No Laughing Matter

Chapter twenty-four

George lay in the unfamiliar bed in the room he'd been given by Suzette, and stared blankly at the ceiling. He guessed that Bill and Charlie were probably still awake as well, in the next room, discussing everything that had happened. George knew that Charlie wouldn't' be able to rest until he was told the whole story, but that was a job that Bill could handle. Sleep felt as if it was still a long way off, even though he hadn't had any for the past - he didn't know how long. It seemed like days. The other bed in the room was made neatly, and he wondered how long it would be until Fred was released from St. Mungo's. The sun was only a couple of hours from making its appearance on the horizon. Today hadn't even really begun, and yet he'd already lost a brother, and nearly lost two others, fought in a duel with Death Eaters, shed tears of grief, knocked himself unconscious, been treated at St. Mungo's, and arrived at his childhood home to find it utterly ruined. He wondered what the rest of the day would bring; it seemed as if his entire world had been redefined overnight.

He wondered what would become of the shop now; would it ever seem like a good idea to pull pranks and sell trick sweets again? He honestly didn't know the answer to that. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had been his and Fred's life-long dream, and they had made it a reality less than a year ago. What else could they really do? He and Fred were determined to do their part for the Order, but that wouldn't earn them a living. They were supposed to have had a talk today, to discuss everything that they had on their minds of late, but now that would have to be put on hold until things calmed down a little. With a jaw-cracking yawn, George thanked the Powers That Be that the things hadn't turned out worse than they had (and they could have been worse), and prayed that the worst was behind them for now. As the first signs of sunrise shot the sky with pink and gold, George's eyes felt heavy-lidded at last, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Fred woke up from a strange dream where he had been wandering aimlessly through the deserted streets of Diagon Alley, searching for any other sign of human life, but not finding any. As he opened his eyes, and all of the memories of the previous night came back to him, he thought, 'It doesn't take a genius to interpret that dream, now does it?' He was still tired, but gingerly sat up to take a look around him.

The first sight that met his gaze was that of Carly, still in her lime green smock, with dark smudges of exhaustion shadowing her eyes. She was fast asleep; lying facing him, on the chaise that was shoved between his bed, and the other one where is his mother lay sleeping. He had no idea how long it had been since she had finally gotten the opportunity to rest, and so he was careful not to wake her as he swung his feet off of the narrow bed and onto the floor. He was dress only in pajama bottoms, and his shoulder was wrapped in a fresh bandage that he didn't remember having changed. He had a pressing need to find a bathroom, and so he prayed that his legs would support him as he got to his feet. He felt very weak, but not completely unable to walk. He shuffled to the doorway and looked down the corridor each way to see if there was a sign that would direct him, and luckily found one only about halfway down the hall to his right. He had just started to make his way slowly out, when his father rounded a corner, and spotted him.

"Let me help you," he said. It must have been pretty obvious where he had been heading, because his Dad simply walked him to the door of the bathroom and told him he would wait for him in the hall.

As they made their way slowly back to the tiny room where Carly and Molly still slept, Fred asked his father, "Have you slept at all?"

"Not nearly enough," he admitted tiredly. "But I did manage to get about three hours in. Things at the ministry are in an uproar, as you can imagine, and I needed to check in with Madam Bones."

"Where's Mr. Sharpe?" Fred asked, speaking of the newest Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He had taken over the department when Madam Bones had taken over as acting Minister for Magic.

"He was one of the ones lost at Azkaban last night," Arthur said grimly, helping Fred back to his bed. "The Minister has asked me to take his place. I told her about our own crisis, and she's given me twenty-four hours to come to a decision and report back to work."

"Twenty-four hours!" Fred exclaimed as quietly as he could manage, "After all that's..."

"I know, Fred," Arthur said calmly. "But we lost a lot of important people last night, and the Ministry needs to get back on track as quickly and as smoothly as possible to prevent a wave of panic all over the country."

"You're going to take the job?" Fred asked.

"I intend to, yes. Unless Molly has any strong objection, of course."

"I'm proud of you dad," Fred answered seriously, after only a moment's pause. "I'll do everything I can to help out with the things that you're going to be too tied up to take care of. We all will."

"Thank you, Fred," Arthur smiled softly. "I know you will."

A Healer entered the room just then, and frowned down at the sight of Carly, asleep in a patient's room, but said nothing but "I told her to go home."

"She wanted to be here with her family," Fred said quietly and firmly.

He looked at Fred appraisingly and nodded. It seemed to the Healer, that despite the fact that their hair color matched; there was more than a family bond at work between his young apprentice and the man on the bed. "As long as she gets some quality rest, I won't complain. She was asleep on her feet." He turned to Arthur then, and said, "Your wife doesn't appear to have anything physically wrong with her. She can be discharged when she wakes up, and I'll write up an order for some more Sleeping Draught in case she needs it later."

"I won't need it," Molly said from her bed. She was sitting up and looked alert and well rested; her eyes were still haunted, but clear and direct as she looked at the Healer and her husband. "I don't want to be drugged."

"Mrs. Weasley," the Healer addressed her calmly. "I'm Healer Jonah Swift. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling well," she answered. "Just sad."

"I think that is something to be expected," the Healer nodded, making a note on his chart, "But I'll write up an order, just in case."

Arthur took the parchment from the Healer before Molly could protest, and thanked him. The Healer then turned the page on his chart and looked to the other bed. "Frederick?"

"Fred will do," he answered with a scowl. Only his Mum used his full first name, and only when he was in seriously deep trouble with her. "When can I get out of here?"

"You will be our guest for at least another day, I'm afraid," the Healer chuckled. "It appears that you were hit with a Reductor Curse, and it's done quite a bit of damage. There is a lot of muscle and tissue damage that's going to take some time to repair; even then you may experience some lost strength and dexterity in your left arm and hand."

"But will I be able to play the piano?" Fred asked with a straight face as his parents rolled their eyes to the ceiling.

"My first inclination is to say that, yes, you should be able to play. It's a bit too soon to be able to tell for sure." Healer Swift said with a furrowed brow.

"That's great," Fred said with a smile. "I've never been able to play before!"

Arthur and Molly groaned while the Healer paused in the act of writing something in his notes. He looked up a Fred with an uncertain expression, before saying, "Weasley.... Weasley; that sounds familiar."

"He and his brother run a joke shop in Diagon Alley," Arthur supplied helpfully.

"Ah! Yes, of course. I've had the pleasure of unknowingly sampling some of your wares at the hand of a good friend of mine. I'm still finding yellow feathers all over my study."

Fred smiled proudly. Not only was he proud that a virtual stranger had recognized the Weasley name, but that his parents had both managed something resembling a weak chuckle.

"So he has to stay another day?" Molly asked. She was sounding considerably more like her old self.

"Yes," came the reply. "He'll need the wound cleaned, treated and dressed at least twice more today. In fact, someone should be coming in to take care of that momentarily. We'll make an evaluation in the morning as to whether or not he should be released."

"Sorry, but I don't want to stay here. My family needs me, and I have a business that needs..." Fred began, but was interrupted by his mother.

"Fred, your family needs you to get well. Now don't argue about it; George or Lee can see to the shop for a couple of days just fine without you there."

"But what about...?" he was cut off again mid-sentence.

"No arguments, Fred. I mean it! I will sit here personally and make sure you do as you're told if you don't agree right now to listen to Healer Swift." Molly's tone brooked no argument as she stood and came to shove him back down onto the narrow mattress. "Besides, Carly will be here."

Fred opened his mouth to protest once more, just for good form, but Molly silenced him with a stern look. With a last glance at Carly, sleeping soundly through the entire exchange, he relented with a sulky, "Yes ma'am." Inwardly he thought to himself that acting petulant and stubborn was one way to get his mother's mind onto something other than her grief. He knew that she dealt best with a crisis by keeping herself busy. While he doubted that she would want to work in the shop as she had before when Percy had been listed as a Death Eater, he thought that having her family around her to boss around would work their magic on her in time.