if these wings could fly
Trigger Warnings: Death Word Count: 1,047
It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
But then again, when was it ever supposed to end like this?
The night was crisp and cool, a perfect autumn night. At least, that was how a passing Muggle had described it. “Crisp and cool? Is she describing the weather or an apple?” Gideon muttered under his breath, the faintest wisps of which were visible. “Perfect,” Fabian snorted, lowering his voice after this outburst, “we can only hope to Merlin it’s a perfect night.” They were on patrol in the heart of Muggle London. The Death Eaters were getting bolder with the ferocity of their attacks on Muggle settlements, and it seemed as though they were leading up to a big display of power. Naturally, the Order weren’t going to allow that to happen. Nearly everyone who was able to was out tonight, though that hardly felt like enough. There were some times that the feelings of doubt came creeping in, but Fabian was quick to push those out. It had to be enough. The Order had to be enough. For Molly, for his nephews, for wizardkind, for Muggles. They had to be enough.
A high-pitched scream and an urgent smack from Gideon shook him from his internal monologue. Fabian nearly rushed forward, but a look from Gideon stopped him in his tracks. They were truly identical twins. Looks were obviously the main factor, but they were fairly identical in personality as well. Both loud and boisterous, easygoing and adventurous. Both Gryffindors to a fault. Where they differed was in their intuition: while Fabian was reckless, always ready to dive in headfirst, Gideon was infinitely more cautious, more wary of traps and distractions. On occasion, rather than calculate the risk, Gideon found himself deferring to Fabian’s spontaneity. And sometimes, Fabian ignored the gut feeling that was telling him to blast first, ask questions later, in order to listen to Gideon’s intuition. Together, they made a damn-near-perfect team.
Damn-near being the all-too-important qualifier. There’s no telling what would have happened if Fabian had won that silent standoff. He might have rushed into that alley to find out that a Muggle bringing in their cat had been set off the Caterwauling Charm. This would have given him the element of surprise, which meant it would have been a one-on-one duel, and Fabian might’ve had a better chance at survival. But it would also have put Fabian’s back to his attacker, and some distance between him and Gideon, which were two things he avoided at all costs.
This is merely speculation, though, because Fabian did not win their silent standoff. Gideon’s desire to stay back and wait won out, and Fabian did not argue. It took but a moment to realize a trap had been sprung. This moment was all it took for Fabian and Gideon to stand back to back, wands at the ready. It was as if magnets had been activated, the efficiency at which they created this formation. Since they received their wands, ten years prior, this was the formation they preferred when dueling. Gideon was far better at protective spells (go figure), while Fabian chose to blast everything in sight; not to mention, going back to back eliminated blind spots and decreased the likelihood of an unwanted surprise.
In this same moment, more Death Eaters apparated into the area. While 4-2 hardly seemed like a balanced fight, the twins were never the type to back down from a challenge. They had fought in worse and faired, so this would be no different. Despite the late hour, or perhaps because of it, many of the nearby Muggles had come out of their homes to see what all the ruckus was about. Without saying a word, both Prewett boys knew they had to get this fight away from the Muggles. Collateral damage wasn’t an option here. As Gideon threw protective charms at the row of homes and Fabian threw jinx after hex after curse at the Death Eaters, they moved as one. Like a well-oiled machine, it seemed like the Death Eaters were unable to throw a wrench into it.
Until they could. The hiccup came once they had cleared the Muggle residences and the battle had resituated itself in a dark, empty park. The only lights were the colorful jets caused by spells flying left and right. Without warning, a fifth Death Eater had thrown himself into the mix and disrupted the rhythm. A reshuffling of the deck. The other four were still masked, still still dangerous despite their anonymity. But Fabian immediately recognized this newcomer as Antonin Dolohov. All the more dangerous. Gideon had long since switched to a more offensive plan of attack, but it wasn’t making a difference. At best, the Prewett twins were holding their own.
And then they weren’t. It was like time had sped up impossibly fast before freezing altogether. No sooner did Fabian see the green light leave Dolohov’s wand was his brother, his twin, his better half, on the ground. Fabian let out an ungodly, inhuman scream and charged at Dolohov. He wasn’t an Auror, he had never been instructed not to use Unforgivable Curses, and he had never been given clearance to use them due to the war. But at this moment in time, it was like he had been training with them all his life. Crucio was the last word to leave Fabian Prewett’s lips. As soon as his curse hit Dolohov’s chest, two of his comrades sent the killing curse simultaneously.
The Prewett twins left this earth as they had come in: side by side, kicking and screaming, and only minutes apart. The Muggle papers would report two deaths due to gang violence, unaware of how many lives had been saved that night.
Molly Weasley would never forget the brothers she loved more than life itself. From that night on, she squeezed her children a little tighter when she told them she loved them. Especially Fred and George. Through them, their uncles survived. One more piece of Fabian Prewett lived on: his most prized possession, his gold watch, which Molly gave to Harry Potter upon his coming of age. He never had the heart to ask where the dent came from; it was from the night he died.