Who. Jo Shrewsbury, brief mentions of Erin Page, & the deceased. What. Jo discovers that The Burrow isn't as safe as she believed it to be. Where. Ottery St. Catchpole, The Burrow. When. Just a half hour post this. Warnings. Sadness.
A thick cloud of dirt blew around the figures of Jo Shrewsbury and Erin Page. After meeting the younger reincarnate at her exact location - and releasing one or two charmed, harmless fireworks out into the underground - Jo apparated the both of them to the safest place she knew: The Burrow. "Here we are, safe and sound!" Jo said, brushing a few specks from her shoulder. This place was so familiar, and yet brand new. She could feel a wave of nostalgia roll over her as she looked her old home over in the distance, and she wondered if the reincarnated sister walking at her side adorned the same wondrous, comforting warmth in her stomach.
Paul was just inside, Jo just knew it, probably cozying up to Alex. She couldn't wait to see him again. If Jo hadn't known the truth of it all, she would have said it had been years since she was last able to throw her arms around Paul's gargantuan shoulders and tell him how stupid he looked with that haircut of his. The thought brought a soft smile to her face. She could see his own in her head, hear him asking what took her so ruddy long.
Her smile quickly faded as they reached the front door. It was thrown from its hinges entirely and thrown backwards, lost somewhere inside of the house. Splinters now replaced the smoothness of the door's frame, and Jo's first instinct was to pull the wand from the deepest pocket of her jeans. She hesitated - Erin's safety was her priority at the moment. "I want you to stay right here. Keep your wand out, and if you see any sign of anyone? Absolutely anyone? You call me, yeah?" With a firm nod, Jo turned back to enter The Burrow.
The old Weasley home no longer felt warm. There was a sliver of chill that seeped through Jo's spine, and resided permanently beneath the goosepimples on her skin - this wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. "Paul?" She called out, her boots stepping onto shards of broken glass and damaged remains. "Alex?" Jo swallowed something dry in her throat. Who had come into The Burrow? Who possessed the audacity to break her family home this way? What had any of them done so recently to upset someone this much?
After spotting the back of Alex's head at the kitchen table, she lowered her wand and let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank God! Are you lot all r-" She stopped in her tracks after hearing a sudden squish underneath her weight. There, just against the carpet began a trail of blood, still slightly damp, that led to the still body of Alex Morgan. Jo looked up, green eyes wide and suddenly panicked. "No," she tried to breathe, but the word seemed inaudible, unable to escape her throat.
"No, no, Alex. Alex?!" She gasped dryly, her words choking like a hand kept itself clenched around her lungs. Jo ran this time, blood leaving its stain against the leather on her feet. It wasn't until she reached the table that the youngest Shrewsbury could no longer maintain her composure. Tied to the table, limbs spread out across the wood, was Paul. He and Alex were no longer cozying up to one another, they were no longer lost in their newfound bliss - they were empty, mangled, and bloody.
"PAUL!?" Jo slammed her wand in the directions of every knot restraining the two bodies, each splitting apart with a sickening crack. "Paul, no, Paul, look at me. Paul!" She set her wand on the table, and sat on the side of it to cup her brother's back. Jo brought him upright, his body already cold and devoid of all of its usual life. "Paul? Please. You can't be- you're not. Wake up," she pleaded, "Paul, please. This isn't fair. You were supposed to- Paulie, please."
Carefully, she set him to the table once more. Picking up her wand again, Jo pointed it at Paul's chest. Her own heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her eyes stung, but still she began to slap the wand into his torso. It could work, couldn't it? What was the point of having magic if it couldn't bring back her brother? "WAKE UP!" She sobbed, the sudden warmth of tears sprawling down each of her cheeks. They dripped off, one by one, and plopped onto Paul's body. "No. Paul, it should have been me. It was always supposed to be me, wasn't it? That's what was written - that's not - it was always me! I'm the one that goes first, remember? IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!" She shouted hoarsely toward the ceiling of The Burrow, throwing the wand into the nearest wall. Her arms wrapped themselves around Paul again and she held him close. His head rolled against her shoulder - he was gone. Magic couldn't revive him.
She would never hear his laugh again. She would never watch him smile. Paul was dead, and for some reason, for some point Jo couldn't fathom -