Fred Weasley

The sticky, sweet smell of cotton candy and popcorn hung in the air. The Ferris wheels spun lazily in their eternal circle, and children's laughter echoed over the heads of adults trying to forget—at least for a day.

She stood by the wooden fence, watching the carousel spin around and around. The world was slow to make sense of it. After everything that had happened, the magic seemed too loud. Too dangerous. Too real.

Here, among the flashing lights and funny masks, no one knew her name. No one looked into her eyes with expectation. And that was almost freedom.

"Does this Ferris wheel look down on you too?" a voice said nearby.

She turned around. A red-haired guy with a slight smirk stood next to her, holding two ice cream cones. He handed her one. Just like that.

“It’s probably got a personality,” she replied, not taking the ice cream but not turning away either.

"Like you," he winked. "I'm Fred." The name seemed to echo dully somewhere in my chest. Somewhere where everything still hurt.

— …And you’re giving ice cream to strangers?

— Only to those who look at the carousels as if they can fix anything.

She took the glass: - Thank you, I...