The meeting itself turned out to be rather boring. Calliope sat in between the twins listening patiently to the adults discussing schedules for guard duty and Voldemort's recent movements.

"Who knew that the anti-Voldemort movement could be so boring," mused Fred as the three returned to the flat.

"I thought it would be much more exciting," agreed George.

"Everything has its logistical side," said Calliope, "even war needs planning."

George rolled his eyes and Fred shook his head, sharing a private joke between themselves. Calliope struggled to focus on this, however, as the whispers had grown louder in her head. She tried to push away her discomfort, fearing that Fred would notice it and that she would have to sink further into the shadowy world of her mind to interpret what they were telling her. She knew that she would have to do this anyway, but alone, not when the twins were both watching.

"I'm going to go to bed," yawned George, stretching his arms above his head, "night," he said to Calliope, before heading to the room that he and Fred shared.

Fred stared at Calliope with his head cocked to one side and a small frown visible on his face. Calliope struggled to focus on the present as the whispers grew louder and Fred closed the gap between them, pulling her hands into his. This contact and the electric spark through her body that came with it jolted her back to reality.

Fred looked deep into her eyes, running his thumb over the back of her hand. "They're loud aren't they?"

Calliope nodded in response, struggling to hear his words above the cacophony of noise in her head.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Fred asked.

Calliope screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, "I need to listen."

It pained Fred to see Calliope like this, her pupils were dilated so that her pale green irises were almost gone and she had a scrunched-up look of extreme concentration as she fought to remain present. It wasn't often that it got this bad, in fact, Fred wasn't sure he'd ever seen her this bad. Something bad was about to happen, could already be happening. 

Fred didn't want her to go, to have to venture into the depths of her mind to unravel whatever events were to unfold. He wanted to stay with her and fight the whispers away together, but he knew Calliope wouldn't have it.

Reluctantly, Fred kissed her forehead, before dropping her hands and allowing her to retreat to the solitude of her bedroom with only the whispers of the dead for company.

As soon as the door snapped shut behind her, Calliope tumbled into bed, wrapping herself tightly in blankets as if to protect the world from her visions. She pressed her hands over her ears and gave in.

********

It was a sleepless night for all three occupants of the flat. Calliope's mind almost transported her to the Department of Mysteries with the vivid description of the events that the whispers gave her. She fought to return to the world so that she could go and help, but she couldn't move.

Calliope's churning emotions kept Fred awake and his tossing and turning kept George awake. Fred had just enough sense to scramble for some earplugs, toss some to George and jam them into his own ears before Calliope's scream ripped through the night.