Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
31st April, 1998
Hello, brother mine!
I hope you're doing well without me around you. If you've found this letter, it means that I've passed on before you and you were digging through my things when you found this.
Cheeky bugger, going through my belongings.
But I guess since you're my twin brother, what's mine is yours, right? If I'm not mistaken, this letter will be stashed along with things we snitched from our time in Hogwarts. Neville's Remembrall is amongst them, I think. You may keep it, of course.
Anyway, moving on. This letter is my will of sorts. I know that we have separate bank vaults at Gringotts, but whatever in there is yours now. I had the Wizengamot legalise everything before we went for the War. The joke shop is fully under you now, too. Take care of it properly, that's my only request of you.
Gred, I know you'll miss me when I've passed. I only hope that you don't find this letter before I die, though. As a safety measure, I asked Hermione to charm it for me so that the letter will only unseal itself when I die. I think the smarty-pants also put an unreadable charm so that you and only you can read it. If you're reading this now, then I'm sure I'm already as good as dead, eh?
Just make sure my funeral will be grand, alright? You lead the sermon; tell people our tales and adventures we went through together. Tell of our pranks and jokes, our tricks on Umbridge. Don't leave out the part where we set her pretty pink perfect office on fire in our last year. I remember the fit she threw when she knew it was us both who did it.
You're chuckling through tears, aren't you, Georgie? If I weren't your twin, I'd think you're a downright sap for crying like you are now. Careful, you might make the ink on this parchment run if you keep that river flowing.
Keep my things in order, alright? If you're lucky, I might just come back as a ghost and help you frighten Mum. Just like old times, eh?
I know you're still missing me, brother. It'd be unfair of me to ask to you to let go of my memory, but stay strong as long as you can, alright?
We'll be back to the good ol' times when you join me later on in life, yes? I'll still be that handsome 20 year old bloke while you're all wrinkly and old with 8 grandchildren.
Ah, I got you chuckling again. I'll end this letter with that happy thought, alright, brother mine?
Stay strong for me. Take care of Mum and Ginny, and please tell Perce to unwedge the huge stick from up his arse and live a little.
With unconditional and immense love,
Fred G. Weasley
George tossed the loose sheets of parchment on this twin brother's vacant bed, angry tears streaming from his eyes. He stood up and paced the length of the room he used to share with his brother. With a frustrated cry, he kicked the chest-of-drawers.
His wand rolled off and clattered on the floor. He picked it up and pointed to the parchments on the bed with a shaking hand.
"Incend-" George stopped himself before he could set the parchments on fire. No, Fred wouldn't want him to regret this later. Not now, and most definitely not later. With a heavy heart, George gathered the pieces of parchment and locked it in his desk drawer for safekeeping.
He stole a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey from his Dad's liquor cabinet and made his way to the forest behind the Burrow, walking for as long as his long legs could carry him far enough.
Arriving at a clearing eight minutes later, George plopped on the hard ground on his bum. He conjured up two shot glasses and proceeded to pour a generous amount into the glasses. He lifted one up to the air, toasting to no one in particular.
"Here's to you, Freddie." He downed the shot, appreciating the warmth of the alcohol sliding down his throat. "To all the things we've been through as brothers; to all the things we've achieved with each other." He downed the other glass.
The lone Weasley twin stood up on his feet unsteadily, silent tears welling up in his brown eyes. He allowed them to trickle down his cheeks.
"Why did you leave me, Fred? What did I do to deserve this?" George screamed to thin air.
A heavy gust of wind blew through the treetops, messing up George's hair. He sank to his knees.
"I miss you, Fred. Don't leave me."
This has been sitting in my computer for a year now; I hadn't realized it still existed until I was clearing up my hard drive.
I edited it a bit, but I hope it was to your satisfactory. I did cry rereading it again.
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