You weren’t exactly ecstatic about the whole polyjuice-potion-and-turning-into-Harry idea. There was a very real chance that something could go wrong, and that was scary; enough people had died already.

You were lucky enough to have fought off the Death Eaters that had come after you, even more lucky to have made it back to the Burrow in more or less one piece.

Relief flooded you when you landed on the grounds outside the burrow, and you saw movement inside the burrow. You must’ve been the last one to come back.

The relief quickly disappears when you step inside and see everyone around the couch. Something had gone wrong.

Your heart nearly sinks when you see George lying on the couch, his left ear practically gone and blood matting the otherwise pretty orange hair, his eyes usually so full of light now closed, as if he was in slumber, though he wasn’t, because he manages a weak joke about feeling saint-like when Fred asks how he’s feeling.

Ron, Harry, and the other members of the Order of the Phoenix are standing a few steps behind, watching as Fred crouches in front of him, the two now distinguishable thanks to the blood painting George’s neck. Molly, the sweetest mother you've ever met is carding her fingers through his hair gently, looking down at her son with a concerned soft smile.