I never got over Fred's death, tbh. So this was just a little something that was cathartic for me.
Disclaimer:I don't own the Harry Potter franchise or anything associated with it.
Update 10/05/16: grammatical fixes
When Hogwarts reopened, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall couldn't bring herself to study the new ghosts in the halls too closely. She knew many of them-students who had graduated and come back to fight, and students who had never even been able to take
their N.E.W.T.S. Each ghost was another weight added onto her chest, squeezing her breath out until she could scarcely speak (although no one dared to gossip about how the welcome speech she gave was too quiet and too short).
It was a surprise to her that, that year, Peeves had disappeared, perhaps onto the next world, whatever it may be. What did not surprise her was the ghost who decided to step up in his absence. Every time she heard screeches of the students (mostly first
years) he harassed, she couldn't bring herself to confront and reprimand him. That would require looking him in the eyes; and she couldn't quite work up the nerve to do that, not yet.
He was a significant improvement upon Peeves, she had to admit. Whereas Peeves had been a bully under the guise of a prankster, his replacement worked it so most everyone-sometimes even his unsuspecting victims-got a laugh.
He liked to haunt the corridor he had died in, standing at the spot where his body had lain and loudly trumpeting to all who passed by that they "ought to be ashamed, walking where he had died, bloody heathens", with a twinkle in his eye, watching amusedly
as the people scurried past where they now knew a body had been not even two years previously. Of course, he enjoyed even more popping up onto the table with the food during feasts and saying that the children were "eating where they had laid my body,
have some bloody respect". He entertained himself with small explosions and elaborate pranks, and couldn't take anything seriously (and she had heard that he spoke as though he expected someone else to finish the sentence, and she knew had he been
alive, someone would have).
Yes, Fred Weasley made a very good Hogwarts ghost.
Of course, he noticed he was being avoided, and, as was in his nature, could not accept that. So she was finally forced to face one of her ghosts (quite literally and figuratively) when he decided to pop in during one of her lessons.
She didn't say anything, simply pursed her lips, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a look that screamed no nonsense, to which he grinned charmingly back and reclined upon a wall, and so she continued teaching. And if there was a tear threatening to fall,
and a quaver in her voice, well, the students didn't say anything then, either.
When the students had left, he approached her -footsteps totally silent, as only the dead's can be-and, with a look on his face more genuine than that of which she had ever seen while he was alive, gently sat down with her as she sank onto her chair,
silent tears rolling down her cheeks and sobs shaking her shoulders.
"I'm terribly sorry for looking such a mess, Mr. Weasley," she said when she had regained control of her voice.
Fred gave her a grin and proclaimed, "Don't worry about it, you're simply stunning. Professor, if I were alive and older-of course, not that much older, you couldn't be a day over 50…" He trailed off as his smile faded, and a look of longing fell upon
his face. "Could you tell me-just… How is he?" He asked, his voice scarcely a whisper.
"George is managing the shop quite well, if the amount of Weasley merchandise I've had to confiscate so far this year is anything to go by. He's… Not quite the same, but he's better than he was. Misses you terribly, of course. I hear that a girl has been
helping him put as well, and I'm sure they'll end up together quite happily," she said with a smile.
"Good… That's good," he said.
She rose and, he along with her, and, both standing, she looked him fully in the eyes.
She cleared her throat, and said "Well, Mr. Weasley, as lovely as this has been, I'm afraid another class will be coming in soon, so off you go."
With a sloppy salute and a wink, he glided away to do mischief.
That night, as she ate up on the faculty table and watched the occupants of her school, she found she could look at all of them, living and dead. It still hurt-it never wouldn't-but she could look, and that was better. Not amazing. But it was better.