Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters associated with this story. Thank You, J.K. Rowling, for the amazing stories, for which this story could not have been here without. I have based the story like the war had happened in Fred and George's 5th year/ Harry Potter's 3th year, so don't be confused with the dates in the story. Please keep reading and reviewing!
- weasleygirl1999
Chapter 1: Life After Tomorrow
George's Point Of View
I remember the day he, Fred, died. I remember the look on his face. I remember the way I felt. I feel the same way every day now. I know Fred can't reply to what I'm saying, but the least he can do is listen. Today is a new day, and I am so not ready to take it on.
Our usually extremely busy house now feels like a ghost town. No one is here today, everyone went shopping somewhere. Glass shattered, wood splintered, papers torn, and our prank stuff scatted on the floors. Some of the boards on the stairs are cracked, but still usable. On the other hand, our room isn't better. Broken desks, broken bookshelves, cracked windows, and a depressing feeling floods the place. I know things are hard, but they're destined to get better.
Today I wake up and say,
Morning, Fred!
But then I realize that Fred isn't there anymore, I get up and walk in straight from my bed to Fred's desk which houses a notebook which reads:
Note to self: Need to make some more Skiving Snackboxes.
This is the last thing hand-written thing I see of Fred's. I walk out of the untidy room and step into the bathroom. On the left is a sink, which now leaked. Further left is a toilet, which, thankfully, still worked perfectly. In the far right corner is a shower, which also still worked. I never look at mirrors anymore becuase I don't want to see my reflection anymore. It reminds me too much of Fred. The only mirror is in my room, on Fred's bookshelf, which I turned around. I walk out of the bathroom, after my quick shower, and step in my room. I put on one of my more comfortable outfits, a white t-shirt, blue jacket, and jeans, and made my bed. I sit down on it, put my head in my hands, and start to cry.
My life is miserable without Fred. I look around and all I see is broken. Broken wood, broken glass, broken dreams, and broken memories. When I accidently see myself in some broken glass, all I see is a broken person. A person that had his soul ripped in half on May 2, 1994, by Bellatrix Lestrange. That person was once part of people. No more were the Weasley twins actually twins. No more will the remainder of the twins be happy. That person will never get over the fact that his is no longer whole. Never. That person is looked at like he did something wrong when he goes out in public. Why? That person doesn't know. That person is looked at by his family like he is seconds from dying every day. That person never smiles anymore. Never. That person never got the chance to say goodbye to his other half. That other half is still at Hogwarts, not buried. That person wouldn't allow Fred to be buried. Not yet. Truth is, that person is more than a person. That person is me- George Gideon Weasley: Brother, friend, co-founder and now, single owner of Weasley and Weasley's joke cart in Diagon Alley, but no longer a twin. No longer.
I hear knocking on the door, so I wipe the tears from my face and stand up. I don't want anyone to see me looking like this.
George, I know you're here! You never leave this stupid room, so open the bloody door or I'll knock it down myself!
Why, of all people was he here?
I shrug off the thought and I open the door to find him. He has curly red hair, big blue eyes, and freckles scattered along his stern-looked face. Yep, I said to myself. It's Percy, the biggest prat known to any half-blood, pure-blood, and muggle-born.
What do you want, Percy? Don't you see that I'm not in the happiest mood?
You think that you're the only one affected by Fred's death, but you're not. He had four other brothers and a sister. One of them includes me. So stop you're wining and listen to me-
But he also had a twin. And that was me. I was closest to him, and you guys will never understand what I'm going through, especially you.
Percy then nods, and I can tell that he understands what I am trying to tell him.
Boy was I wrong.
Percy barges in, grabbing me by my neck. He forces me against a wall. I never seen Percy this mad before.
Believe me or not, I was the second closest to Fred. He came to me when you weren't there for him. He asked me for help on his reading and writing, help on his spell work, help on his potions, and anything in-between. STOP thinking that you are the only one that is hurting inside because of him, George. He is gone, and nothing will change that.
He let go of my neck, and I fell to the floor on my knees. I gasp for air, and Percy walks away.
You don't know anything about us, Perce. You were never around to help anyone. You left as soon as you could. You're still as big of a prat as ever.
Unfortunately, I mumbled this a little bit too loud.
Percy, very quickly, turns around and grinds his teeth, narrows his eyes and his hands turn into fists.
What was that, George?
You heard me.
I now realize that I shouldn't have said that.
Percy whipped out his wand and cast several incendio spells, all which I am too much in shock to block or stop. I try to cast an aqua erecto spell, but Percy is too smart for that. He casted expelliarmous and my wand flies from my hand to his.
I was around long enough, George. I knew him, too. I said I was sorry, and you believed me. Why did that change?
You only said you were sorry because the Ministry was basically destroyed. That changed because you let Fred die. You let him not pay attention. You made a joke that you knew he was going to laugh at. It was you.
I let him die? George, I would never do that.
Then why did he, hmm? Why is he not here today? Why am I dying inside? Why do I constantly feel like ice? Why is half of my soul gone? Why am I alone, Perce? Why?
Percy lowers his wand from my face, which is slightly covered in ash. He looks around at all he did. He casts some aqua erecto spells and the fires all disappear. He tosses me my wand, which I catch easily. I push my body up from the ground; unfortunately, my hands are on some shattered glass. My elbows buckle, and I fall back down. Percy comes and helps me up, and bandages my hands.
I- I guess I never thought of it that way. George, I am so sorry. I don't know what it is like to lose someone that has been your best friend- err, twin. I don't know what it's like at all.
I slide back down against the wall onto the floor. Percy does the same. We both look around us and what we've become.
Fred's gone, George. I don't think he'd appreciate what has happened to us.
We both start to cry. He hugs me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. He is the closest thing I have to a twin. Sure, he looks nothing like me, or acts like me, but he sure knows what it feels like. I am somewhat no longer lonely, I still am, but at least I have the next best thing here to help me through it all.
Me neither, Percy, me neither.
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