*Third person*

No one knew what to feel when Bill and Fleur came back. When they said Mad-eye was dead. When they said they saw Willow falling through the sky. Too high in the air to survive – even for Willow. No one would ever forget the look on George’s face when he was told.

Nobody seemed to know what to do. Tonks was crying silently; George seemed to be frozen, unable to comprehend the moment. Hagrid, who had sat down in the corner where he had most space, was dabbing at his eyes with his tablecloth-sized handkerchief. The rest of them were void of emotion.

Bill walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky and some glasses. “Here,” he said, and with a wave of his wand he sent twelve full classes soaring through the room to each of them, holding the thirteenth aloft. “Mad-Eye,”

“Mad-Eye,” they all said, and drank.

He refilled the glasses with another flick of his wand and Ginny found herself speaking. “To Willow: The Other Potter.”

“Willow.” Everyone said and downed their glasses.

Harry explained that Willow had jumped on top of Voldemort to save him and Hagrid, but he couldn’t get half-way through it without breaking down. Hermione could be found sitting near the doorway, her face in her hands, Ron’s arm wrapped tightly around her, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

Fred was sitting by George’s side, stunned, as George looked as though he himself had died.

Then Lupin stood up, and every eye was on him.

“There’s work to do, I can ask Kingsley whether—”

“No,” said Bill at once, “I’ll do it, I’ll come.”

“Where are you going?” said Tonks and Fleur together.

“Their bodies,” said Lupin. “We need to recover them.”

“Can’t it—?” began Mrs. Weasley with an appealing look at Bill.

“Wait?” said Bill. “Not unless you’d rather the Death Eaters took them?”

Nobody spoke. Lupin and Bill said good bye and left.

As the days began to pass, the bodies weren’t recovered. There was no hope. No luck. It was now rare for laughter to be heard inside the boundaries of the usually cheerful house. Conversations between Harry, Ron and Hermione seemed to be incomplete. There was no one to comment random irrelevant things. There was no one to make things seem that little bit less serious. Everything seemed irreparably sad.

Soxy was sitting outside, waiting for Willow to return, not knowing that she never would. Never knowing.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice was sad as she looked down at Willow’s discarded trunk. She’d opened it, finally. “Harry, Ron, come here.”

The boys walked curiously into the room, but Harry’s eyes brimmed with tears when he saw what Hermione was doing.

“We promised not to open it.” He said frantically. It was as though when her trunk was open, and when they went through everything, it would be real. Harry was still half-expecting Willow to come barging through the door. “Put it back. PUT IT BACK!”

“Wait,” Hermione said softly. “Just listen,” Hermione read the bad poem Willow had written aloud, but it seemed it was less of a poem, and more of a collection of thoughts.

“Sometimes it’s just your time to go

You don’t know that you know but you know

Sometimes everyone must see

You just need to be to be gone from this place

You need to be erased

And then replaced

BUT OTHERTIMES YOU NEED TO EAT CAKE

BECAUSE OTHERWISE YOU DON’T REALISE YOU’RE AWAKE

I FUCKING LOVE CAKE YEAH IT’S AWESOME AND SHIT YEAH

I CAN’T RHYME YEAH, BUT I’M A FUCKING TREE

FUCK YEAH I’M A TREE

MY BRO IS HARRY

BANANANANANA NANA NANANA BANANA NANANA MAKE YOUR BODY SING

LETS GET DOWN TO BUISNESS TO DEFEAT THE HUNS

BECAUSE WHAT DO WE WANT? A GIRL WORTH FIGHTING FOR!

I’m scared we’re all going to die. I know I am. I’ve always known. It’s a matter of when.

Harry, you can defeat Mouldyshorts. I know you can. You’ll win because in every story, good triumphs over evil...except in real life...this is real life...DON’T LISTEN TO HER, HARRY YOU WILL WIN!

I don’t know who her is, but she seems pretty cool.

RONALD! WHEN I HEARD YOUR NAME WAS RON, I THOUGHT IT WAS SHORT FOR RONALDO! RONALDOPOLOUS! You’ll always find your way in the end, I know you will. You always do don’t you? I know you had guidance from Hagrid, and Harry, and this awesome bitch called Willow, but I know you can make the right choices in the end. Because you’re Ron and shit.

You’re not shit, you’re just Ron.

But Ron isn’t all you are.

What?

Hermione! Baby I LOVE YOU! AND I HOPE YOU AND RON GROW OLD AND HAVE BABIES! CALL ONE Willow! NO! CALL HER TREE! NO! CALL HER MUSHROOM PINA COLADA! Oh my god PENIS! You need to give them a level head yeah, I’m not there so you need to. Jokes jokes, you do that anyway. But don’t be stupid. OR you can if you want, I’m not like telling you what to do or anything. I love you.

Penis.

George! Georgie boy! I love you, even if you don’t love me, I love you.

What am I even talking about?

BINARY BINARY BINARY BINARY!

I’m sorry!

Voldemort is allergic to peanut butter.

THE END

Hermione choked out the last two words and burst into tears. And somehow, the three of them were crying and hugging.

“Maybe she isn’t gone though,” Ron pondered. “They never found her – her body. Maybe she’s hiding or something.”

“Ron –“ Hermione started, shaking her head.

“She wouldn’t do that to us. If she was alive, she would have come back already.” Harry said earnestly.

“Lupin said it though, he said she’s got that trace on her or something. Maybe she doesn’t want you to get arrested ‘cause you’re underage.” Ron said thoughtfully. “’Cause the ministry would use it against you, even if it wasn’t you.”

“You still have hope.” Said Harry, looking up with bloodshot eyes. “I’ve forgotten what that feels like.”

---

On the eve of Harry’s birthday, Madam and Monsieur Delacour had arrived along with Fleur’s sister, Gabrielle. Lupin had stopped by with Tonks and everyone had finished dinner, they majority of the party sat in the sitting room, making small talk, whilst Tonks and Mrs. Weasley washed up the dinner dishes.

It was a rather quiet night, especially for Harry Potter who sat by himself in the corner. He would had felt excited about the prospect of turning seventeen, even if it had only meant he could go and kill Lord Voldemort, until he lost his sister. Nothing it seemed would ever be right in the world again.

First his parents, then Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore... and then the only thing he could hold onto had slipped from his fingers. His own sister had died to protect him, and Harry was living in guilt.

A loud crash from outside, and a bombardment of golden sparks startled the whole room.

Lupin and Mr. Weasley exchanged fierce looks; raising their wands they began to head outside. Something brushed past Lupin and he forced the boy back inside.

“No. Harry. You’re not of age yet.” Lupin told him.

“In a couple of hours –“Harry said angrily.

“That’s exactly what the ministry wants.” Lupin said. “They will arrest you Harry. Stay here.” he threw Harry at the Weasley twins who restrained him.

Mr. Weasley and Remus Lupin walked outside almost nervously; wand tips lit and held aloft.  Mr. Weasley let out a strangled cry.

 “Lumos.” he said softly and the tip of his wand lit.

“He’s here. Mad-eye. He’s dead.” He shouted back to the house. He felt sick as he stared into the blank face of his friend, though, he could not drag his eyes off it. The magical eye that always sat in Moody’s face was gone, and he was left looking bare and wrong. His skin was pale and ice-cold, making his mangled face look worse than usual.

“But who-?” Mr Weasley started, but Lupin held up a hand to silence her.

 Glaring through the darkness, Lupin too, lit his wand, but it was hardly enough to light the way on the moonless night.

But then there was a voice. It was hoarse and frightful.

“What was the first thing I ever said to you?” it croaked.

Mr. Weasley pivoted and his mouth fell open, it was as though his heart too, had stopped.

“Thank you. You said Thank you.” he breathed.

The girl stood a few metres from him; her wand pointed at his chest; blood stained clothes; scarily white in the face; she was clutching her side where blood was still dripping. She looked like something in a horror movie, but this was no horror movie. This was life. This was her reality.

“Willow.” Lupin said, taking a step forward.

“I-is everyone okay?” she said, sounding terrified. Her breathing was heavy and uneven.

“Their fine. All fine.” Lupin said to her. Relief flooded Willow’s face for a moment before her knees gave way. Lupin rushed forwards and caught her, lowered her to the ground.

“I’ve got you.” he breathed.

“I – I don’t know if I have the –the tr-trace or not.” Willow said, her voice shook violently. Tears seemed to threaten to burst. “I couldn’t stay there – and – and I couldn’t leave him there. I-I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s alright now, you’re safe.” Lupin said reassuringly, as the girl shook brutally from head to toe.

“No, move! Let me go!” a voice shouted from the house. There were heavy footsteps as though someone was running, and then Willow’s brother, Harry sat beside her, shaking.

“Harry.” Willow said softly.

“But you were – You can’t – how? – what happened.” Millions of thoughts ran through Harry’s head, and they all tumbled out in the wrong order; all at once.

“I’m secretly a zombie.” Willow whispered. Harry gave a weird hiccup laugh and started to sob uncontrollably.  Willow pulled him towards herself and rested her chin on his head as he cried. “It’s alright.” She whispered. “It’s okay.”

“-We were all so worried-” floated a voice from the house towards Willow.

“Hakuna Matata.” She smiled, she laughed, and then for the first time, she was aware of the shooting pain in her left arm; where her wrist was broken; she could feel the deep cuts in her back and right side; her right forearm felt as if it were on fire; she realised that her whole body was soaked in her own blood.

The memories of the last four days, which had been forgotten in shock, were slowly coming back to her. It was as though she was reliving the pain and torture again. She still fought the tears as her body twitched. She was brought inside on a stretcher. There was a collective gasp as her friends realised she was alive.

Willow opened her eyes.

“Hey you.” A voice said, a face swam into view.

“George,” Willow smiled a bit.

“You look like shit.” He said.

“You’re one to talk.” She mumbled. “Your ear-?”

“It’s gone.” He smiled at her.

“Too sexy for your ear.” She said vaguely.

“Yeah.” He grinned.

And as they looked into each other’s eyes, Willow felt no pain, George felt no fear. In that moment everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt. In that moment, the pair could have taken on the world.

But moments pass, and for the second time, the pain shot through Willow and this time she screamed.

“She’s losing a lot of blood.” Lupin told Mrs Weasley as they moved her stretcher into the kitchen.

“Weeoohhweeohh.” Willow made the sounds of a muggle ambulance because...Well, she was Willow.

She was injected with something and fell into sleep.