Disclaimer: JKR owns the HP-verse. Plot is mine.
He was finally here.
Sixty years of isolation, and it had at last come to an end. His hair, still that outrageous purple, masked any resemblance he might have had to the person he was about to meet. He could feel the fog lifting around him, the mists thinning to signal his final passageway to his destination.
He slowly cracked open an eyelid, and to his horror, he was surrounded by dark purple clouds, a bubbling tar pit of lava beside him. He sprang up hastily, edging away from the crevice, eying it with a mix of wariness and pure, terrible fear.
His thoughts were running ahead of him, formulating to place the name of this strange land. Hell. The word reverberated through his skull.
But he hadn't been cruel or malicious, and he couldn't really place why he was here.
But George's Weasley sense of curiosity made him eerily eager to explore what this place held for him. So he slowly made his way, dusting his trousers, and ducking what looked to be clouds of acid rain at random moments.
He could see wrought iron doors glistening in the distance, a path of burning charcoal lacing its way through the lava.
He couldn't be bothered to be afraid, for death and lava could only harm the living, right?
Carefully stepping onto the first piece of charcoal, he sensed a faint pop going off behind him, the sound ringing in familiarity, but to no comprehension.
He slowly turned around, and had a happy dunk into the bubbling mosh pit because of the firework that had just smacked him in the face. He was almost completely certain that he'd felt a pair of hands at his back, shoving him so that he could have a nice welcome bath in the steamy sauna.
"Fred!" he bellowed.
...Wait, what? "Fred?!"
And there stood, grinning, four men. But his eyes were only trained on one.
And slowly, Fred grinned. "Gred?" he asked hesitantly.
And his twin beamed back. "Yep, Forgie boy." And George's grin in that moment was blinding, and he wasn't sure if it wouldn't be stuck to his face permanently.
Fred gestured towards the three men behind him.
"Prongs, the heir of Slytherin, it's his daddy."
"Lupin, as you know, Moony."
"And my personal favourite, Sirius Black, Padfoot," to which the other two spluttered indignantly.
Sirius shot them a smirk over his shoulder.
George's eyes widened in comprehension. "Wait-wha-Prong-Moony-Padf…You're the Marauders!"
And Fred rolled his eyes. Sirius and Prongs yelled, "Bingo!"
Realizing he'd quite forgotten to embrace his brother, George catapulted onto Fred, squeezing him tightly and reverently, making up for all his saddened memories on the earth plane. Fred, to his credit, hugged him as tightly, but instead chose to loudly moan, "I'm straight, brother o' mine."
And soon enough, the trio snapped their fingers, and the lava underneath his feet began to dissolve.
"Prank's over, and now that's that. Welcome to heaven, Georgie boy."
And the mist clears for a second time, and he gasps.
Sixty years, and he was finally here.
Aaaaaaaaaand thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Another one-shot, because I got this sudden brainwave and I just had to sit and pen down what I thought had happened when the two nutcases reunited.
Also, the part where George dyes his hair an outrageous colour is taken from a tumblr headcanon, so there.
Please do read and review, 'cuz you guys inspire me.
