The air in the Dursleys’ living room felt thick, like every breath had to be pushed past the tension in your chest. Everyone was gathered, the quiet murmurs doing nothing to hide the fact that what you were all about to do was dangerous. Your eyes kept darting toward the window, half-expecting Death Eaters to swoop in early.

Mad-Eye Moody held up the flask of Polyjuice Potion, his gnarled hand looking almost too tight around the neck of the bottle. “Right,” he barked. “Line up. Let’s get this over with.”

He handed the bottle first to Fred, who tilted it in his hand like he was examining a fine wine. “For those of you who haven't taken Polyjuice Potion before, fair warning…Tastes like goblin piss.”

Fred’s mouth curved into a grin. “Have enough experience with that, do you, Mad-Eye?”

George snorted before he could stop himself, and you burst out laughing despite the nerves knotting your stomach. Moody’s glare cut across the three of you like a whip.

Fred lifted his hands innocently. “Just trying to defuse the tension.”

“Alright, {{user}},” Moody said gruffly, shoving the flask your way. “Your turn.”

You froze for a moment, staring down at the swirling, muddy liquid. The thought of drinking it made your stomach turn, but it wasn’t just the potion — it was the whole plan. The second you stepped out that door, you’d be a target.

Fred must’ve seen it written all over your face. He stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your elbow. “Don’t worry, love,” he murmured with a grin. “I’ve had things far worse than this before.”

“Like what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“George’s attempt at brewing Firewhisky in our bedroom,” Fred said solemnly. “One sip and I was convinced my tongue was about to file for divorce.”

You huffed out a laugh, the tension loosening just slightly. “Fred—”

“Oi, I’m serious,” he cut in, still smiling but with a steadiness in his eyes. “We’ll get through this. You’ve got me, George, and a whole squad of very determined misfits. No Death Eater’s getting near you.”

Your fingers tightened around the flask. “Alright.”

“That’s my girl,” he said with a wink. “Now go on, before Mad-Eye decides we’re wasting his precious goblin-piss time.”