"Fred..." George said, his voice cracking. He swallowed. His face was absolutely hollow. Broken. "He started to fade. The first time they had us touch each other... that was the day it started. There was shame and guilt, at what we had to do. I tried to forget it every night. Put it out of mind. Think about anything else. Before then, we tried to tell each other jokes sometimes at night to make each other laugh, to try to forget what we'd done, what'd been done to us. We had to whisper, so the others wouldn't hear us. But after that night he stopped laughing. I never heard him laugh again. He got quieter and quieter until even I couldn't reach him. He wasn't eating. I tried to help him. I saved most of my food for him but he wouldn't take it. He wasn't there anymore. I tried to be there for him, tried to tell him we'd get out, but there was no way to even try, because they had us without magic and chained to each other, and fed us just enough so that we weren't starving, but we didn't have a lot of energy to begin with."