Dear George,
Ol' buddy, old pal, it looks like I didn't make it through it this time. Guess whose 'holey' now? Pathetic, I know. . .
I know you're sad. I know you're crying. I know you're trying to be brave. But George, you know that I wouldn't want you to feel bad. You know why? Because those people I died fighting are the same ones that attacked my family, my friends, my school, and my girl.
They're evil, George. I've never spoken (or written) so seriously in my life. They kill. They murder. They torture. But when they invaded Hogwarts, it was too much. I couldn't stay still anymore than you could have.
If you're reading this, it means I'm dead. I'm cold, my lungs no longer breathe, and I can't move as I lie frozen in a casket.
But you know what else this means? It means that at least one more Death Eater didn't make it to Harry, and I'm proud that I did all in my power to spite You-Know-Poo.
There were too many of us Weasley's, George. I knew someone had to die. It was too much to hope for that we would all emerge alive. So who gets to live? I'll tell you now, George, that I'm glad it didn't happen to anyone else, even if that only leaves me.
Someday I'll see you again, though not in this life. But I'll be watching, and you better put some Wart Cap in Percy's bed or I swear I'll come back as a ghost to haunt you.
George, I have never loved anyone as much as I have Angelina. But if I do die, I want you to take care of her.
I love you, George, and as I finish writing this, I want you to know that I'll be watching as you pathetically fall for some girl and ask her out. I'll be laughing at the horrid dress robes she'll make you wear to your wedding, and when Auntie Muriel corners you. I'll watch as you have kids, (who'll hopefully look like your wife or you're in serious trouble!) And as your hair fades to gray, I'll be spilling my guts as I giggle over the fact that I HAVE HAIR, and you don't.
But the day you die, and it better be as an old man, I'll also be waiting up in here to shake your hand, clap your back, and start crying like a little girl.
-Fred