A/N: So, I never participated in the mass mourning for Fred after his death. I felt sorrow, sure, but did not know what to say. I cried my tears and moved on. We read a poem in my Latin class this past week that inspired me and, now, I too, am writing a funeral fic.
Catullus 101: Here rests his head upon the lap of the Earth,
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown
Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus
advenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,
ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
et mutam requiquam alloquerer cinerem,
quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum
heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi.
Nunc tamen interea haec, prisco quae more parentum
tradita sunt triti munere ad inferias,
accipe faterno multum manantia fletu
atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.
through many people and through many seas having traveled
I arrive at these miserable, brother, funeral rites
so that, to you, this final offering I give, in death
and to address, in vain, the silent ashes
since fortune, from me, has taken you
alas, wretched brother, taken prematurely from me.
Now, however, meanwhile, these which, by the ancient customs of the parents
were handed over as a sad offering to the funeral rites
accept a brother's many dripping tears
and, eternally, brother, hail and goodbye.
The sea of black covered the field, although, in the first three rows, the bright red heads stood out like beacons, shining in the sun. The day was bright and beautiful for such a sorrowful event. The sun was shining, flowers blooming and birds chirping. It was a day that Fred would have loved, George mused idly, morosely, as, with his eyes, he followed a squirrel jumping from limb to limb. Anything to avoid looking at the dark mahogany casket.
The man from the ministry murmured on about his brother, pausing occasionally to mop the sweat from his upper lip. He continued to, however, sweat everywhere else. George traced a drop from his hairline until it slid beneath the collar of his stiff black robes.
George listened to some of the words that were leaving the man's mouth. He was going on about Fred's courage, his loyalty, and the love he held for others and they held for him. How does he know? He did not know Fred. George could not even summon the energy, the emotion, to become angry with this man who spoke of things, of his brother, even though he knew nothing about him.
George continued to let his thoughts wander, absentmindedly watching a butterfly visit the wildflowers in the vicinity. Many people spoke, those who knew Fred in many different ways. George sat, not really paying attention to the speeches. They had asked him to speak; he was last.
Finally, he heard his name being called. He stood, walking with his head down, to the podium at the front of the crowd. He stood there, shuffling his speech cards. He was prepared to give a speech. he was not, however, prepared to give a speech at his own brother's – his twin's – funeral. He looked up at the crowd quickly and then peered down at his notes again, sighing and placing them to the side.
He looked up again and preformed a sonorous charm. "Hello," he began. Taking a large, shuddering breath in order to gather his thoughts, he continued. "I had a speech prepared, but, I do not think it will do my brother justice. So, I am going to start from scratch, but, even better, I am going to speak from my heart.
"You all knew Fred. In one way or another, my brother touched your life, or else, you would not be here. I like to think that I knew all of Fred, that there were no surprises or secrets between Fred and me but, that would be a lie. . Fred was my other half. Without him, I am incomplete. So, I should have known all of him, should I have not? I feel, I believe that one never knows themselves completely.
"Fred was constantly surprising me. Every day, I would learn something about him that I never knew. He would make me laugh, god, how we would laugh. I curse those whom have taken him away from me.
There is no one else like Fred. He was a unique soul and I loved him so much. We all did. He was so loved and cherished so much. Why did it have to be him?
I miss my brother. I miss all the times we had together. In third year, on Christmas morning, I woke up tied to my bed. He stood in front of me, dangling a present in front of my nose. I could not reach it, because he had tied my hands to the bed.
He always surprised me. If you think that we pranked other people, you should have seen how much we pranked each other. It was a no-holds-barred type of pranking. Because, if we were half of the same being, would not it be the greatest victory to be able to prank yourself? To be able to trick your own self?
I think Fred is looking down at us laughing. He is wondering why we are crying for him when he is up there pranking the big guy. In addition, I know that I will see my brother again someday. It is only a matter of time. He knows that too.
I would like for us to give a final gift to Fred. He always hated tears. Whenever there were any, Fred was sure to make himself scarce. Therefore, our final gift to Fred is going to be one of laughter, one of joy, we are going to accept our sorrow and we are going to love Fred and all the joy that he gave us in life."
George turned and waved his wand, causing a hologram to appear. There were pictures of Fred, from a newborn – pink in the face and wailing – to right before his death – him and George standing in front of their store, showing off the newest product.
The audience smiled, and some laughed, because, after all, George was right. There was no way that Fred would have wanted them so sad over his loss. He would want to be remembered with the laughter that he provided in life, not with the sorrow that his death caused.
The show came to an end and George strolled the couple of feet to his left. Placing his hand on Fred's casket, a smile on his face and tears pouring from his eyes. He looked at the dark wood, "Eternally, brother, ave atque vale. Hail and goodbye."
