So, that was it.
Right there, right then.
They won the war; the war that the Wizarding world had been fighting for almost 50 years; the war Harry's parents died for; the war that killed so many innocent people; the war that changed wizarding history forever.
And they won it. They won! Voldemort was gone, dead, vanished. He would never be seen again. He would only be known in wizarding history, in books, taught in lessons.
Yet, it was hard to be happy. When all should be celebrating, rejoicing – but every person involved felt loss, felt something missing.
And this was more than true for the Weaslys. They all knew it should be a happy time. A time to dance, sing and be merry. But each felt this task was truly impossible with the absence of such an important member, Fred.
Of course it didn't seem real to any of them yet. George would ask the air next to him a question, expecting a reply from his lost brother, say something and expected to hear the next line, or the same thing repeated in his ear. But yet, these moments never came. And George could wait forever, but deep down; he knew they never would again.
