What am I supposed to do? I'm broken. Not into tiny, little pieces - no, in half. My brother, my twin, the one who was going to always be there for me, is gone. Gone, just like that.
Rookwood. Merlin, I swear if that son of a bitch Death Eater made it out of there alive, I'll kill him. I won't think anything about it. He deserves to die. Die in a hole.
I hear noises, tons of noises: cheering, celebrating, laughing…
Laughter stops me in my tracks. Fred loved to laugh. He was always the bigger jokester of the two of us. From the time when we first found the Marauders' Map to when we opened our store, he was the inspiration, the one who got it all started.
I look up. Fireworks crack above; the muggles surely think the world's gone crazy. Boom! Boom!
"How can they celebrate at a time like this?" I kick a nearby tree at the cemetery where Mum said they were going to bury Fred. Why am I here? Nothing could be more depressing.
Percy. Merlin, it's his fault. If he hadn't have made Fred laugh, he might've come out of all this. Or maybe I should blame Harry. Or Ron. If Ron hadn't've been friends with Harry, maybe we wouldn't've gone out to fight. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course we would've. Merlin, You-Know-Who's to blame. But he's dead, like Freddie.
I can feel unshed tears well up in my eyes. I try to hold them back, but it's no use. They flow like firewhiskey at one of the many parties Fred and I have thrown.
"It'll be okay." The voice is soft and reassuring. Turning around, I recognize the young girl, who doesn't look so innocent anymore. She has dark skin and jet black hair. Her chocolate eyes are pretty, but her muscles are what draw me in.
"Johnson." I try to smile at her, but how can I? She's the girl Fred fancied, went out with.
"Merlin, George, don't be an arse. We've known each other since we were eleven. It's Angelina." She narrows her eyes at me.
"Fine, Angelina… What're you doing here?" I roll my eyes and try to stop the tears that really won't quit flowing.
"I'm sad, too, you know." She looks off into the distance. There's tombstone after tombstone, as far as the eye can see. Fred will soon be one of them.
"I figured, yes."
A cool breeze blows. Angelina comes and stands beside me, taking my hand. She gives it a slight squeeze. Her eyes tell me that she's right, that it'll be okay.
"George," she says softly, "Fred would have not in any way wanted you to be sad like this."
She's right. He would have probably wanted me to go celebrate like everyone else. In spite of his death, this is a great day. Harry Potter has defeated him, and he's gone, forever.