George Weasley stepped through the broken wall of Diagon Alley. The street was in ruins. The shops were all closed with some windows shattered and many buildings partially destroyed. It seemed George could never escape the destruction that Voldemort had caused. Even with him destroyed by Harry, the war still haunted him.
His brother was the hardest hitter in all of this. When Fred had died, George held his body. He looked into his dear brother's face, his own face, and saw nothing except the empty eyes of the dead. George wept not only for his brothers' death but the death of his future. When he looked at his brother, George always saw the spark of potential. Reality had doused that spark.
George continued to wander the streets. He passed by the wand shop Ollivander's and saw nothing but a caved in ceiling and many broken wands, yet another example of the death of potential. George trudged passed many buildings in similar condition. Gringotts seemed alright except for the giant hole in the ceiling where his brother Ron, Hermione and Harry had stolen a dragon. George sniffed and chuckled.
"We got a hell of a kick out of that one, eh Fred?" George asked. He got no answer except the faint whisper of wind lightly blowing through the alley. He continued on, looking for that special building he and his twin had created. Then, like a mirage in the desert, George saw it. He sprinted towards the building while holding back tears. He reached the store and pressed his hand against the cool glass window.
The inside was dark. There seemed to be light damage to the building but otherwise it was just as Fred and George left it. He pressed his forehead against the glass and took a deep breath. The cool glass made him feel a little better. His breath fogged up the window and he sighed.
"I suppose I should go in then," he said loudly, wishing someone would stop him. He wanted this whole store to disappear in a flash so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore. Every little piece of it reminded him of his brother's death. George and his brother had never been apart. Ever since birth they had been together through thick and thin yet here George was, alone after everything they'd been through. He choked back a sob.
"D-dammit Fred… WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND LEAVE ME?" George shouted into the sky. George felt tears form and slide down his cheeks. He fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands. His throat was hoarse from crying. His eyes stung from the tears. He looked into the store once more. Beyond the jokes and pranks was a picture frame with a moving photo of him and Fred. Fred waved and winked at him, as if everything was fine. George laughed harshly and pressed his fist against the doorframe.
After a few more minutes, George regained his composure. He leaned against the doorframe and brushed his pinstriped suite off. He would continue this, the store that two boys from rags dreamed of. They had made it, and George would be damned if he didn't continue on, if not for him, then for Fred.
Slowly, George drew his wand and pressed it against the wood door. He muttered under his breath and an engraving appeared. "In honor of Fred, one half of the whole dreamer."
George clicked a switch inside and the store became illuminated. Everything was a bit worse for wear but he knew he'd fix everything eventually. Some of the roof had caved it, leaving a very large hole in the ceiling. He could hear a distant bird's call through the hole and the sun shined through it.
"Reparo," George croaked. In a second, the roof was fixed. It wasn't much, but it was a start of a long recovery process. George sighed and walked through each of the aisles of the store. His fingers caressed the wooden shelves with familiarity. Everything here felt so normal to him except for the fact that his brother wasn't next to him.
"You and Fred really did a Hell of a job with this place," Ron, George's brother said, standing in the doorway. George smiled and looked up at the highest shelf where a few dolls sat, smiling down at them cheerfully. George thought it was ironic that these smiling dolls sat through the whole of the second wizarding war.
"Yeah, we did," George said with melancholy. Ron walked up to his brother and clapped his arm.
"We'll be okay, mate, as long as we've got our family," Ron said. Tears were building in his eyes. George's started to sting. Georg sniffed.
"Yeah, I know. It's just—" George's voice cracked and he embraced his brother tightly, crying into his shoulder.
"I know, George, I miss him too," Ron said. Tears fell from his cheeks as he patted his brother's back.
"He could have been so much more! Why did he have to go? Why did he have to leave me?" George shouted hoarsely, his voice muffled by Ron's shoulder.
"I think we all ask ourselves that question, George," Ron said, pulling away from the hug to look into George's eyes. Both Weasleys were red in the face and they're eyes were bloodshot. Ron took another look around.
"I know it probably wouldn't mean much, but since you're alone here in Diagon Alley, well maybe you wouldn't have to."
"What?"
"Well, if you'd like some family around, at least for the time being, I could help you with this shop. I know I'm not Fred but—" Ron was stopped by George once again hugging him fiercely.
"I'm guessing that's a yes?" Ron asked and George chuckled and lightly ruffled his hair.
"Of course, little brother. Follow me," George said, gesturing to him.
"Why? Is there some secret area I need to know about?" Ron asked, looking past George to the back of the store.
"Nope, I'm showing you the broom closet. If you're going to work here, you're going to help me clean this place up," George snickered, while Ron scowled playfully.
"George?"
"Yeah?"
"I—I think Fred would be proud of you. Y'know, continuing on his business and such," Ron said,smiling.
"Well, I think he'd appreciate you helping me out. I'm proud of you, little brother, and I think Fred would be, too. Now, let's get this shop back to it's former glory!"