Harry Potter: Incomplete

By porpierita

A/N: Fred is dead. NO! I will NEVER, EVER, EVER, (rants on) forgive JKR for killing off Fred. NEVER. How can she just leave poor old George alone? They were both…together. Better kill them both than kill one. It's so cruel. I can't believe this. This death caught me completely off guard. I don't care who dies; I just want Freddie to live! Why couldn't Percy have died?!

I mean, honestly, the twins were the laughter in the book, without them, a dark shadow loomed across the covers. It's not the same anymore.

Oh well, this is just a stupid little fic I came up with. I'll surely write another one where Fred lives. I swear.

He stared into it. The Mirror of Erised, as old as ever, but with a mystique and an aura about it, dictating an old, forgotten past. It worked like a normal mirror for him, well, almost. Harry had explained, that the happiest man on Earth would be able to use this mirror like a normal one. George definitely wasn't the happiest man on Earth. So he stared into it's dusty surface, where no one had discovered it for years, until he had found it, hidden in the Room of Requirement, asking for a place to relieve his feelings on the events that had just occurred.

Surprisingly, the room had not been demolished like Harry had suspected. It was still intact, still usable, and still as strange as ever. The Mirror stood there, grand, elegant, but nevertheless, useless. He peered into it, and saw a joyful version of himself staring back. Two Georges. No, the other was a Fred.

They were standing, shoulder to shoulder, carrying Skiving Snackboxes, and merchandise from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The joy gleamed from his eyes. George's eyes. They were identical to the last freckle, yet, one was missing an ear, and one, in life, was dead.

It did not do him well to dwell in the past. What is gone is gone, and the Weasley twin could not do anything about it, but ponder what would have happened, were both of them dead. That would have been better. Better than to live this empty life, as if part of his soul had been torn away, ripped apart, unfinished. He had no one to lean to, no one to finish his sentences, no one to laugh with…though there was no laughter left in him anyway.

And yet, he knew that his brother would've wanted him to be happy, to carry on the life they had both planned together. To live it so full, that it would be enough for both of them. Not mourn over the past. He had died with his last laugh, had died fighting for the future. And that's what George would do. Carry on the business they had formed together. Fulfill the wishes they had created.

But even if he could get on with life, live to a ripe old age, or be successful in any other way, he knew that his soul, his body, his being, could never, would never, be untarnished. He would always live a half-life, a life lacking his twin's fire, which made them strive together, for he himself was air. Both supporting the other, depending on the other. His life, forevermore, would always be, incomplete.

A/N: Aw…I know it sucks. Oh well (shrug). RIP Fred. I don't care what JKR says; you'll always be alive.

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