to the west side, hurry!"

Forgetting all thoughts of cautiousness, the friends dashed around the Corporation, mud flying behind them. A siren started blaring from inside the building. Hermione stumbled, but Harry grabbed her by the arm and dragged her upright.

Sirius caught up with Fred, panting. "Fred! They’re following us!"

Fred glanced over his shoulder and felt his stomach melt. Guards were storming out of the grey building, pounding hard after them. Thunder and lightning split the night sky. Tearing his eyes from the fearsome sight, Fred dug the wire-cutters out of his coat pocket and tossed them to Ron, still running hard.

"Ron, you’re the fastest, run up ahead and cut a hole through that fence!" Ron caught the wire-cutters and, barely able to breathe, started sprinting towards the fence.

Abruptly, a gunshot exploded through the night. Fred heard someone behind him cry out. Turning, he saw Oliver fall, a dark red spot growing on his side. Fred doubled back, yelling to George, "Get them through the fence!"

Fred ducked down and grabbed his wounded friend. "Come on, Oliver, can’t leave you behind," he grunted, pulling his friend upright. Oliver gave a gasp of pain but did his best to run alongside Fred.

By the time the two of them reached the fence, Ron had managed to cut a small hole in it and George was sending people through. "Quick," said George, wiping water out of his eyes. "Get Oliver through." With Hermione pulling on the other side, Oliver managed to slide through the gap in the fence, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Fred glanced over his shoulder. The Guards were quickly gaining on them. He spun back around and forcefully shoved Draco through the hole. Only three left. Another gunshot was fired, barely missing Harry’s shoulder, who scurried through the fence, calling over his shoulder, "Fred, hurry up!"

Fred didn’t need to be told twice. Ignoring the mud mixed with Oliver’s blood, he dropped down on his stomach, trying to wiggle through the hole. It had looked much bigger just two seconds ago. Sirius and Harry grabbed his hands on the other side and pulled, sending Fred shooting out. He tumbled into George, but quickly stood up, grabbing Oliver by the arm. "Come on, let’s go!"

Disregarding the storm up above, the friends ran towards the woods beyond.

*

It was about an hour before dawn when they finally stopped. The woods had grown in thicker around them, masking their trail. Fred would have liked to go on further, but he was near exhaustion. He could tell his friends were, too.

They stopped in a small open space by a stream. Fred intended to stop for only ten minutes, but before ten minutes had gone by, they had all fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Fred woke several hours later by the sound of hoarse coughing. Sitting up, he saw Oliver lying a few feet from him. His side had stopped bleeding, but Fred still thought he looked extremely pale. Careful not to wake the others, he crawled over to Oliver’s side.

"Hey," he said softly. "How’re you feeling?"

Oliver gave a weak smile. He started to say something, but a coughing fit came over him. When he finally stopped hacking, there were flecks of blood on his cheek.

"Not bad," he whispered. "But I don’t think I’ll be able to make the rest of the journey. Fred, I--"

"What are you going on about, Oliver." Fred frowned. "Listen, I’ll wake up Hermione, she’s good with healing charms, and—" Fred was stopped by another of Oliver’s coughing fits.

"No," Oliver muttered. "No, it’s too late for that now. Fred, I wanted to…wanted to thank you for getting me out. I have a feeling…I know you’ll make it. It’s out there somewhere…somewhere…" Fred could barely hear him now, his voice was so faint.

Fred fought back tears. "Oliver, you’ll be fine, just wait a second and—"

Oliver let out a weak laugh. He seemed to be breathing with less difficulty now, although a thin trickle of blood was running from the corner of his mouth. "You can do it, Fred," he whispered hoarsely. "Take care of them…" Fred was about to reply when he saw Oliver’s eyelids close and his face relax. "Oliver?" he whispered. There was no response.

Fred sat in the green glade among the sleeping Characters, shedding silent tears for his lost friend.

***

Chapter 3:

Captain Kruser

The sound of sirens blaring into the night stopped abruptly. Captain Kruser allowed himself a small smile. That could only mean one thing; the escaping Characters had been captured.

The captain poured himself a large glass of brandy, not bothering to turn the lights on in his office. He had been seriously worried for a moment there. The sirens had gone on for so long…but his Guards hadn’t failed him. They rarely did.

He sat down heavily in the leather chair behind his polished teak desk. Slowly rubbing his temples, he stared at the moonlight streaming across the dark room. What a night. There weren’t often attempted escapes at the Corporation. The Characters were generally too crushed for that sort of thing. But when they did make a break for freedom…it always made him anxious. If one, just one of the Characters escaped…it would mean trouble. How could She write about them, if they weren’t in Her storybook land anymore? No, best to keep the Characters oppressed and not have to worry about things like that.

A timid knock sounded on his office door. Kruser scowled. He hated nervousness; it was a sign of weakness, and weakness led to awful things—revolts, revolutions, power to the masses. He waited until the second knock came, this one with a little more confidence, before barking out his consent to enter.

A Guard stood in the doorway, looking like a dirty shadow in the unlit office. Kruser looked up at him, raising a heavy eyebrow. "Well?"

The Guard gave a small shudder. He couldn’t help it. Just the sound of the captain’s dark, rasping voice made him feel as if his blood were freezing in his arteries. He quickly pulled himself together as he noticed Kruser’s black eyes studying his face. "Sir," he began. "Captain Kruser, sir, there’s been an—well, you heard the sirens, of course, sir, and—"

"I did hear the sirens," came the captain’s low voice. "They lasted for several minutes. I expect quicker responses from my Guards, should this happen again. Now, tell me, which Characters tried to escape? They will be dealt with justly."

Even from where he was sitting, Kruser could hear the Guard’s stifled sob. Cursing inwardly, the captain stood and faced the window, showing his back to the Guard. When the Guard still didn’t reply, he added, "I’m waiting."

"Sir." The tremble was evident in the unfortunate man’s voice. "Sir, they succeeded in escaping. They were already out the window before a Guard noticed, sir. They somehow got a hold of a pair of wire-clippers, and made it through the fence. They were heading west." The Guard waited anxiously for Kruser’s response to this upsetting news.

There was a pregnant pause. Finally, Kruser muttered quietly, "And you did not give chase?"

The Guard seemed shocked. "No, sir! We know your orders about going through the west fence, sir, we know it’s forbidden. We didn’t want to—"

"Fools," cut in Kruser, his voice a soft menace. After a moment’s silence, he added, in a somewhat calmer voice. "How many escaped?"

The Guard gulped. "Ten, sir. Although one was shot in the side before going through the fence."

The Captain’s eyes narrowed. "Ten?" No reply came from the Guard. With a mental sigh, Kruser added. "Who?"

He could practically feel the anxiety seeping from the Guard. Kruser turned slightly, staring the Guard directly in the eye. "Who were the Characters that escaped?" he said in a loud voice.

The Guard was fidgeting now, but he answered the question. "Thirty-two, Thirty-three, One hundred seven, Seventy-eight, Sixty-five, Forty-eight—we think he was the one shot, sir—Eleven, Three, Two, and…" Kruser viewed the fear mounting in the Guard’s eyes. When the Guard spoke, it was in a very tight voice. "Number One, sir."

Before the Guard could blink, Kruser bounded across the room and grabbed his shirt collar, lifting him off the ground. "What?" he snarled into the Guard’s face.

The Guard’s whole body was trembling now. "Number One, sir," he squeaked. He fell to the ground as Kruser released his grip.

"Fools!" he cursed. "You’ll all be damned to purgatory for this." His brain was working furiously. Number One. The most important Character in Her books. Plus ten others…they didn’t matter as much, but it would be best to have them back, too. And they had to get Number One back. At all costs. There was only one way to deal with this. He didn’t like it, but it had to be done.

"Follow them," he snarled quietly, his cold, ebony eyes alight with passion.

"Wha—but sir, they headed west! If we follow—"

"Don’t you see?" Kruser interrupted, his voice threateningly soft. "If we don’t get Number One back, it’s all over! You must recapture them before they go too far." He gave one last contemptuous glance at the Guard on the floor. "Get out," he muttered, turning away.

The Guard scrambled to his feet and made a swift movement towards the door before he heard his captain speak again. "One more thing…"

The Guard turned. Kruser was back at the window, holding the brandy in his hand and gazing at the moon in the starry sky. The Guard stared at the back of his head, waiting for him to speak.

"Don’t fail me this time."

Chapter 4:

The Girl in the Glade

By the time the Characters woke, the sun was shining brilliantly, drying the rain from the night’s storm. But the Characters didn’t seem to notice at all. Each and every one of them was equally saddened by Oliver’s death. He had been a good person. He deserved a chance. But, as they had learned, life didn’t give many chances.

Sirius and Harry dug a deep trench under a towering oak, and George and Remus gently placed Oliver’s bloodstained body inside. Hermione turned away as they filled in the grave; that was Oliver in there…they were covering Oliver with rocks and dirt…

The friends stood for several minutes around Oliver’s freshly dug grave. No one spoke. There wasn’t really anything to say. Fred felt it would be appropriate to speak a few words, something about Oliver, something to comfort the others. But he couldn’t bring himself to it. With a shuddering sigh, he nodded at George, who helped him gather the others and encourage them to start walking.

As they were leaving the clearing, Fred took one glance back. There was the mound of dirt, marking the spot where his friend lay. A burning hate grew inside Fred. The Corporation did this. He couldn’t let it happen again.

His eyes bright, he turned away from the clearing, whispering under his breath, "I’ll take care of them, Oliver. We’ll find it."

*

"Didn’t we already pass this tree?" Ron placed his hand on a battered and scarred evergreen. "I remember this knot. It looks like a nose…and there’s the eyes, and that’s the mouth." He peered at the tree, wrinkling his nose up. "I think it’s making faces at me."

Fleur sighed impatiently. "Of course zee tree is not making faces at you. Do not be so dense!"

Fred tuned out the sound of Ron and Fleur’s bickering. Ron was right about one thing. They had passed that tree before. Fred wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but they were lost. He had lost all his senses of direction during the wild sprint through the storm. Whichever way west was, he sure as hell didn’t know.

To make things worse, his friends were growing restless. They had escaped almost twenty-four hours ago, and during that time they had had little to drink and no food. And Draco wasn’t helping matters either.

"What’s wrong, Fred," he drawled, causing Ron and Fleur to stop tormenting each other. "Got us lost, have you? I shouldn’t be surprised if we end up starving out here…" his voice trailed off as he nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders.

Fred rolled his eyes. "We’re not lost. We’re just having technical difficulties."

Draco sneered. "Oh, is that what you call it? Well, I think we should—"

"No one asked you, Draco," cut in George. "Just keep your mouth shut."

Draco’s face turned pink and he made a lunge towards George, only to be caught in midair by Sirius’ outstretched arm.

"Nice catch," Remus said quietly.

"Would you all stop this?" hissed Hermione. "It isn’t helping our situation."

Ron was about to reply to Hermione’s comment when they all heard a quiet chuckle. They fell silent, looking around the forest with wide eyes.

Harry looked over at Fred and whispered. "What was that?"

Fred shrugged and caught George’s eye. George sighed, cleared his throat and said in a loud voice, "All right, now, we know you’re there, so come show yourself."

Ron stifled a laugh. "Like that’s really gonna work, George."

George opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a person stepped out from behind a huge oak tree. George shut his mouth and shot a look over at Ron that screamed I-told-you-so.

Fred peered at the stranger doubtfully. Her brown hair was tied back in a braid, and her green eyes danced with amusement. She was dressed plainly in a modest green dress. She looked over the group of Characters with a skeptical eye.

"You wanted to see me?" Her voice was deep, and she glanced over at George as she spoke. "Well, here I am. Who are you?"

Fred exchanged a brief look with George before saying, "Travelers. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name."

The girl smiled impishly. "I didn’t tell it, and you don’t need to know it. Travelers from where?"

Harry snorted. "You don’t need to know that."

The girl laughed. "Fair enough, sir." Her eyes scanned the companions. "You look to me as if you are in need of some nourishment. I could provide that for you, if you would wish to accompany me."

Fred looked around his group of friends, unsure whether he should trust this strange person. After a moment, he said, "Thank you for your offer, but I think we’ll all right, so—" He was cut off by a loud growl from Ron’s stomach.

The stranger grinned. "I won’t poison the food. Trust me." Draco snorted at this comment, and the girl gave him a piercing look.

Fred glanced over at Ron and shrugged. "All right. We’ll come with you."

A grin quickly grew on the girl’s face. "Follow me."

*

Fred hadn’t realized how hungry he was. The fare the girl presented to them was simple; it could barely be called a meal. Yet Fred ate it greedily, savoring every bite. Looking around at his companions, he could tell they felt the same. He tried not to laugh as he glanced over at Fleur. She seemed unaware of the fact that she had a sliver of meat clinging to her cheek.

Fred’s musings were interrupted by a low cough. He glanced over at their hostess and found her green stare turned on him. "Now," she said. "I’ve fed and watered you. Tell me about yourselves. Where do you come from?"

Fred glanced over at Sirius, silently asking for guidance. Sirius caught on quickly and replied to the girl’s question. "I’m sorry, miss, but we still don’t even know your name, or even really where we are. How can we trust you with our information, when you don’t trust us with yours?"

The girl smiled, still looking at Fred. "Your friend is wise. Very well, I’ll tell you a little of what you wish to know. My name is Kiara, and you are in the Mirkwood. But surely you knew that." She could tell by her guest’s blank faces that they didn’t. A slight frown creased her face. "You must be from a far off land to not at least have heard of Mirkwood."

Something jingled in the back of Harry’s mind, but he kept quiet.

Remus shook his head. "Never heard of the place. But you are right about one thing, we’re not from…around here…"

Fred heard Hermione snort on his right side. "Oh, this is ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "Why don’t we just tell her the truth? She’s already had plenty of opportunities to harm us, so she obviously isn’t going to. Just tell her!" She crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest, glaring at each of her friends in turn.

George laughed at Hermione’s antics. "You know, Fred, I believe she’s right. Would you care to start?"

Fred frowned at his brother but simply said, "Fine." Turning to Kiara, he added. "This is going to sound very odd…"

It was quite a while before Fred finished his story. During the first ten minutes of the tale, he kept being interrupted by the other Characters. Ron and Draco were especially frequent in their interjections. Finally he simply commanded them all to be silent, threatening disembowelment if they didn’t remain quiet. His threat acquired several snickers of amusement, but from then on the interruptions were much less frequent.

Kiara remained silent for several moments after the story ended. Fred glanced at her apprehensively. "Well? Do you believe us?"

She slowly nodded her head. "Yes. I do, even though it does sound very queer." Glancing around at the Characters, she said quietly, "My cousin simply vanished for several months, but when he returned he had a story similar to yours. We all thought he was mad."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Had?"

Kiara chuckled without amusement. "Yes. Had. After his return, he simply wasted away. He had the most haunted look in his eyes…" she fell back into silence.

George exchanged a meaningful look with his twin. "Kiara, do you know anything about your cousin’s disappearance? What did he tell you?"

She smiled gently. "Oh, he told everyone. How he ‘journeyed west, to find the land of truth’. That’s what he said, at least. Said he traveled through many exotic lands before ‘they’ got him. We could never figure out who ‘they’ were…"

Fred’s eyes widened in alarm. He looked at George and saw the same emotion in his eyes. ‘They’ could only mean one thing: the Corporation.

"Kiara," he turned quickly to the girl sitting next to him. "I think we know who ‘they’ are. And they’re bad. Very bad. We’re going to have to leave, and soon." He glanced over at his friends before continuing. "Come with us. We need your knowledge, what your cousin told you. Otherwise we don’t have a chance."

Kiara laughed. "What, and end up like my cousin? You must be mad."

Harry reached over and placed his hand on Kiara’s. "Please," he said quietly.

Kiara held Harry’s gaze for a moment before taking her hand away. "I will think on it." She stood suddenly. "Stay the night here, at least. You seem in need of the rest." She looked at Fred. "I will give you my answer in the morning." With that, she walked off, disappearing into the trees.

*

Fred lay on the ground, gazing at the stars. His friends snores echoed in the silent night. Once again, he was unable to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about what they had learned. They needed Kiara to come with them…her information could prove invaluable…

"Fred?"

Fred jumped slightly at the whisper. "Yeah?"

He saw a silhouette sit up. "I hoped you were awake." Fred recognized the voice as Harry’s. He smiled softly and asked, "What’s up, Harry?"

Harry crawled over closer to Fred, lowering his voice so as not to waken the others. "Fred, you remember what Kiara said? She said we were in Mirkwood. Ring any bells?"

Fred shrugged. "Can’t say it does."

Harry snorted. "Oh, Fred, didn’t you read any books at the Corporation?"

Fred stifled a laugh. "Of course not. I was too busy moping."

Harry sighed. "Well, Mirkwood was a forest in a book by JRR Tolkien, a fantasy book. Mirkwood wasn’t supposed to exist."

Fred turned slightly to see Harry’s face. "Ok. What are you getting at?"

Harry’s voice became slightly more urgent. "Don’t you see, Fred? We’ve entered another one of those worlds! Another world like Her world…"

Realization dawned on Fred. "Another world like Hers? How can there be more—"

"Of course there’s more! She’s not the only Author, you know."

Fred felt his chest tightened. "And Kiara said her cousin went through ‘many exotic lands’…you don’t think those were—"

"Other Authors’ worlds? Yes, I do." Fred heard Harry sigh. "Fred, this little trip of ours could take longer than expected."

Fred turned his eyes back to the heavens. "Harry, I think you’re right…"

***

Chapter 5:

Lenore

Captain Kruser’s steel-tipped boots created intense vibrations as he marched down the dimly lit hallway. No one ever came back here, save for a lone Guard three times a day. And the only reason the Guard ever came was to place a tray of food outside the dark door at the end of the passageway. Kruser looked at the bare walls as he walked past. Only one Character resided in this part of the Corporation. The only Character Kruser felt any sort of respect towards.

It had been two days since the ten Characters had escaped, and they were still on the loose. His Guards had reported finding a mound of dirt, presumably Number Forty-eight’s resting-place. There had been a pool of blood at the scene; there was no way the Character could have survived. The loss of a Character had hit Kruser hard; his job was to make sure all the Characters were there for Her. Kruser had decided it was time to come talk to Character Number Six.

Finally reaching the end of the long corridor, Kruser turned and faced the door. A small plaque hung on it, reading "Six". This room was always reserved for him.

Kruser reached up and knocked confidently on the door. No response came, but Kruser still waited. He was in there, all he had to do was wait…

"Enter."

Kruser smiled to himself. So predictable.

He opened the door to find himself in a large room, just the way he remembered it. The only source of light was several glowing embers in the fireplace. From the dim light, the room seemed to be very extravagant. Plush velvet covered chairs sat around the fireplace, and a small bed with satin sheets sat in a corner. The two large windows had heavy purple drapes cascading down them, creating an atmosphere of luxury. Kruser knew from experience, however, that the room was not all that it seemed. By daylight, it was obvious that it was past its glory days; the curtains stained, the chairs about to fall apart. But still, it was the best room any Character had ever seen, and probably ever would see. Kruser felt that Number Six deserved such treatment.

"I expected you to come." The voice was high pitched and slightly eerie, as if the speaker were not wholly human. Although he could not see the speaker, Kruser knew him to be sitting in the high back chair facing the fire. Smiling, the captain stepped forward and sat down in the chair opposite, facing Number Six.

Strange red eyes regarded Kruser from a pale face. The narrowed nostrils of the Character trembled visibly whenever he took his ragged breaths. Kruser always considered it a shame what She had done to this Character of Hers. He had an ingenious brain—yet she put him in this weak and feeble body; something was wrong with that.

The man peered at Captain Kruser with his blood red eyes. "I heard the sirens the other night," he whispered, turning his face to look into the dying embers of the fire. "Her Characters have escaped, have they not?"

Kruser smiled coldly at the Character. "Lord Voldemort, it is surprising how much you know, living in this chamber of yours."

A hiss of laughter escaped Voldemort’s tight lips. "I have my ways. Although it is impossible to hear all." Settling back in his chair, he folded his fingers neatly. "Tell me. What has happened?"

Smiling inwardly, Kruser explained to Voldemort about the Character’s escape. He fell silent after finishing his tale, looking intently at the man sitting opposite him. Voldemort had not taken his eyes away from the fire. Kruser was beginning to wonder if he should speak when Voldemort whispered, "So now you wish to ask me some questions, do you not?"

Kruser chuckled dryly. "Indeed, I do." He leaned forward in his chair. "You know more of Her world than I. I am simply the man who keeps track of Her Characters when they’re not in use; I need your knowledge of the world She has created."

Voldemort raised his eyes from the fire. "What knowledge do you seek, Captain?"

His eyes narrowing slightly, Kruser continued. "My Guards have already killed one of the Characters. I suspect that before they recapture them there will be more dead. Won’t this…disturb Her world? They won’t be there for Her to write about, if they’re dead…" His voice trailed off as he shrugged, peering at Voldemort.

Voldemort gave a quiet laugh. "Ah, my poor, ignorant Kruser. You know so little." He placed one of this bony hands on the arm of the chair, softly stroking the velvet. Kruser had to strain his ears to hear his words. "What happens when a person dies in the real world, Captain? You know as well as I. Their body decays, but their memory stays. Their friends and family can still talk about the person, even if they cannot directly interact with them anymore. So it is in Her world. If a Character dies here at the Corporation, She can’t have him interact with any of the other Characters anymore. But, She can still refer to him. Other Characters can still talk about him. They just can’t talk with him. Of course, She doesn’t realize any of this. Perhaps She just thinks She has ‘writer’s block’ for that particular Character…She doesn’t realize the truth." Voldemort became silent, still stroking the armrest. "Anything else I can ease your mind about, Captain?"

The captain paused for a moment before saying, "What would my best course of action be, then?"

Voldemort smiled. "By all means, recapture Number One. Harry Potter. Star of Her stories. She can’t simply make references to him." Voldemort paused, his smile growing. "As for the others…I wouldn’t worry too much about getting them back alive. If you can, do so. But if not…do not lose sleep over it."

Kruser nodded, rising from his chair. "I thank you, Lord Voldemort. Our conversation has been most enlightening." He stuck out his hand towards Voldemort, who did not accept it. Voldemort turned his face towards Kruser, a hungry light in his eyes.

"I have answered your questions, Captain. I did not have to. If you do succeed in capturing the Characters, return me the favor. Let me leave this accursed place." His voice had a pleading edge to it.

Kruser laughed harshly. "What? Let Number Six escape? I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that. After all, you are Her villain. She can’t just make references about you, either." Kruser smiled coldly. "I bid you a good evening, Lord Voldemort." Giving Voldemort one last look, Kruser turned and walked out the door, locking it securely behind him.

Voldemort turned his eyes back towards the now dead embers, his throat constricting painfully. So close…so close…

He heard a slithering sound near his feet. Looking down, Voldemort smiled. "Ah, my little Nagini…perhaps soon you will get to savor the taste of rotting flesh. You would like that, would you not, Nagini?" Darkness closed in around the room, leaving Number Six to hiss quietly at the snake curled about his feet.

*

Green sunlight slid through the boughs of the old trees, shining directly into Fred’s squinting eyes. He would have liked to sleep longer. Much longer. But the sun obviously had plans for the day, and would not permit anyone to catch up on much needed rest.

Fred slowly sat up, scratching his head. Glancing around through half open eyes, he saw Hermione looking at him. She smiled. "Good morning!"

Fred grinned and returned the greeting. "Morning. Where is everyone?"

Hermione’s head jerked to the right. "There’s a little stream down there. They’re washing up. I already finished…you’re the last one up."

Fred slowly stood up. "Ugh. Sure wish I wasn’t up yet." He glanced around the clearing. "Any sign of our hostess on this fine morning?"

Hermione shook her head. "Haven’t seen her. But my guess would be she’s probably around."

Fred was about to reply when a loud commotion stopped him. Turning, he saw the others returning from the stream, looking refreshed and happy. Ron and Harry were bickering amiably about something, with Sirius putting in little remarks every now and then. George smiled at his twin. "Well, well, well! Look who finally decided to wake up."

Fred laughed. "I didn’t decide to. It just happened."

"I’m glad it happened. I’m ready to leave."

Fred whisked around to see who had spoken to him. Kiara stood there with a small bag over her shoulders, and more in her clenched fists. "You will be wanting these," she added, nodding at the extra bags.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So you’re coming with us, then?"

Kiara nodded swiftly, glancing over at Harry. "Yes. My cousin would have wanted it."

Fred beamed at her. "Splendid! Shall we get started, then?"

"Yes, let’s." Fred was surprised as Fleur bent down and picked up on of the bags. She raised a shapely eyebrow at the questioning look on Fred’s face. "What? You zeenk I want to stay in zeese woods any longer? No, zank you. I would much prefer to be somewhere saneetary." She flicked her head, forcing her golden hair out of her eyes.

Remus, still looking somewhat puzzled, shrugged his shoulders. "Great. Let’s go, then." Picking up his bag, he looked expectantly at Kiara. "You’ll lead?"

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose I shall. Although I must warn you I am not sure of where we are headed…"

Ron shrugged. "Hey, neither are we. But that’s ok." He flashed a grin.

Fred shook his head at his younger brother. "Well, we have some idea. We were heading west…" he trailed off.

Kiara blinked. "Very well, then. We are in agreement; I would have gone that way too. Follow me closely." Without a backward glance, she headed off into the woods.

Fred and George exchanged a glance. George smiled. "I think we may have gotten ourselves into more than we bargained for, Number Thirty-two."

*

"Oh, my aching feet. I don’t think they’ve hurt this much since…well, ever. Isn’t there some disease where your feet fall off from too much use? Footinsitus or something like that? Well, I think I’ve caught it…."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron’s speech. "No, Ron, there is no such thing as ‘Footinsitus’. We’re all tired, but your complaining isn’t helping us." Ron gave her an evil stare but remained silent.

Fred tried not to laugh at Ron’s antics. It wouldn’t do to encourage him. Kiara had marched them through the woods all day, with only a short stop for lunch. With night falling, he knew his friends were getting tired and irritable. Best not to start anything.

Fred was jarred back to the present by Draco’s next comment. "Oh, I don’t know, Weasley. Your feet might just fall off because of their size. They’re so big, there’s not much to support them, you know."

George shouted as he grabbed the back of Ron’s collar, preventing him from lounging at Draco. "Hey! Enough of that, both of you."

Remus looked at Draco reproachfully. "You really shouldn’t do that, Draco. We won’t be able to protect you every time you say something stupid."

Draco’s face snarled up. "I don’t need your protection, you nasty—"

"Look."

Kiara’s voice cut through the argument. The Characters looked towards where she was pointing. There, on top of small hill, stood an old house. It was completely dark, save for the one light shining through a third-story window.

Fred glanced over at Kiara. "You ever seen this place before?"

Kiara shook her head. "I think we are out of Mirkwood now."

Harry broke the awkward silence that followed this comment. "Well, I don’t know about Ron, but my feet could use a break. Looks like there’s someone home up there." He nodded at the light on in the house. "Should we go up there?"

Fred and George exchanged a quick glance before Fred shrugged. "I don’t see why not. It’s bound to be warmer inside."

The ten friends soon found themselves at the door of the old house and were able to inspect it. It looked more like a mansion than a regular house, although any glory it might have had was long gone. Now it just looked like a dilapidated old building.

Fred tore his eyes from studying the house and knocked on the door. No reply came. After knocking several more times, Fred turned to his friends. "Well? What now?"

Sirius snorted. "I’m not going to let a stupid door stop me from getting shelter for the night." He strode forward and starting pounding on the door, shouting threats all the while.

Remus sighed. "Sirius, I think I have a much easier way of entering."

"Yes?" Sirius proclaimed. "And what might that be?"

Remus reached forward and turned the handle. The door opened with a small creak.

Remus smiled at the expression on Sirius’ face. "I noticed the door did not appear to be locked."

George laughed and slapped Remus on the back. "Well done! What are we waiting for?" He led his friends into the dark house.

The inside was just as neglected as the outside. Dust clung to everything, muffling their footsteps. Kiara pointed to the stairs leading up. "The light appeared to be on the third floor. Should we try to find our host?"

The Characters agreed to this idea and began climbing the steps.

The third floor was barely even a landing; it consisted solely of a long, dark hallway with a single door at the end. Light spilled out from under the doorframe. Harry glanced over at Fred. "Well, I suppose this is where our host is."

Fred nodded and, squaring his shoulders slightly, tapped on the door. Immediately, they heard stirring on the other side of the door. Fred glanced quickly back at his friends and was about to say something when the door swung open.

A man stood there with graying hair. His scarlet dressing robe was wrapped tightly about him, and he stared at them with startled eyes.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You’re here…" his voice trailed off as he looked beyond the group of people standing in front of him. He seemed to deflate slightly before turning back to Fred. "I have heard tapping before…have you been hiding all this time?"

Fred exchanged a look with George. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Before Fred could think of a reply to this comment, Kiara began speaking. "Pardon us, good sir, but we are merely travelers seeking shelter. The night does grow cold."

The man looked surprised, then said, "Of course, of course…well, come in, come in." He stood back and waved towards the room, allowing the Characters to walk in.

Fred was taken aback by the room. It was in direct contrast with the rest of the house. The plush furnishings showed no sign of aging, and light filled the room. Books piled up on tables, some of them open to random pages.

The man chuckled, seeing Fred’s eyes wandering over the books. "Just catching up on some forgotten lore. We have quite a lot of time on our hands these days, without her…"

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron before asking, "I’m sorry, maybe I missed something. Who is ‘her’?"

A distant look came into the man’s haunted eyes. "Her. Oh, all the beauty in the world could not amount to her worth. But alas, she is gone, and I shall gaze upon her angelic face—"

"Nevermore."

Hermione gave a small squeak and jumped back, her eyes on the top of the doorframe. Fred followed her gaze and saw a large raven. The ebony bird was perched on top of a large white bust, and its intelligent eyes sparkled in the firelight.

The old man cackled. "Oh, how silly of me. I haven’t introduced you. Please, meet my dear friend and companion."

The friends were speechless. Fred looked at Kiara and George, a questioning look in his eyes. To his dismay, they looked just as lost as he was.

The man frowned at his guests’ silence. "Perhaps you do not like my friend?" He looked up at the bird. "Tell me, do you think our new friends will ever come back to us?"

The bird’s eyes glinted as it croaked out, "Nevermore."

The man giggled like a little child. "Oh, a wise old thing you are, friend. No, I believe you’re right." He placed a piercing gaze on the ten friends. "They will never come back to us, just like her…"

Fred was thoroughly alarmed by now. Clearly the man wasn’t in his right mind. The best thing to do would be to leave. One look at his friends confirmed his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he began to speak. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir, but I think we should be on our way—"

But the man wasn’t listening. His eyes were trained on Fleur. Fred saw his face pale visibly and heard the word whispered from his cracked lips. "Lenore…"

Hermione shook her head kindly. "I’m sorry, sir, but you must be mistaken. This isn’t—"

"Lenore!" The man shouted, making a grab at Fleur. "Lenore! I knew it was you, you couldn’t really be dead—oh, Lenore!"

Fleur, looking terrified, had retreated from the man and thrown herself behind Draco. "Stay away from me!" Panic-stricken, she looked at Fred. "Please, do something!"

He acted quickly. With one hard shove he sent the man flying back from Fleur. Grabbing her arm roughly, Fred headed towards the door, yelling over his shoulder. "Come on!"

His friends caught on quickly. Soon they were out of the house and running down the hill. Even as they were fleeing, they could still hear the man’s desperate cries.

"Lenore! Come back! For heaven’s sake, don’t leave me again—oh, Lenore…"

***

Chapter 6:

 Royal Immunity

"Twenty-nine bottles of beer on the wall, twenty-nine bottles of beer…take one down, pass it around, twenty-eight bottles of beer on the wall…"

Fred could never remember being so tired in all of his short life. Even after escaping from the Corporation, he had not been this tired. Then he had been pumped up on adrenaline. Now, it seemed the only thing keeping him going was an annoying voice inside his brain that sounded suspiciously like his mother in the middle of one of her tirades.

And Sirius’ rendition of "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall" wasn’t helping matters either.

Glancing around at his companions, Fred was pretty sure they felt the same way. They had been on the move all night, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the dilapidated house with the crazy man inside.

Fred heard someone stumble behind him, and turned to see Ron helping Hermione to her feet. He gave a mental sigh. Over the course of the night, they had passed along a trail at the edge of a mountain range. The going had been tough, and almost all of them had some sort of scrape or bruise to show for it.

They had exited the mountain range to find themselves in a forest. Unlike the one they had found Kiara in, this forest seemed brighter; the birch and beech trees weren’t as close together, and early morning sunlight danced merrily through them. If they hadn’t been so exhausted, they might have actually enjoyed walking through the cheerful wood.

"We’ve got to stop, Fred."

Fred glanced over his shoulder to find George walking next to him, his furrowed brow partially hiding the weariness written on his face.

Fred gave his twin an irritated look. "Oh? And where do you suggest we stop, George?"

George’s eyes darkened momentarily. After a brief moment, he sighed and his eyes returned to their normal brown state. "Look, Fred, we’re all tired. Let’s not start arguing. All I’m saying is we can’t go on at this rate for much longer…"

Fred took a deep breath. "I know. Sorry. It’s just I don’t see how—"

"Stop!"

Fred jumped, completely startled. They had entered a small clearing in the forest. Fred had been so engrossed with his conversation with George that he had not noticed the three men on horseback standing at the edge of the clearing.

Within a matter of seconds, the rest of the Characters had entered the clearing. Their reactions to the horsemen were varied. Fleur gave a small gasp, while Sirius, Remus, and Harry immediately placed a hand on their wands. Ron placed a protective arm around Hermione. Kiara glared defiantly, while Draco gave a small, undignified squeak.

Fred surveyed the men closely. All three of them wore vibrant orange tunics, which stood out against their chestnut colored horses. The man standing in the middle seemed to be the leader of the small group, and although no smile was on his face, his light eyes seemed to twinkle merrily.

Fred swallowed a lump forming in his throat and stepped forward. He was suddenly very aware of the contrast between his own tattered clothes and the rich clothes of the men before him. Pushing such thoughts out of his head, he tilted his chin up to look at the men.

"Good morning! I hate to sound rude, but would you mind moving your horses to one side, so my friends and I can pass by?" He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

The man in the center glanced over his shoulders at his companions, a faint smile playing on his lips. Returning his attention to Fred, he asked, "Where do you come from, friends? Surely, your clothing tells that you are from some distant land. Have you journeyed far?"

Fred nodded his head warily. "Yes, we have traveled quite a ways." Anxious to change topics, he gestured at the trees surrounding them. "Would you mind telling us where we are?"

The men looked startled. "Why, you are in the country of Narnia, my good man! Surely you were aware of this?"

Fred shrugged. "As I said before, we’ve traveled far."

The man’s eyes wandered over the ten companions. "It seems that is true. We could offer you some accommodations, if you wish them."

Fred looked at his friends. He wasn’t entirely sure if they should trust the seemingly harmless strangers. After all, the last person to offer them hospitality had turned out to be a nutcase. Yet, looking at his friend’s exhausted faces, he knew they didn’t have a choice. One meaningful glance from George confirmed his thoughts.

"Yes," he said. "We’d very much appreciate your help."

The man smiled. "Good! Follow us, then. We’ll lead our horses at a slow pace, so you will be able to follow with ease." Fred very much appreciated the man’s last comment. The way he was feeling at the moment, he didn’t think he’d be able to keep up with a galloping horse.

The men on horseback led them through the woods, over hidden trails that Fred knew he would never have been able to find on his own. After about an hour of traipsing through the green woods, the trees cleared, and the Characters found themselves facing a luminous sea.

"Welcome," said one of the men, "to Cair Paravel." Fred heard Hermione give a small gasp of wonderment, and turned to see what she was looking at.

Directly in front of them lay a gorgeous castle. It’s white walls, reflecting the sea in front of them, sparkled in the midday sun. The many towers had waving flags at their points. Fred personally felt it looked like something out of a fairy tale book.

He didn’t have much time to muse on this however, for the men had gotten off their horses and were leading the friends into the castle.

Upon entering, they found themselves in a grand state room. Maps hung on the walls, as well as portraits of important looking people. Warm sunlight slid in through open windows, basking the room in a golden glow.

Fred heard footsteps coming towards the room. Exchanging a small glance with George, he turned towards the open doorway.

A young man entered. He appeared to be around Fred’s age, although unlike Fred, there were no lines of worry on this man’s face. He was dressed in a brilliantly white tunic and leggings, with a dark green sash across his broad shoulders. His bright face shone with excitement as he tossed blonde hair out of his eager eyes. Smiling widely, he opened his arms towards the guests.

"Welcome!" he nearly shouted. "Welcome to Cair Paravel. I am King Caspian VIII, ruler of Narnia, and master of this good castle. Please, make yourselves at home while you are here." He went around to greet each of the newcomers personally. When he reached Fleur, he paused. A surprised look appeared in his blue eyes, and he reached for her hand. "Such beauty has rarely been seen in our court. You are most welcome here, lady." Fleur gave a white toothed smile in return, and allowed the King to kiss her long fingers.

The young King returned his attention to the whole group. "Very well," he stated, "enough of formalities. My servants will show you to rooms. I hope they will be to your liking. Feel free to rest the whole day. But tonight, I do request you attend our dinner and ball." His smile spread wider on his face. "We are celebrating my youngest brother’s 17^th birthday tonight."

The Characters muttered a quick agreement and were led off to various rooms. Fred got a quick glimpse of the splendid surroundings in his chamber before dropping off into a dreamless sleep on the plush bed.

*

Fred woke several hours later. At first, he was not sure what had woken him up. After several seconds of listening, he decided it had to be the tapping noise echoing around the room. Sitting up slowly, he stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Blinking several times, he looked to where the noise was coming from and almost screamed.

A small person was standing there, laying out clothes on a chair. But it couldn’t be a person, maybe it was an animal? Fred had never seen anything like it before. The creature had goat legs and a human torso, with dark tufts of fur protruding from its long ears. Whatever the thing was, it definitely freaked Fred out. It must have heard Fred stirring, because it turned towards him with a smile. "Good afternoon, sir. I assume you slept well?"

Fred was at a loss for words.

The creature chuckled. "I’ll take that as an affirmative response. I have lain out some clothes for you, sir, for the dinner tonight. A bath is ready in the next room for you, too."

In his mind the question didn’t sound so rude, but out loud Fred decided he definitely could have phrased it better. "What are you?"

The creature continued laying out clothes without taking his beady eyes off of Fred. "I am a satyr, sir. His Majesty said you were from a faraway land, but I did not know it was so far that you would not know what a satyr is." Fred continued to stare.

The creature finished laying out the fine clothes and turned towards the door. "If you need anything, sir, don’t hesitate to call. Dinner is in an hour. His Majesty expects you and your companions to be there." With that, he left the room. Fred could hear his small hooves clicking down the hallway.

*

Fred exited his room, feeling remarkably foolish. He had somehow managed to get into the finery without ripping it, but it was his personal opinion that he looked like some sort of exotic emu. A very ugly exotic emu. But the satyr had basically said, "Put these on and come down to dinner or else." Fred had decided that looking like a bird for one evening was better than the alternative, whatever that may be.

He was just wondering where in the world the dining hall was when he heard a small cry from behind him. "Hullo! Fred, wait up!"

Turning, Fred saw Harry and Ron racing towards him, wearing the same sort of apparel he was decked in. He tried not to laugh at the site of them.

Ron was the first to reach him. Panting slightly, he exclaimed, "Whew! This place is a maze! Harry and I have been wandering around for half an hour at least, and we still haven’t found this stupid ball thing."

Fred heard Harry mutter, "More like ten minutes."

Fred shook his head at his little brother. "All right, then. Come with me. Your older, wiser brother shall find the dining hall for you." Avoiding a swat from Ron, Fred started walking again.

Five minutes later, the three men had entered the dining hall. It was a splendid room, with long windows lining it to let in the late afternoon sunlight. A magnificent chandelier hanging high above the tall oak chairs caught the sunlight and threw it in dazzling patterns onto the marble floor below. People wandered lazily around the room, waiting for the feast to begin. The long tables, covered with pale green tablecloths, were being laid with all sorts of delectable food. Fred felt his mouth start to water at the delicious aromas wafting towards him.

"Oh good, you made it!"

Fred, Ron, and Harry all turned to see three figure rushing towards them. Hermione and Fleur had been arrayed in dazzling white dresses that glimmered in the light. Out of the corner of his eye, Fred could see Ron’s mouth hanging open slightly. Sirius was slightly behind them, looking extremely put-out in his crimson outfit.

Hermione and Fleur had begun a long dialogue along the lines of "confusing corridors" and "wonderful food". Fred wasn’t exactly listening. A loud bell had sounded, and most of the other people in the room had begun sitting down at the long tables.

"Come on," Sirius muttered. "We’d better find seats." The six of them all sat down at a long table facing the King’s seat. The King, looking extremely cheerful, began a speech, which was interrupted halfway through by the arrival of Remus, George, and Draco, all looking decidedly sour. The King, however, didn’t seem to mind their late arrival, and continued on with his speech. Fred assumed the pale haired youth sitting next to him was his younger brother, as the King kept gesticulating towards him. Fred tried to listen, but the delicious aromas moving towards him were more than enough to take his mind off the speech.

Finally, after what seemed an intolerable length of time, the King sat down and they were allowed to eat. Fred tried to pace himself, but found it difficult. How long had it been since he had eaten a real meal? Way too long for his liking. From the corner of his eyes, he could see his friends doing about the same thing as him; shoveling as much food into their mouths as was humanly possible.

Several hours later, the heavy tables were forced back to the sides of the room and musicians were brought in. Fred mentally slapped himself. How could he forget? This thing included a ball. All those times in Her books, when he had been made to dance…fearing the thought of being pulled onto the dance floor, he quickly crept to a wall, a safe enough haven as far as he was concerned.

"You do not like the dancing?"

Fred jumped at the voice. Turning, he found the speaker standing right behind him. Moving to stand next to her, Fred replied, "Not particularly."

Kiara had been dressed in the same white gown as Hermione and Fleur. Fred noticed the way the sparkling robes stood out against her dark hair. How had he not noticed this before?

Mentally shaking himself, he turned the question back on her. "Why aren’t you dancing?"

She shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I’m not fond of it either. But it seems your friends are…"

She pointed to the middle of the floor, where Ron and Hermione were slowly swaying to the music. Fred saw Ron whisper something into Hermione’s ear, and heard her laughing. Fred grinned. "Those two finally got it figured out. Trust me, it’s been years in the making."

Kiara laughed. "Perhaps so. But what of your other friend?"

He frowned. "Which one?"

She pointed again. "Fleur."

Fred’s eyes followed her pointing finger to the other side of the dance floor. The King had Fleur in his arms, and the two were animatedly talking while dancing to the merry music. Fleur’s rich laughs echoed across the room.

Fred snorted. "He’d better not get too attached. We aren’t staying here long."

Kiara raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It seems your friends are happy here. Are you not?"

Fred turned to face her, looking into her pale green eyes. "It’s not that. It’s just…well, this isn’t where we’re supposed to be. This place isn’t any more real than…well, than where we came from." He let out a short sigh. "I don’t think we’re totally safe here."

Kiara looked at his lined face. "How do you know this isn’t ‘real’? How do you know this place isn’t the end our journeys?"

He shook his head. "I don’t know. But it isn’t. When we find it…well, this place isn’t it." He looked at her hopefully. "I’m sure that didn’t make much sense," he said, flashing a smile.

She shook her head, chuckling. "No, not much. But perhaps it is because I am so tired." Stifling a yawn, she turned away. "I am going to bed. The sun has set, and there is no longer any excuse for me to linger." She smiled. "I hope to see you in the morning."

Fred returned the smile. "Sure thing. Good night."

*

Fred couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it had something to do with the bright moonlight spilling in through the open window. Or maybe the night breeze. No, that wasn’t it. It was something else. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Getting out of bed, he reached for his own clothes. The jeans and overcoat were by now stained and torn, but they were still more comfortable than the clothes provided by the King. Placing his fedora on his head, he stepped out of the room and began wandering the halls.

The night light threw shadows over the other doors in the corridors. Fred assumed his friends were in those rooms, sleeping peacefully. And why shouldn’t they? They had come so far in so little time, they had every right to be tired.

After half an hour of wanderings, he found himself in a round room. There were charts all over the walls of the night skies, and through an open doorway he could see a balcony with what looked like an old fashioned telescope on it. Fred smiled to himself. Of course, an astronomy tower. Just like the one back at Hogwarts, where George, Lee, and himself had—

Fred shook his head violently. That wasn’t real. It didn’t really happen. To get his mind off of old memories, he walked out onto the balcony. The cold night air made him feel even more awake. He stared at the landscape, wondering if he could see where they had come from. The Corporation. Perhaps from this tall tower, he could spot it.

Something caught his eye. He turned his head to look at it more closely. Had he seen a light? Yes, it was definitely there now. A small pinpoint of light, moving west. Who was carrying the light? Lights couldn’t just move on their own. Walking over to the ancient telescope, Fred placed his eye to it and pointed it towards the light.

A group of men accompanied the light. The figure in front, the one carrying the lantern, seemed to be the one in charge. He was mouthing things at his comrades, who kept nodding in turn. And they were all wearing the same thing. A uniform. In fact, they looked oddly like…

Fred let out a shout, jumping back from the telescope. It couldn’t be. But it was. They were following them, and making good progress.

The Guards.

Fred bolted out of the tower, racing back towards the rooms where he knew his friends were sleeping. He had to rouse them. They had to go, now. If the Guards caught up to them…he didn’t want to think about it.

He burst into the first room he came across. He heard a muffled protest. "Fred, what are you doing? It must be two in the morning…"

Recognizing the voice, Fred started talking. "Harry! Get up, damn it! The Guards, they’re here!"

Harry sat straight up in bed, staring at him. "What?"

Fred started rummaging through the room, throwing Harry’s clothes at him. "Well, not here exactly, but they’re coming. They’re close, Harry! I saw them from a tower. We’ve got to go. Help me get the others."

Harry was already up, throwing clothes over his head. "I’ll get the guys. The girls are in another corridor, the one south of her. Go get them, we’ll meet outside."

Fred nodded swiftly before running towards the girl’s rooms.

Not sure if he was in the right place, he swiftly tapped on the first door he came across. "Hello? Fleur, Hermione? It’s Fred. Wake up!"

He heard a muffled sound from beyond the door, and a second later, Hermione had opened the door and was standing before him. "Fred? What are you doing here?" Seeing the look on his face, she added, "What’s wrong?"

"We’ve got to go, Hermione. The Guards are going to be here soon. I saw them. Get dressed and meet the rest outside, ok?"

Hermione looked frightened, but quickly nodded. "I’ll be fast." She closed the door.

Fred raced to the next room in the corridor. Good ol’ Hermione. He knew she wouldn’t argue. Fleur, on the other hand…

He knocked swiftly on the door. "Fleur! Fleur, open the door!"

The door opened swiftly. Fleur stood there, smiling brightly. When she saw Fred, her face fell. "Oh. It is you. What do you want?"

Trying to ignore the fact that the part-veela in front of him was very scantily clad, Fred said, "Fleur, we’ve got to go. Now. The Guards are coming. Put on your clothes, I’ll wait here and then we’ll go outside and meet the others."

Fleur’s reaction was very different than Hermione’s had been. She stood there, silently staring at Fred. She didn’t make any sign that she had heard him. Growing impatient, Fred added, "Come on, Fleur! We have to hurry! I’m sorry if I interrupted your beauty sleep, but—"

"I’m not coming."

Fred stopped mid-sentence. He stared at her. "What?" he whispered.

Fleur tossed her golden hair behind her shoulder. "I am vairy sorry, Fred, but I am not coming."

Fred stared at her. "What the hell do you mean you’re not coming?" He struggled to keep his voice under control. "Fleur, the Guards are coming. Remember them? Big, hairy men who work for the Corporation. Remember that place, Fleur? We’ve got to go!"

Fleur shook her head. "No, Fred, I am staying ‘ere."

Fred shook his head. "Why, Fleur? There’s nothing here, just go get dressed and—"

"Zee King offered me ‘is ‘and in marriage."

Fred gaped at Fleur for several seconds before saying, "Fleur, I hate to burst your little bubble, but you just met the guy. Besides, you think he can keep you safe? Stop being stupid! Now go get dressed!"

Fleur’s blue eyes darkened. "I zink it is you ‘oo is being stoopid, Fred. He ‘as offered me everything." She smiled haughtily. "I am going to be a queen."

The temper Fred had been working so hard on controlling burst through. "Listen, Fleur, I don’t give a rat’s ass what he offered you. All he wants to do is get you in bed and—"

Fleur reached forward and slapped him. Fred took a step back. She glared icily at him. "I do not care where you go, Fred. Just go. Now."

Fred stared at her. "Fleur, I’m sorry, I lost my temper. I don’t want to leave you, or anyone else, behind. I’ll wait while you get dressed, please just—"

But Fleur was shaking her pretty head. "Good-bye, Fred." She stepped back and closed the door.

Fred stood gaping at the closed door for a moment. Cursing quietly, he turned and bolted away.

*

The rest of the Characters were waiting outside for him. When he ran up, Remus looked behind him and asked, "Where’s Fleur? Everyone else is here."

Fred shook his head, panting. "She’s not coming."

A murmuring swept through the group. George looked at Fred. "What do you mean?"

Fred struggled to catch his breath. "That’s exactly what I mean. She’s not coming." He glanced over his shoulder. "We have to get going."

George looked around. "But Fred, don’t you think—"

"She’s not coming, damn it!" Fred’s shouts startled the group into silence. Shaking his head, he said quietly, "Let’s go." He started walking. The friends glanced at each other slowly, and one by one, they started following Fred towards the west.

*

"We got one, sir."

Kruser leapt up from his chair. Finally, his efforts had paid off. "Who is it?" he asked in his gravely voice.

The Guard glanced down at the piece of paper he was holding. "Number One Hundred and Seven, sir."

Kruser cursed inwardly. "That’s the veela girl, is it not?" The Guard nodded.

Such an insignificant Character. He had been hoping…but he kept his disappointment to himself. Facing the Guard, he said, "Where is she now?"

"We locked her up in one of the cells beneath the main compound." The Guard paused before continuing. "I don’t think she’s all right though, sir. She keeps saying…odd things."

Kruser’s dark eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

The Guard shifted uncomfortably. "She keep saying things like ‘he was right’ and ‘he didn’t keep me safe’." He shook his head. "I don’t think she’s going to recover, sir."

Kruser turned towards the window. He was silent for several moments. The Guard stood at attention, waiting for his captain’s command. "What should we do with her, sir?"

Kruser spoke slowly. "Let her be. There is nothing we can do now. She’ll waste away, probably." Turning to face his Guard again, he added, "Good work. Next time, bring me more than one."

***

Chapter 7:

Perdre un Frère

 Fred slowly wandered around the large, open area. Where was he? This didn’t look familiar. Perhaps it was a hidden room at Hogwarts. If this were the case, he had to go find George. He would want to know about it.

Fred continued to walk around the area. It was dark. Very dark. But oddly enough, huge objects kept moving around, changing shapes and positions. These were brightly illuminated, although they shed no light onto their surroundings. How odd, Fred mused. He must show Lee, too.

Looking forward, Fred saw a large tree. It’s twisted trunk spun in spirals, and its dark foliage glowed faintly. Blood red roses bloomed at its top. Behind it there was a soft, pastel glow. But there was nothing there to glow. It was if someone were shining a light at him from a different place. It intrigued Fred. He had to get a closer look at it. He started walking towards the glow when one of the large, illuminated objects jumped in front of him, knocking the wind out of him. As he stood gasping for air, he heard a cold, menacing voice.

"Fred Weasley, I presume. Or should I say Number Thirty-two?"

Fred spun around. No one was there. Suddenly out of the gloom two black eyes appeared. The eyes drew near him, searching his very soul. Fred couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. But the eyes, those cold, dark eyes were moving closer. A menacing laugh filled the air as Fred struggled to get away. He felt something hit his head. The laughter rang in his ears—he had to get away—the glow, he had to reach it—

Fred woke, gasping for air. He glanced around nervously. It had been a dream, only a dream. It had been so real…and those eyes. Fred could have sworn he had seen them somewhere before.

Fred shook his head, stood up and, quivering slightly, walked quietly over to the small creek near their camp site. He felt much better after splashing some cold, clean water on his face. He glanced up at the sky. It was starting to lighten. No point in going back to sleep now.

He hadn’t been sleeping very well for the past several nights, ever since they left Cair Paraval and Fleur behind them. He was having odd dreams…not exactly nightmares, but close enough to where they were disturbing. Fred blamed himself for Fleur’s loss. Yes, she had been quite annoying at times. But she deserved a chance.

The past three days had seen the companions leave the forests of Narnia and head into a more country like setting. Trees had thinned out and turned into gentle, grassy hills. Little farmhouses dotting the landscape were becoming more and more common. The friends tried to avoid these, however. None of them were exactly feeling up to acting cheery in the presence of others.

The previous evening they had seen a large city in the distance. After some thought, the Characters had decided to go through it. It looked to be quite large; going around it would take far too long. Fred had been glad of this decision. He preferred cities to the country. What with all the streets and people, cities were much easier to hide in. The Guards would have a harder time of finding them in there.

Fred heard a rustling noise behind him. Turning, he saw Hermione moving towards the creek. She smiled at him. "Hey. Couldn’t sleep?" Fred shook his head.

Hermione bent down and splashed some creek water on her own pale face. "Thought so. I couldn’t either. Besides, it’ll be morning soon, figured I might as well get up." She stood up and, raising her chin slightly, looked Fred straight in the eye. "Are you all right, Fred?"

Fred was startled by the bluntness of her question. "Yes, of course," he replied, raising an eyebrow as if to say "Why wouldn’t I be?"

Hermione sighed, tossing her untamed hair out of her face. "Oh, don’t give me that look, Fred." Her expression softened a little. "I was just asking. You seem to be putting a lot of pressure on yourself…I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok."

Fred turned his face from hers and looked into the restless creek. "Well, I’m fine. Peachy keen in fact."

Hermione continued to stare at him. "You know it isn’t you fault? About Fleur, I mean."

Fred kept looking at the creek. After a moment’s silence, he said, "I should’ve just grabbed her. Forced her to come with us." He paused. "What was I thinking?" he added quietly.

Hermione gave a sad smile. "Fred…you know as well as I do that Fleur was extremely stubborn. If she didn’t want to come," she shrugged. "There was nothing you or anyone else could do about it."

Fred was about to speak again when a loud shout split the air. "Oi, Hermione? That you down there?"

Fred turned towards the camp and chuckled. "Looks like my boisterous brother is awake." He raised his voice to yell back up at the campsite. "What are you trying to do, Ron? Trying to wake the whole camp, are you?"

Several moans and curses drifted down towards them. Hermione laughed. "I think it’s too late."

After a rather minute breakfast the friends were ready to depart. They started off in higher spirits than they had been in for several days, excited at the prospect of entering the rapidly nearing city.

It was approaching dusk by the time the nine friends reached the city. They stood off to the side of a well-trodden road they had been traveling on. But for all the use the road seemed to have acquired over time, it was oddly vacant. None of them noticed this. The friends’ attention was on the city the road led into. Fred’s first impression was that it was big. Very big. Impressively big. Try as he might, he couldn’t get over that fact. He heard someone sidle up next to him.

"Um…Fred?"

Fred responded without taking his eyes off the city. "Yes, George?"

"Do you think we should go in? I mean…that’s a really big city, and if we get lost in there…"

So George had been thinking along the same lines as him. Turning, Fred shook his head. "Yes, we should. You’re right, it is big. It would take us forever to go around. Besides," he added, lowering his voice slightly, "The Guards will have a harder time finding us in there."

George’s eyes hardened slightly. "Right." He glanced around. "Any reason for standing out here?" he asked the group in general.

Remus smiled his old, tired smile. "I shouldn’t think so."

Fred chuckled. "Right then." He jerked his head towards the city. "In, then?"

Kiara nodded. "Yes. Come on, let’s go."

Walking slowly, they entered the city. It didn’t take long before they were immersed in the winding streets and dark buildings. Fred noted that inside the city wasn’t nearly as impressive as outside. Everywhere he looked he saw signs of poverty. Children in ragged clothing, broken window panes. It was all highly depressing. But there was something else making his skin crawl. Something wasn’t right with this city. He had no idea what.

Harry broke the silence of the group. "Anyone else have a funny feeling?" he asked, looking at a group of running people.

Ron nodded, searching for Hermione’s hand. "Yeah. Know what you mean."

Hermione snorted impatiently, pulling her hand out of Ron’s reach. "Well, this is ridiculous." She quickly broke away from the group and walked up to a woman standing in a doorway. The woman eyes’ were wide, and she clutched her young child close to her chest. Hermione smiled kindly at her and began speaking in halting French.

Ron gaped at her. "Since when does Hermione know French?"

George shrugged. "Probably read a book about it."

Fred gave a distracted smile. He was listening intently to the French woman, although he couldn’t understand a word she was saying. Still, whatever she was saying seemed important.

"…mourir dans les rues—ils veulent la révolution! Oh le Seigneur, avoir la pitié sur leurs âmes pauvres…" She was waving her hands animatedly, while at the same time trying to hush her now crying child. It seemed Hermione was trying to pacify her, but to no avail. With a muttered "Remercie", Hermione returned to the group. She looked paler, and there was a strained light in her brown eyes.

"We should go," she said firmly. "As quickly as possible."

"What?" Draco snapped before anyone else could respond. "What are you going on about, Granger? What was that gibberish that bag lady was talking about?"

Kiara gave him a look that could have frozen a hot springs. Turning her face back to Hermione, she asked in a calm voice, "What did the woman tell you, Hermione?"

Hermione shot nervous glances around her as she spoke. "I couldn’t tell exactly—I don’t speak French that well, you know—but she said something about revolts…some sort of rebellion, I think. Fighting, killing, I caught those words." She looked at Fred. "It won’t be safe here for long. We should get out."

Fred nodded grimly. "Right." He glanced around. "Let’s just keep heading west. That should get us out of here eventually."

‘Eventually’ turned out longer than expected. The sun had set blood red in the sky when the group stopped again. Harry held a hand up, warning them to be quiet. "Listen," he whispered. "Hear that?" After a short pause, several quick explosions ripped through the air.

George’s eyebrows furrowed. "Gunshots. Sounds like they’re coming from the other side of this building." He caught Fred’s eye. "Check it out, shall we?"

Fred gave his consent, signaling the rest of his friends to stay where they were. Edging up to the corner of the building, they peered around it.

The main road. Leading out of the city. There it was. No more than two hundred yards away. Fred felt the excitement building in his chest. Then he looked at the area in between.

To their left a barricade rose up. Although it looked as if it had been constructed almost overnight, it seemed to radiate pride and passion. To their right was a much less inviting scene. Soldiers, all in distinct uniforms, were lined up, inspecting rifles and talking in rapid French. Between the two opposing forces lay dead men, the blood still leaking from their bodies. Fred gulped as he saw one body, a child, a boy who looked not more than twelve.

Fred took this all in at a glance. There was no going around it. They had to get to that road. How?

He jumped slightly when George nudged him. He’d forgotten his twin was there. "Look," he heard George whisper. Fred’s eyes followed George’s pointing arm. On the left side, a bit of the barricade jutted out, creating a small pathway where two of three people might be able to squeeze through at a time. This protected path led on for a short way, but it eventually broke off, leaving a wide open space between the barricade and the armed soldiers. Later on, however, the path started up again, leading its way behind a building on the other side of the scene of carnage. Right next to the road.

"It’s a risk," muttered George. "But the space between the two paths isn’t very big. Maybe ten yards." His brown eyes peered into Fred’s matching ones. "So? Should we try it?"

Fred stared at the path. It seemed the only way. But was it worth the risk?

He nodded. "Go get the others."

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to explain to the others what they had to do. Fred saw varying looks of nervousness, determination, and excitement on his friend’s faces. He couldn’t help but give a wry grin.

"Right," George’s voice brought him back to reality. "How should we do this, Fred?"

Fred glanced at his friends. "Remus, you, Draco, and Kiara go through first. When you get to the other side, we’ll send Harry, Ron, and Hermione across. Sirius and me and George will follow." He sighed. "All right? Good. Let’s do this."

It was a tight squeeze getting in the narrow passageway, but they all managed. After several short minutes they reached the end of it. The open space lay in front of them.

"All right, you three," whispered Fred from the back of the line. "Go fast! Don’t dawdle. We’ll meet on the road."

Remus, Draco, and Kiara all nodded grimly. After a brief pause, the three of them burst out of the passageway, sprinting towards the other end.

There was a long, heavy pause. Then the gunshots started. Fred watched breathlessly as his three friends ran just ahead of the flying bullets. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, they had made it to the other side. Panting, Remus smiled and gave them the thumbs up sign before heading towards the road.

"All right, Harry," muttered Sirius. "You three next. Go straight to the road, we’ll meet you there."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. Ron squeezed Hermione’s arm briefly, and the three friends ran out of the protected space. The soldiers didn’t take so long to respond this time. Still, they managed to make it to the other side unscathed.

George laughed. "Well! Looks like this shouldn’t be too difficult." He smiled at the two men standing next to him. "Ready, you two?"

Sirius let out a low whistle. "Ready as I’ll ever be."

Fred flashed a brief smile. "Right. Here we go." They stood for a moment, preparing for the great rush, then with a sudden burst they were all sprinting towards the opposite passageway.

The only thing Fred noticed at first was how much lighter it was out of the passageway. Not that it was all that light. Darkness was growing swiftly. But it was definitely lighter out here.

A series of explosions echoed in his ears. The soldiers were firing at them. But they were almost there. He stumbled briefly over a dead boy’s body, but quickly recovered himself and kept running.

Suddenly an intense pain filled his chest. What was going on? The sound of gunfire still split the air. He couldn’t stop now.

Fred skidded to a halt in the narrow passageway. They had made it. But his chest, it still hurt. Sharp pains shot through him.

"Fred!" He turned sharply. Something was wrong. Why was Sirius supporting George like that?

"Fred, help me with him. He managed to run all the way through, but he needs help now." Fred had no idea what Sirius was talking about. He looked at his twin. What was that growing dark spot on his chest?…

Fred felt like he was going to throw up. He rushed to George’s side, attempting to help Sirius with him. "Shit! George, hang on, we’ll get you to the road—" George started coughing violently. Fred watched with dismay as blood dotted his twin’s freckled cheeks.

"Let me lie down," George said in a hoarse voice. "Lay me down, please, Sirius." Sirius and Fred gently propped him up against the passageway wall.

"George, let me get a look at you," muttered Sirius. He pulled apart George’s blood stained hands and lifted up his sopping shirt. Fred’s breath caught in his throat. George’s chest was a gory mess. The gaping hole in the center of his chest continued to pour out precious blood.

"Oh God—" Fred’s voice caught in his throat as the pains in his own chest increased.

"Fred…" George struggled to speak. "Go on. The others are waiting. Hurry up, go—" he broke off as a spasm of coughs racked his body.

"George, we’re not going to leave you like this, just wait, Sirius and I will help you and—"

"No," George said forcefully. "I can’t—it’s not safe here, go…"

"George, you git, listen—"

"Fred!" George seemed to be struggling to speak. "Don’t make me hit you, because I will. Sirius, please."

Sirius seemed to be struggling with something. Finally he bit his lip and muttered in a tight voice, "Right, George." He grabbed Fred’s arm. "Come on, Fred. We have to go."

Fred looked at Sirius in horror. "What? Are you mental? We can’t leave George, we just can’t…" his voice trailed off into a dismal sob.

George smiled wryly, his head slumping on his chest. "Sorry, Forge. Hate to leave you like this." He coughed weakly, wiping some blood off his chin. "Wish I could’ve made it…bet Reality’s a real nice place…"

Tears trickled out of Fred’s eyes. "George—no! Let go!" Sirius had begun tugging at Fred’s waist. Fred struggled briefly against him, but the other man was stronger. "I’m sorry, Gred," he whispered, before allowing Sirius to lead him to the road. Turning, he gave one last look at his twin, slumped over, blood mingling with the dirt in the narrow passageway.

*

"We found Number Thirty-three dead, sir."

"Damn." Captain Kruser’s black eyes glinted in the pale light of his office. "One of the twins, wasn’t he? A red-head?" The Guard nodded.

Kruser sighed, gentling rubbing his temples. "Ah well…I suppose that one could be spared." He looked up at the Guard. "Any sign of the others?"

The Guard shook his head. "They were probably there with him originally…but when we got there, they were gone."

Kruser turned his back toward the Guard. A long pause followed. When he turned back around, there was a faint smile on his face. "Very well," he said quietly. "Get some rations together. We leave tonight."

The Guard raised a heavy eyebrow. "We, sir?"

Kruser nodded, his smile spreading. "Yes. We. This time, I shall be going with you thick-headed Guards." He chuckled quietly, his dark eyes shining with merriment. "There will be no mistakes this time."

***

Chapter 8:

Withdrawal

Kiara’s eyes wandered over the huddled group of friends. They had exited the ill-fated city several hours ago. No one had said a word as Sirius dragged the sobbing Fred onto the road. Kiara had quickly taken in their bloody hands and the lack of the third person in their group. Beside her, she heard Ron breathe, "George."

They now sat inside an abandoned shack, out in the middle of a farmer’s fields. Remus and Sirius were standing, leaning against the wall, talking in hushed tones. Harry sat with his back against the wall, head between his knees, staring at the floor. Ron was huddled in a corner, tears running down his face. Hermione sat with him, arm around his shoulders, whispering something to him. Even Draco seemed somber. He stood staring out a dirty window, arms folded across his chest, unblinking and unmoving.

And Fred. He hadn’t stepped foot inside their miserable shelter. Sirius had had to half carry him out of the city. Upon reaching the shack, he simply wandered off. It had been several hours ago. Looking past Draco, Kiara could see him through the window. Standing. Just standing in the field of tall grass, silhouetted by the moon.

She couldn’t take it anymore. The morbid stillness, the unshed tears. Standing quickly, she mouthed "I’ll be back" to Hermione before walking out the door.

The harsh wind whipped her clothes against her, and her hair immediately whisked in front of her face. Raising a hand, she pushed back the hair from her eyes, staring at the solitary figure in the moonlight.

She slowly approached him. The tall grass tickled her legs. What would she say to him? What was he thinking? She had no way of knowing. But she knew she had to try to talk to him. She couldn’t bear to see him retreat into himself.

She was standing right behind him now. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. He knew she was there. She stood there, hoping her silent presence was comfort enough for him.

"The moon." Kiara jumped slightly. She hadn’t expected him to speak, least of all about the night sky.

"Yes?" she said quietly, quickly glancing up at the half moon hanging in the dark sky. "What about it, Fred?"

He did not turn to face her. She saw his eyes trained on the silver orb above their heads. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" he asked her. "I can’t remember the last time I just looked at it."

Kiara was at a loss for words. What should she say to this? She looked at his face, still turned away from hers. His eyes were dry, although bloodshot.

"George and I…" his voice trailed off. After a minute of silence, he continued. "When we were kids…we wanted to live on the moon. Bill…he was our oldest brother, he told us you could float up there, sort of bounce around. It sounded like bloody fun to us."

Kiara took a step forward. "Fred," she whispered. "Fred, I am so sorry."

Fred didn’t seem to hear her. He stood staring up at the sky. "I keep trying to tell myself," he said suddenly, softly, as if he didn’t even notice Kiara’s presence, "that he wasn’t really my brother. My twin. After all, She created us. She made us. We’re just Her...inventions. We weren’t really brothers."

He paused. When he spoke again, it was in so quiet and strained a voice that Kiara had to strain her ears to hear him above the wind. "But then…I can’t make myself believe it. I can’t ignore the feeling that half of me is gone. That half of me is dead." He looked down. "He was my brother, my twin. I—" his voice caught and he swallowed hard. "I left him there. Bleeding. Dying. I feel like I died with him." He blinked several times and looked up at the sky.

Kiara took another tentative step forward. "Fred…I cannot express how sorry I am. And I understand. But—"

"You understand?" Fred snapped, spinning around to face her. Kiara was startled by the look of hatred in his eyes. "You understand losing half of you? You know what it’s like to leave everyone you know and love behind, set out, and get your friends killed? Watch them drop off one by one like bloody flies?" He took a deep shuddering breath. "You have no idea."

Kiara’s eyes glared defiantly. "Do not think you know so much about me, Fred. I understand watching a loved one die." She turned her eyes away from his. "I watched my cousin die. After he came back from…well, from wherever he went. I watched him wither away before my very eyes. Retreat into himself." She paused, then continued quietly. "We were close, Fred. And while I admit I cannot understand losing a twin…do not think you are the only person who has lost friends, family."

The two were silent for a moment. "I—I’m sorry, Kiara," Fred muttered. "I—it’s just—I’ve been thinking." He ran his hand distractedly over his tired face. "Is it all worth it? How do I know I’m not just leading you on some wild hunt with no end?"

Kiara walked forward and placed her hand on his arm. "Fred," she whispered. "You cannot give up hope. You are what is keeping the others going." She paused momentarily. "George would not want you to stop. We have to keep going."

Green eyes stared into brown ones. Kiara couldn’t remember ever seeing so much frustration, anger, sorrow, and confusion all built up in a person’s eyes.

Slowly, Fred placed his hand on top of hers. He did the action gradually, as if nervous of her reaction. "Kiara, I…" he stopped, swallowing. He leaned in slightly, still staring into her eyes.

Kiara’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Fred tilt towards her. "Fred?…" she whispered.

Fred stopped moving. As Kiara watched him, a shutter seemed to fall behind his eyes, blocking off all feeling. She gave a small gasp, startled by the sudden void that replaced all those raw emotions she had previously seen.

Fred stepped back quickly. His face was expressionless as he said quietly but clearly, "Go back to the shack. I’ll be there in a minute."

She couldn’t leave him out here. Not like this. "Fred, I—"

"Go. Please."

He had turned away from her. Kiara stood behind him for a moment, staring at the back of his head. She felt as if an invisible tendril had reached out from him, pushing her away. Slowly she turned and walked back to the shack. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

*

It was several minutes later when Fred quietly opened the door to the shack. He did not walk in, but simply stood in the doorway, looking around the room at the friends grouped there.

"We need to go," he said in a quiet but firm voice. "The Guards are probably still following us…we can’t stay here any longer." His eyes lingered on Ron’s tearstained face for a moment. "I’m sorry," he added softly.

Kiara watched his eyes as he spoke. That same curtain still seemed to be drawn over them. The lively, sparkling brown eyes she had come to know…they were gone. They read no emotion now. Blank. Void. It scared her.

No one else seemed to notice. They were hurriedly gathering their few belongings. Kiara held in the heavy sigh she felt and joined them as they headed outside, following Fred. He was already ahead of them, walking by himself, slowly retreating into the shadows of the night.

***

Chapter 9:

What Dreams May Come

"To die, to sleep—to sleep—perchance to dream:

ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come…"

"Fred…where are we?"

The Characters walked forward in a tight knot, gazing at the landscape surrounding them. Or the lack of landscape. Darkness engulfed them. Not the kind of darkness that comes at nightfall. This was deeper, baser, more oppressing. They could see nothing except their own pale faces, and those seemed strangely illuminated. The darkness seemed to push them together, whispering to them, informing them that they had entered a forbidden place.

Kiara shot a quick look at Fred. Despite Hermione’s question addressed to him, he still remained silent. He had said little over the last several days. What he had said had been abrupt and to the point. "We need to go now." "Let’s rest here." "Shove it, Draco."

Whenever she could she would peek a glance at his eyes. They hadn’t changed. That veil was still drawn over them. She couldn’t see Fred in them. The others hadn’t noticed at first. But eventually they had all caught on. They had all seen the vacant look in his once animated eyes. It scared them all.

Over the past two days they had traveled across low rolling grasslands, which had gradually turned into stubble grass fields. These, in their turn, had simply turned into badlands. Grey dirt covered the ground in every direction. Every once in a while they’d find a small puddle of brown water, or a dead, shriveled tree. That was it.

The mist had rolled in the previous night. It had started out thin, like a morning fog. But it grew thicker and thicker as they ventured on. Finally they couldn’t see their own noses in front of their faces. They had held hands so as not to lose each other. The mist had just recently cleared away. And they had found themselves in the darkness.

Remus coughed quietly, jolting Kiara back to the present. She saw Remus looking pointedly at Fred. "Fred," he said mildly, "I along with Hermione would like to know where we are. Any ideas?"

"No, Remus," came the monotone reply.

For a moment there was silence. Then Draco started in. "I knew it," he muttered, "you’ve gone and got us lost. I knew you would. You’ve had no clue where we were going all along. Why, I have half a mind to—"

"To what, Draco?" Fred stopped and turned to face Draco, his face blank. "Would you care to show us the way? Go on, then."

Draco gave Fred a venomous look and said through clenched teeth, "All I said was—"

"Shove it, both of you. Look over there!" Harry’s voice sounded excited.

Hermione released her grip on Ron’s hand and stood on tiptoe. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry was peering through his glasses. "Don’t you see it? Kind of a faint glow, over that way."

"Damn," muttered Sirius, "he’s right."

A pale glow shone in the distance, barely a pinpoint in the dark. As they looked, the pinpoint seemed to grow. It continued to grow at a steady pace.

"It’s coming this way," whispered Ron. The words had barely escaped Ron’s mouth when the glowing object rolled in front of them.

It was a sphere. A large, blue-glowing sphere, gently rolling in what seemed to be a predetermined path. It seemed to shine with a sort of inner light, that only illuminated a few inches surrounding from the ball. It rolled off into the distance, quickly becoming enveloped in the darkness.

"Right…" Ron muttered.

The group continued to slowly walk forward. Before long, more illuminated objects came into view, slowly rolling around them, continually moving. Huge blocks, spheres, triangles, even five-pointed stars. All radiating soft, pastel lights.

"Wait."

Kiara jerked her head up to look at Fred. His voice sounded different than it had for the past several days…there was something in it now…

"See that?" Fred pointed ahead of them. Another illuminated object was there, although this one was different. It wasn’t moving, and the glow surrounding it seemed darker, not pale pastel like the other colors. "Let’s go closer," said Fred quietly.

As they neared the new figure, they realized it was a tree. A large tree. It’s tall, twisting trunk was at least two feet wide. The leaves gracing its top boughs were dark green. That’s where the glow was coming from. The leaves threw eerie green beams of light over the trunk of the tree.

"What are those red things?" asked Draco. "Up in the leaves?"

There was silence for a moment while the friends peered at the tree. "Why," said Hermione, sounding surprised, "they’re roses."

Deep red roses decked the foliage of the tree. Their color was so intense they looked as if they would start dripping blood at any moment.

"Hey," remarked Sirius, "there’s another one of those ball things behind it."

He seemed to be right. There was a faint glow behind the tree. But it didn’t seem to be coming near them. In fact, it seemed very different from the other glows surrounding them. It seemed deeper, somehow. Like it was going back a long ways, almost like a tunnel…

"Bloody hell," whispered Fred.

Hermione looked startled. "Fred! Language!"

Fred ignored her, staring ahead of him at the tree and the glow behind it. "That’s it…" he breathed.

Ron looked at him, puzzled. "What’s it, Fred? What are you on about?"

Fred opened his mouth to respond, but a low voice behind them made him freeze.

"Fred Weasley, I presume."

The Characters spun around, many of them reaching for wands. Fred, however, stood still for a moment, before slowly turning to face the man who had spoken.

Twenty Guards stood in front of them, all holding various firearms. A man stood several feet in front of them. His dark clothes seemed to blend in with the blackness surrounding him. He carried no weapon. He looked perfectly at ease with the situation. His ebony eyes even seemed to be laughing. A small smirk drew on his face. "Or should I say, Number Thirty-two?"

Fred nodded slightly. "Captain Kruser."

He heard someone give a small gasp behind him, and saw Kruser’s eyes darken slightly.

"Your wands are of no use to you here," he said coldly. Out of the corner of his eye, Fred saw Sirius and Harry lower their wands slightly. "You’re out of your realm of fiction, you know. Things don’t work the same here."

Fred’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

Kruser smiled in a benevolent sort of way. It made Fred furious. "Ah, my dear Characters. You know so little." He took a small step forward. "You have noticed you’ve been going through different lands, haven’t you? Different Author’s domains? The rules are different in every place. What you know and what you can do becomes totally irrelevant here."

"And where exactly is ‘here’?" Fred asked tightly.

Kruser looked around, a small smile playing on his face. "Yes, it is rather different, isn’t it? A dream, a nightmare. A small child’s dystopia. The make-believe world of slumber. This is the closet you can get to Reality without actually being there, you know." He grinned cruelly at the look on the Characters’ faces. "Yes. Reality. You were right, Mr. Weasley. It does exist. Pity you shall never make it."

Harry took a small step forward behind Fred. "How do you know?" he asked quietly.

Kruser blinked, as if seeing Harry for the first time. A huge smile spread on his face. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Number One. I’m so very glad to find you…intact." He turned his smile to Fred. "After seeing the remains of your other three friends, I was getting worried. Leaving bodies in alleyways…that will never do." His eyes flashed merrily at the drawn look on Fred’s face. "Am I right in assuming that that was Number Thirty-three?"

Fred’s breath sounded ragged, as if he were fighting to control himself. "What do you want with us?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought that was obvious, Mr. Weasley. You are going to come back to the Corporation with me. All of you." He looked at the resolute faces peering at him. "Or, at the very least," he added, smiling, "the important of you. The ones that really matter."

Hermione gave a choked sob behind Fred. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Why do you care? It doesn’t hurt you, just to let us go!"

Kruser’s eyes hardened slightly, and the smile folded on his face. "On the contrary, my dear Miss Granger. Making sure you’re safe and sound and ready for Her use…why, that guarantees that I will never be used in some Author’s world. My job is far too important." The smile returned to his face. "After all, you are the characters of the world of Harry Potter. You have no idea just exactly what that means."

The Characters were silent for a moment. Then Harry spoke quietly. "You don’t have to do that. You could come with us. All of you."

The Guards behind Kruser shifted uncomfortably, sneaking glances at each other. Kruser’s black eyes hardened once again. "Come with you," he repeated in a monotone voice. "To Reality? Or to Mr. Weasley’s diluted vision of Reality?" He laughed. "My dear Mr. Potter, you have no idea what it’s really like there!" His eyes danced with merriment. "I know. I have been there. Yes, many years ago. And let me tell you, it’s not all peaches and cream. Not what Mr. Weasley has led you to believe it is." He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. Then he continued in a much softer voice. "Just think what you’re leaving behind. Don’t you realize what you are? You are gods. People practically worship you. You are immortal here. Could you leave that? Could you really go into a world where you are nobody, and you are treated like nobody? Where you have to work for everything you need, want, and desire? Go to a world where you will get sick, you will grow old, and you will die?" He smiled wryly. "I think not."

Silence fell over the two groups. The Guards shifted their guns quietly. The Characters remained motionless. Kruser’s dark eyes seemed to be trying to penetrate their souls.

"You’re wrong, Kruser."

Kruser’s eyes snapped to stare at Fred. "What?" he asked in a hard voice.

Fred steadily returned his gaze. "You’re wrong. Maybe Reality isn’t all ‘peaches and cream’, like you say. But…" he took a deep breath and his eyes dropped to look at the ground. "It’s better than this," he said quietly. "It’s better than having no choice over your life. Better than having your life written out for you." He raised his head, once again matching Kruser’s unblinking gaze. "We won’t be gods in Reality, and we will eventually die, as you say. And that’s fine with me. At least we’ll be happy. We’re going. And you can’t stop us."

A minor explosion seemed to happen in the back of Kruser’s eyes. "Really?" he snarled. All traces of benevolence and reason were gone from his voice. "Guards!" he shouted, turning slightly. "Get them! All of them, shoot if you have to, but I want Number One alive."

The Guards started rushing forward, raising their guns. The Characters took several hurried step backwards before a dark wall rushed up between them and the Guards.

They heard Kruser’s furious shrieks from the other side of the wall. "What happened?" asked Remus, staring doubtfully at the black, swirling wall.

Fred looked just as confused. "I don’t know." Then realization dawned on his face. "It’s a dream," he muttered. "Kruser said we’re in a child’s dream. It’s changing," He looked at the wall. "Come on, this should give us enough time to—"

"Fred!" shouted Ron. "The wall’s fading!"

The wall was slowly evaporating. Now it looked more like a thick smoke, disappearing more and more rapidly.

"Hurry!" said Fred. "Come on, that light, that tunnel! We have to get through it!"

The Characters rushed forward. Fred watched the glow grow nearer and nearer. Ron, at the head of the group, was almost there. Suddenly, with a blinding flash, he was in it. Then Draco. Then Hermione. One by one, they were disappearing into the white tunnel.

Fred heard gunshot and felt a bullet go whizzing past his shoulder. He glanced back. The wall was completely gone.

"Go!" he shouted to Sirius and Remus, who had almost reached the glow. The paused momentarily before both jumping into the tunnel, vanishing.

"Quick, over here." Fred grabbed Harry and Kiara and shoved them behind the tall tree with the blood red roses. The three of them stood there, panting, tantalizingly close to the glowing tunnel.

"What are we going to do?" gasped Harry, holding a stitch in his side.

Fred shook his head, still fighting for breath. He stood for a moment, back against the tree, eyes closed. Slowly he regained his breath. He remained silent. Kiara watched a sort of desperate calm come over him.

"Ok," he said quietly. "This is what we’ll do." He opened his eyes and pulled off his stained, once tan overcoat. He handed it over to Harry. "Put this on, and make a break for the tunnel," he said. "They might just think you’re me. And they don’t care about me. It’s you they want."

Harry nodded silently, pulling on the coat. "What about you two?"

"You go first. We’ll follow."

Harry paused for a moment, then nodded grimly. "All right," he said. His eyes twinkled briefly. "See you in Reality." With a sudden dash he sprinted towards the tunnel.

Fred heard the Guards shouting, and then Kruser’s voice echoed over theirs. "Let him go! It’s just that Weasley bastard. Number One’s behind the tree, that’s who I want!"

Fred let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding. "They bought it," he whispered.

"What now?" asked Kiara.

Fred was silent. Kiara saw the odd look on his face.

"Fred," she said, more strongly. "What are we going to do now?"

Fred still didn’t look at her. "Kiara," he said finally, "both of us don’t stand a chance of making it. But if I run to the left, it’ll distract them. For the moment, they think I’m Harry. And you—"

"What? Of course not, Fred, I will not let you do that! Once they realize you are not Harry, they will—"

"Kiara," muttered Fred, and he turned to look at her.

Kiara gasped. His eyes. They were no longer blank. Emotion seemed to pour out of them. Resolution, acceptance…and at the very back, something new, something she had not seen before.

"Kiara," he said quietly. "I’m not afraid. I don’t care." He gently grasped her hand. "I don’t have anything left. I’m not whole." He paused. "I’m ready to go." He smiled wryly. "After all, isn’t death supposed to be the greatest adventure?"

Kiara felt the tears welling up in her eyes. "Fred," she choked, "Stop. You cannot, I—"

Fred leaned in and placed his lips on hers, silencing her. It was a gentle kiss, full of sadness, but at the same time, peace.

Fred pulled away from her. She looked into his eyes. Suddenly she was able to decipher the new emotion in his brown eyes.

Love.

He stared into her green eyes. "When I run out from behind the tree," he whispered, "promise me you’ll run for the tunnel."

She couldn’t help it. Against her own will, she felt her head nod in agreement.

"Good." He paused, still searching her eyes. Finally, he took a step back, releasing her hand. "Good bye, Kiara."

And he dashed out from behind the tree.

For several moments Kiara stood there, frozen. Then she remembered her promise to him. Her last promise to him. Gasping between her sobs, she ran towards the glowing tunnel, squinting as the light grew nearer and nearer to her. Behind her, she could hear the Guard’s shouts.

"There he is, Number One!"

"Wait, that’s—"

Kruser’s enraged voice. "Damn him! It’s Weasley! Shoot him, you imbeciles, I want that bastard dead!"

Sobs racked Kiara’s body as she heard the gunshots mix with Kruser’s maniacal laughter. Then there was silence.

She had entered the tunnel.

*

The baby woke with a cry. Terrible images ran through her young mind. The dream had started out nice enough, with pastel colors floating around. But darkness had consumed them, darkness filled with screams and cries and gunshots. The baby wailed into the night.

A young woman came rushing into the room, quickly tying on a dressing gown. She reached down, scooping up the crying baby and cooing gently, "There, there, love, Mummy’s here now. It was only a nightmare, everything’s all right."

The baby quickly settled down in her mother’s warm embrace. After a few minutes of quiet snuffling, the baby drifted back off into a dreamless sleep, all thoughts of her last nightmare gone.

***

Epilogue:

Reality

Harry blew gently on the steaming mug of tea in front of him. His mouth still stung from the last time he burned his tongue on scalding tea.

Ron shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him. Harry hid a smile. "Harry," Ron hissed, "shouldn’t we be going soon?"

"Relax, Ron," murmured Harry. "It’s only a fifteen minute walk. We have plenty of time."

"Oh. Right." Ron glanced nervously at the clock. "Think I’ll get myself some tea. Or something."

Harry chuckled as Ron shuffled into the kitchen. He always tried to hide the fact that he was madly in love with Hermione. That’s why he was in such a hurry. He wanted to see her. And he was convinced that Harry had no clue about his feelings for her.

Of course, Harry couldn’t really blame him for being anxious to visit Hermione. The last ten months had been hard. No one had had any time to really visit.

Harry leaned back in his chair, eyes half closed. Had it really been ten months since they had come to Reality? It seemed like ten years.

Running through that white tunnel had been the scariest moment in his life. One second, he heard gunshots behind him. The next, total silence. Blinding white light had surrounded him, pressed in on him, tickled his skin. The next moment, the whiteness was gone. No gradual switch. Just gone. He stood in a small, dark field, looking at the scared faces of his friends. "Kiara and Fred are coming," he had panted out. They waited.

Minutes passed. Sirius had started to sway nervously. Remus was biting his lips, and Draco was looking irritated. Just as Ron was starting to peer in the direction where Harry had come from, Kiara appeared, sprinting toward them. Harry’s smile vanished as he saw the tears streaming down her dirty face.

Hermione hurried forward, grabbing Kiara’s arm to steady her. Between Kiara’s sobs, Harry had heard the words, "Fred…said to run…Kruser…Kruser said…oh, no…"

The seven remaining Characters had spent that first miserable night in the open field. It was too cold to sleep. Harry was sure no one had really cared. Over the course of the night, he kept hearing the sounds of people crying softly.

They discovered the following morning that the small field was actually on the outskirts of a large Muggle city. It had taken them several minutes to figure out that they were now Muggles, too. The booming metropolis they found themselves in was crowded and intimidating. Cars and people rushed past them on all sides, hardly taking notice of them. That night had been another uneasy one, spent crouching on one of the city’s sidewalks.

After three days of hiding in dark alleyways and scrounging for food, Hermione had stood resolutely and said, "Time to get on with this." She had returned several hours later, declaring that she had secured herself a job as a waitress.

This news inspired the others. While Hermione was at her first day on the new job, Sirius, Remus, and Ron went searching. They refused to tell Harry what for. "Just searching," they had said. That night they had returned in an excited frenzy. After some calming remarks from Harry and some snide ones from Draco, they had told them that they had found what they were "searching" for. They had discovered a small, abandoned flat in the center of the city. The seven of them immediately went there. It consisted of one dilapidated room, complete with peeling paint and broken furniture. Evidently, the old owners had left in a hurry. No one really cared why. Any shelter was better than the streets.

With each passing day, Harry had the irritating, growing feeling that Kruser had been right. Fred’s vision of Reality wasn’t true. Several months after they had run across the abandoned flat, things weren’t much better. The ex-Characters had virtually no money to spend between the seven of them. Getting the simple items needed to sustain life was a never-ending battle. Yes, Harry and Ron had found jobs at a small produce stand, but the pay there was minimal. Kiara had joined Hermione as a waitress, but their tips didn’t do much to put food on the table. Sirius, Remus, and Draco were still jobless. Life seemed a gray, bleak world.

More and more, Harry found himself wondering if they had made the right choice. At least at the Corporation they had had food to eat, and beds to sleep in. Even the Corporation’s bunk beds were better than hard floors.

Harry thought of Oliver, Fleur, George, and Fred. Was this really worth their sacrifices? This new world, this Reality, didn’t seem worth it. Harry always felt a twinge of guilt at these thoughts. It was if he were dishonoring Fred’s memory. Fred had had this perfect vision of Reality, he viewed it as some sort of Eden. But he had been wrong. It wasn’t anything special. Just another place to monotonously go about life.

Harry remembered when he realized that they had made the right choice.

He and Ron had caught a late breakfast at a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant near their flat. It was a dismal morning. Rain pelted against the windows and wind pounded against the door, slipping in through any crack or crevice it could find in the rundown building. Harry wrapped his scarf around his neck tighter.

"What are you having, Ron?" he had asked.

Ron shrugged. "Probably just some hot oatmeal. You?"

Harry shook his head. "I don’t know. I was thinking of that, but maybe—" he had stopped dead, staring at the menu in front of him. His green eyes were wide.

"What?" said Ron, looking alarmed. "What’s up, Harry?"

Harry had looked up slowly, a smile spread on his tired face. "Ron," he whispered. "We have a choice here. We can order whatever we want. It hasn’t been—been…predetermined by someone, by Her, what we are going to eat this morning for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. And we can decide what we’re going to do today. Maybe we’ll work. Maybe we won’t. We can decide." A light had illuminated his eyes. "The choice is ours, Ron." He had paused, looking once again down at the menu. "This is how it’s supposed to be."

Ron had sat in stunned silence for a moment. Suddenly, he had burst out into laughter, causing the other occupants of the restaurant to look up in disgust. "You’re right!" he had shouted excitedly. "I can eat whatever I want!" He had hurriedly called the waiter over. "One of everything on here!" he had exclaimed, still laughing. Looking at Harry, he shrugged. "It’ll waste a month’s pay, but so what? I can do it!"

"Oi, Harry? Should we be going now?"

Harry jumped slightly, startled out of his reveries. Looking up, he saw Ron’s hopeful face peering at him. "Right," he laughed. "Let’s go."

Harry and Ron started walking to the small house that Hermione and Kiara shared. After many months of hard work, the two girls had saved up enough money to buy the tiny cottage. Although the house itself was small, only two rooms, it had a large stretch of garden behind it. "It’s a lucky find," Hermione had said. "And besides, it’s better than staying you five men." Ron had protested at this comment.

He and Ron had also managed to rent out their own little apartment. Above the produce shop they worked at was a small, two room flat belonging to the owner of the shop. He had graciously agreed to rent it out to Harry and Ron for a small price. Ron found it a dream come true. He could roll out of bed a minute before work and still be on time.

Harry heard Ron give a small cry beside him. Turning, he found his friend face down on the ground. "Bloody hell," Ron muttered, dusting himself off, "I always forget about that hole." He glanced down at the offending hole and gave it a nasty look. Harry chuckled, walking up to the girls’ small home. Several seconds after he knocked Hermione swung upon the door.

"Ron, Harry!" she said, a smile radiating her face. "Come in, we were just getting some tea ready." The scowl immediately vanished from Ron’s face as he walked inside with Hermione.

"Are the others here yet?" Harry asked.

"No, you’re the first. Your place is closer, you know," Hermione replied, glancing over her shoulder at Harry. Sirius, Remus, and Draco still lived in the original flat they had found. They had managed to repair most of the damages, however. Sirius had secured a job at a butcher’s shop, while Remus had managed to find work at a local bookstore. Hermione had told Harry that Draco had found a job as a lawyer’s assistant. Harry wasn’t exactly sure what this job involved, but from the sound of it, it was right up Draco’s alley.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled out into the garden. When they had first bought the place, the garden had been a wild jungle of weeds. Sirius became absolutely convinced that some of the tougher weeds were eating rodents. But Kiara had quickly restored the garden to order. The old apple blossom trees looked healthy once again, and flowers bloomed all around. Harry liked to spend as much time here as possible. It was peaceful.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Harry turned. Sirius, Remus, Draco, and Kiara come walking out the back door. "We are all here now," said Kiara, with a shadow of a smile.

Harry hid a frown. Kiara had been so different ever since they had reached Reality. She seemed more reserved now, as if something were weighing down on her. When asked about it, she would simply shake her head and insist that nothing was wrong. Harry had to admit, however, that she seemed better than when they had first arrived. Now a smile could sometimes be seen tracing its way along her face. Harry could only hope that whatever was plaguing her would eventually disappear.

"Oh, good," Hermione said, smiling broadly. "I’ll grab the tea."

*

It was after sunset when the friends finally decided they should leave for the night. Just as everyone was standing, a gentle voice said, "Wait."

Harry looked down at Kiara, her green eyes shining brightly. "Should we go visit them? Since we are all here?"

Harry exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione. "Yeah," Ron said quietly. "Let’s."

"Wait a second." Hermione rushed into the house and came back carrying flowers. "Picked these this morning," she explained, handing them to her friends.

The seven of them followed a small path to the very back of the garden where a small, red rose bush stood proudly. In front of the bush lay four engraved stones. The friends spread out, standing in front of these smooth stones, looking down at them.

With a heavy sigh, Sirius set down a flower next to the first stone. It read:

Oliver Wood

The first to sacrifice

Harry saw Remus wipe away a small tear. Oliver hadn’t deserved that fate. Harry hoped he was at peace now.

Hermione stood forward quickly, placing her flower in front of the next stone. She read the writing on it out loud, even though they had all memorized it.

Fleur Delacour

Forever a Queen

Harry felt the anger rising within him. He quickly pushed it away. It wasn’t Fleur’s fault she had stayed behind. She truly believed she would be protected. No matter what she had done, no one deserved to die at the mercy of the Corporation.

Harry sensed Ron stepping forward next to him. With a blank look on his face, Ron placed his flower beside the next stone.

George Weasley

Lived and died a hero

Harry glanced over at Sirius. He knew his godfather would never forgive himself for leaving George in that alleyway. Harry wished he would. It was what George had wanted. His final request.

The friends stood in silence for several minutes. Finally, Kiara stepped forward. Bending down, she gently placed her flower beside the last stone.

A single tear fell from Harry’s eyes as a smile pulled on his lips. He couldn’t help but smile whenever he read this stone. It was what he would have wanted. He died for this. He believed in Reality. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Harry read the words engraved on that last stone.

Fred Weasley

You did it

***