It didn't help that Charlie had yet to speak to Fred. He felt like he had to talk to Fred, before he could make any rash decisions on either of his brother's behavior. He understood Fred's anger about Victoire. He wasn't vocal about the situation, but he had noticed that Bill seemed to be very apathetic to his daughter and his supposed girlfriend. He didn't know what made Bill suddenly realize this as well, but it was a nice change. But for some reason...he felt as if Bill was still different. Something felt off. He didn't think on that much though, his thoughts were on Fred.
Why did Fred feel it necessary to snap at Bill in the way he had? He had been unable to see the entry but from what Bill told him, it just seemed out of line. Perhaps Fred was just having a rough night? Or perhaps he was affected by Ronald.
Either way, they couldn't go snapping at one another or hurting one someones feelings. Bill wasn't likely to stand up for himself and say anything, which was different from how Bill used to be. But Charlie had no problem's telling his siblings they were out of line.
But what if Fred wasn't?
That question kept popping into his head and he groaned, slamming his head back against the wall. He decided to push the thought as best as he could away until he spoke with Fred. He was willing to admit he didn't know enough to make an informed decision. But in the case of Ronald...if he got his hands on Ron, he was going to be putting his little brother into some serious pain. He didn't know why he was so angry about the content of the journal. It made no sense to him. But he was angry, as if Ron had done something truly wrong. He chalked it up to the fact that the entry had made his Mum cry that morning. That was where his anger had to stem from, right?
Or the fact that his brother had abandoned them for some silly quest. He wished now that Ron wasn't such a follower and couldn't help but think this was all Harry's fault. Maybe if Harry and Ron and Hermione returned home, gave themselves up, they'd be forgiven. Maybe.
But for some reason, there was a little voice in the back of his head that said they wouldn't. Should they?
He just didn't know.
He pushed his chair back, picking up his pint glass to get another. On his way towards the front he came to a stop, noticing now a woman who needed her glass filled up. "Like me to get you another, love?" He asked. He seemed agitated but he was extending a kindness to her.