Exactly one year had passed since the battle. A year since the victory, and the loss. The loss of many, though for George, one loss would never heal. The loss of his brother, his twin, his best friend. A year had passed and not a day had gone by without George thinking about him. Everyday, just as the sun was rising, he would walk down to the pond to where he'd been buried and just talk. He told Fred everything. And the last thing he always said was, "Alright, Freddie, I'd better go. Mum's probably lookin' for me, god knows there's always somethin' she needs done." And then as he stood to go a tear would always fall from his eye as he looked at the grave and said, "I miss you buddy, but don't worry. Our mischief will never be managed. I'll see you tomorrow." Then he would leave.
Everyone had changed since Fred died. In the entire year, George had not once laughed. Molly buried herself in housework. Ginny spent as much time with Harry as possible, both of them trying to forget the memories of the past year, and the same for Ron and Hemione. Arthur rarely left work. No one had been in George and Fred's old room since the battle. But in that one morning, exactly one year later, George finally faced the painful memories. He walked through the doors into the room that had once been filled with laughter and joy. The twins would sit on the beds, laughing and planning their next prank. Neither of them even thinking that one day, it would end. Silent tears ran down his face as he sat on the bed of his best friend. He didn't know how long he sat there, probably hours. But then, as he got up to leave, a sheet of paper fell from the bed. George leaned down and scooped it up and saw that it was a letter addressed to him and written two weeks before the battle. He immediately tore it open and began to read...
"Dear George,
I knew you would be the one to find this. Eventually. I don't know how long it took you, but you did! Listen George, I wrote this letter for a reason. I don't know why, but lately I've been getting this bad feeling. Like something terrible's about to happen. And I think I finally figured out what it is. If you were here with me right now, you'd probably say I was being thick for writing this, but I needed to be sure. George, I think I'm going to die soon. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. And if you're reading this, then it means I was right. And if that's so, I need you to do something for me. Don't give up. I know you, I know how I would be if you had died. I'd be a mess. But please George, for me, I need you to be strong. For me, for mum, for the family. Because if you fall apart, then the family falls apart. And that's not something I can have on my chest. Go on as if I were still with you, because trust me, I am. I love you, George.
-Fred"