No Laughing Matter

After Fred had seen Carly safely into her apartment, and made an excuse for not just staying the night, he checked on Mrs. Dunmeyer. The elderly lady confided in him that she never slept (the result of a spell gone wrong in her youth) and that she would keep an eye on Carly's place during the night. He left the building, feeling better, and found a quiet spot from which to apparate to Order of the Phoenix Headquarters at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He let himself into the dark entryway and quietly made his way past the sleeping portraits to the basement kitchen where any members in residence were likely to be gathered. The lamps around the room were all lit, and there was a tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread in the air.

Remus Lupin was sitting at the table with the remnants of him meal in front of him, studying the roll of parchment open next to his plate. Fred recognized it as the letter he had sent earlier that evening. The older man looked up from the parchment and smiled faintly at Fred; he was looking unwell, and Fred realized that it had not been more than a day or two since the full moon. The past few months had etched a few more lines into the man's care-worn face and added a few more gray hairs to his head. The loss of Sirius had deflated his usually calm demeanor for a while, and after seeing Harry off to Privet Drive at the end of the last school year, he had disappeared to lick his wounds in private. Fred had been glad when he had returned, seeming much like his old self, and showing no outward signs of serious emotional turmoil. Lupin had never discusses where he had gone or what he had done during that time, but it seemed to have done him some good.

Arthur Weasley was sitting opposite Lupin, a bottle of Butterbeer in hand, talking quietly with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was seated next to Lupin. Both men wore serious expressions and leaned slightly toward each other over the table, as though they were trying to keep from being overheard. They made a striking contrast to each other, Fred noticed, seeing them there together. Shacklebolt, with his broad shoulders and large frame; his dark skin and shiny pate looked more intimidating than usual across from the slighter stature of Arthur Weasley, who looked every inch of what he was on the surface; a mild-mannered bureaucrat with red, thinning hair, and pale, freckled skin that didn't see enough sun. It struck Fred as funny that both men were equally dangerous in their own way. He hadn't realized how formidable his own father could be until he had become involved in the Order of the Phoenix.

"It's just lucky for everyone that Harry realized that it had been tampered with before serious damage was done..." Arthur broke off when Kingsley interrupted.

"Fred. Arthur was just telling us about a strange woman trying to get into your girlfriend's apartment tonight."

Fred nodded, not to be distracted by what he had just overheard his father saying, "What happened with Harry?"

Well, it seems we might have an answer for why someone tried to break into your shop," Arthur said, taking off his glasses and polishing the lenses on his robes (a sure sign that he need a moment to think). "Or we thought we did. This new development at the girls' apartment, though..."

Fred folded his arms across his chest. He hadn't missed that his father had said someone instead of Percy, but he let that slide for now. He had learned that his father chose his words very carefully and deliberately, so there was more than a simple omission of a name going on in his mind.

"What has that got to do with Harry?" Fred asked, not willing to be sidetracked from his original question.

Kingsley answered this time. "Harry received a parcel this morning. It was packaged to look as though it had come from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but Harry became suspicious at took it to McGonagall."

"George and I haven't sent anything to Harry for at least a week." Fred confirmed, "What was in the parcel?"

"Well Harry took it straight to Professor McGonagall," Lupin picked up the story from there. "And told her that it looked like it was from you boys, but that it was missing the seal you normally use when you send him anything."

Fred nodded, coming to lean against the table next to his father, and said, "Yeah. Harry, Ron and Hermione all know not to open anything from the shop unless it has our seal on it... we only use that seal for them in particular, and I don't think anyone else knows about it."

"You suspected something like this might happen?" Kingsley asked with an arched eyebrow, sounding impressed.

"Well, the most evil wizard in the world is out to get Harry, it seemed like common sense to us," Fred said with a shrug. "We've told you all that George and I aren't completely irresponsible." It still rankled that they had been denied full membership into the Order so far.

"Let's not get into that right now," Arthur sighed. The boys had been persistently asking to join the order for months, and it was really only Molly's insistence that she wouldn't be able to handle it that kept them officially out.

"Anyway," Lupin cut in smoothly, always the peacemaker, "McGonagall took the parcel to Dumbledore, who put a Screen charm around it and then opened it from across the room. As soon as it was opened, a liquid came spraying out of it everywhere, in a fine mist. If the Screen charm hadn't been in place, anyone standing within three feet would have breathed it in. Luckily the charm also caused the mist to run off and pool around the boundaries of the screen, or it would have evaporated without a trace. They called Severus, who took a sample and determined that it was a Befuddlement Draught."

"Someone sent Harry an airborne potion," Fred asked incredulously, "disguised as a parcel from me and George?"

"Yes." Lupin affirmed, ignoring a succinct swear from Fred. "We think that whomever tried to break into your shop last month was trying to get access to your packaging, and possibly your owls."

"It's possible, too, that someone found out about the seal you've been using and was after that as well." Arthur added.

"Why would anyone want Harry to take a Befuddlement Draught?" Fred asked thoughtfully, more to himself than the others.

"Dumbledore has a theory," Arthur said, giving more information than he might have if Molly were present. "It's quite brilliant, really, because Harry wouldn't have noticed the effects of it tight away, and might never connect the package with his enhanced emotions. Dumbledore thinks it was an attempt to make Harry fail at his Occlumency. He has been doing quite well with it since returning to school, and You-Know-Who could use it to his advantage is he could get inside Harry's head. A Befuddlement Draught could very well have disrupted the concentration necessary for successful Occlumency practice."

"Damn," Fred muttered. "At least Harry was paying attention when we warned him about not opening anything without out the seal. What I'd really like to know is why Percy would be involved."

"We're not sure he was," Kingsley answered. "Mrs. Grist may have thought she saw Percy, but the fact remains that he never showed any signs of being affected by your security system, and he came up clean with the revealing potion I slipped into his tea."

"He may be up to something, but we're not sure it has anything to do with Voldemort," Lupin said, sighing lightly when everyone flinched at the sound of the name. "He may simply be trying to find a way to save Fudge from what seems to be his imminent removal from office; that would explain his getting caught with classified files."

"Something's not right," Fred insisted, shaking his head for emphasis. "If you all are holding back any information just because I'm not a full member of the Order, I want to know what it is."

"That's not it, Fred," his father said. "We simply don't have anymore information to give you. Dumbledore told me to ask you to keep your eyes open for any other odd occurrences, and to report to the Order immediately if you notice anything. We've just sent word, as a matter of fact, of this new development with Carly, though I don't know if he can offer any insight into the matter."

Fred stared at his father inscrutably for a long time before nodding in resignation. He nodded to Lupin and Shacklebolt, and then clapped his father on the shoulder before turning to exit the kitchen. Arthur followed him down the corridor to the front door to have a private word with is son.

"Fred," he began, "I know that you and George are eager to join the Order, but you know your mother won't hear of it."

"It's not about the Order, now, Dad." Fred looked grim. "I won't give up trying to convince you all that we should be allowed in, but now I have Carly to think about. I love her, and I have to ask myself if I'm putting her in danger by being with her. My brother is acting strangely enough to be put on a list of the Order's suspects, the shop's had an attempted break-in, and now Carly's place..."

"I didn't realize that your feelings for her were that strong, son, but I have to say that I don't think she'd be in any less danger if you were to quit seeing her. We're approaching some very dark times, and I don't think anyone is safe anymore. She was attacked right outside your shop, and her flat was almost broken into; I don't see how those incidents could have anything to do with your relationship with her. In fact, I think she's safest when she is with you. If it hadn't been for the charms you'd put on her door, who knows what might have happened?" Arthur offered his opinion and advice, while marveling that his children weren't children anymore. When had that happened?

Fred felt a bit of the weight on his shoulders ease, and he let out a breath he hadn't been aware he's been holding while his father had been speaking. "Thank heaven, because I don't know if I could give her up now. Give my love to mum." He turned and went out the front door, and walked to a nearby alley to apparate home.

**********

Fred slept fitfully; plagued by violent nightmares that he didn't quite remember when he woke, but left him with a vague feeling of trepidation. He rose before the sun knowing that he would not be able to sleep anymore, and showered to wash away the sweat that was rapidly drying on his skin and giving him a chill. The sky was barely tinged with a pale glow as he sat down at his desk and took out a fresh sheet of parchment and quill.

Dear Harry, he began to write, thinking he would ask Harry for his thoughts and suspicions on the matter of the package. The more he thought about what to say, though, the more uncertain he was that it was a good idea to send anything that might give the enemy information. Hadn't Umbridge intercepted Harry's owl last year before she dropped all pretenses and just openly rummaged through all of the students' mail? He dipped his quill in the purple ink that he and Fred were partial to, and wrote; Great catch yesterday. I heard all about it, and am glad you have such a sharp eye. You'll have to write to me soon with all the details. There. That didn't sound too suspicious; anyone who read that much would think he was referring to a Quidditch match. George and I will be sending you a package soon in the usual way; so if you, Ron or Ginny need anything from the shop, send an owl to let us know. Won't say more here, but if you send the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend, we might be able to come and see you all. George says hello. Take care and write soon, your friend, Fred. PS- Is Ron's hair still blue? I can't recall if I sent the antidote for that.

Fred carefully folded the letter and put it into a WWW envelope with the special seal, then sent it off into the strengthening dawn with one of the express owls in the shop. Lee wouldn't be in to open the shop for hours, and so Fred went to check on some of the experimental potions he and George had brewing in the basement, and made sure that there was ample money in the coffer to make change for the day's customers. He had still not been able to shake the feeling of uneasiness that he had woken with, and didn't know what to do about it. He was just heading back up the stairs to his rooms, when he heard Carly's voice calling out from above.

"Fred? Fred, are you there?"

Fred hurried up the stairs, and found Carly's head in the fire. Her hair was mess, and it was obvious that she had been asleep very recently. He kneeled down so that his face was level with hers and could see the beginnings of panic in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"It's Rowan. Something bad had happened to her," She said without preamble.

"What happened?" Fred asked sharply, "Where is she? Where's George?"

"I don't know. I just woke up out of a dead sleep, and I knew something was wrong." She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

Fred didn't stop to ask more, or question how she knew any of this. "I'll be there in less than ten minutes. If something happens before then, go to Eunice, she never sleeps."

She nodded, blinking back her tears, and then withdrew her head from the fire. Fred immediately grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the bowl near the grate and threw it in.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," he called into the flames, and then held his breath for a moment while he stuck his head in. He prayed that there would be a member of the Order handy. Looking around the kitchen, he spotted someone with his head resting on the table, hand curled around a thick, steaming mug. He couldn't tell who it was in the darkened kitchen from his vantage point, so he simply yelled out, "Hey!"

A red head jerked up from the tabletop and stared blearily at the fire. Bill took a moment to focus and register that his brother's head was in the fire, "George."

"It's Fred," he said impatiently, "I need help."

Something in Fred's tone caught Bill's attention, and he squatted down in front of the fire, "What's up?"

"Carly just contacted me and said that Rowan was in trouble. She didn't know how or why, but she said it woke her from a dead sleep, and she's scared. George and Rowan are out somewhere working on a story for her paper."

"Where?" Bill asked, not bothering to question the validity of Fred's story. If Fred was concerned enough to contact the order, it was important.

"The Malfoy mansion in Wiltshire," Fred sighed. "But they weren't supposed to get close. George took Ron's Omnioculars with him so that they could keep their distance. They were supposed to be camping about a quarter of a mile east of the estate."

"When's the last time you talked to George?" Bill asked. His mouth set in a stern line, and Fred knew that his brother was taking this seriously.

"Yesterday morning," Fred answered. "When they left. They aren't due back until this evening at the earliest, but I don't like it. Carly's not the hysterical type; she might have some sort of connection with Rowan that I don't know about."

"I'll call out some of the other members of the Order and we'll check it out. Where are you going to be?" Bill promised with a nod.

"I'll be at Carly's. It's the block of flats on Sutton Place, by St. Mungo's fourth floor, flat number 426."

"Right. I'll let you know as soon as we find out anything," Bill said briskly then turned and left the kitchen.

Fred pulled his head from the fire and dusted the ashes out of his hair as he stood up. He grabbed his cloak, and took a look around for anything he might have forgotten. His eyes alighted on the picnic hamper he had yet to fill, and turned away; there wouldn't be picnic today, her feared. He hoped that was the worst thing that would happen today as he left for Carly's flat.