George looked at his brother, looking into those familiar eyes that were once so full of life. Now? Now, they just looked, empty, up at the ceiling that was bewitched to look like the dreary sky outside. A tear ran down his face.

Disbelief ran through his mind because there was no way that his twin brother could be gone. Silent sobs overwhelmed him. His mother rubbed him on the back as she too cried. Then Ron, his youngest brother, walked through the doors of the Great Hall.

Ron looked so oblivious to the fact that one of his family members was dead. It made everything that much more unrealistic.

Mr. Weasley got to his feet and strode over to him. George could see him trying to ease Ron into the subject that would turn his world upside down. Slowly, the family surrounding him could see Ron's face turn from curiosity to despair as he ran toward them. He bent down beside his brother and started to sob.

There, the whole family grouped around Fred's body and cried. Then George stood up because he couldn't bear the sight of his other half lying there, lifeless. He felt so hopeless. What was he supposed to do now? He felt so lost in his mind. It was too much to take in. His thoughts were so jumbled, he thought he was going to explode.
George leaned against the wall in a corner and slid down. He buried his face in his hands and just cried. He didn't know how long he did and he honestly didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

He literally felt like a part of him was gone. A part of him that could never ever be filled. Why did it have to be Fred? Why couldn't it be someone else? He knew it was bad to wish for another person's death, but he couldn't help himself.

Fred was the most important person in his life. Fred knew all of his secrets, dreams, and wishes. And George knew his. He could never share half of the things he shared with Fred with anyone else in the whole world. Life just wouldn't be the same. No one would understand him in the same way Fred did,

Suddenly, he felt a cooling sensation running throughout his body. It was soothing. This feeling doused the fire that was in his mind, heart, and soul. Everything felt okay. Bearable, even. Then, everything faded into blackness.

George tried not to open his eyes. He felt strange. His eyes burned... as if he'd been crying. He lifted his arm and wiped his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. He opened his eyes cautiously. Light peered through his fingertips and reached his eyes. he squinted. What he saw on his arm was unreal. There were tears on his sleeve. When did he start crying? He didn't even remember being sad.
He looked over at the bed next to him. It was empty. He looked around the room. Then he realized he was at home and not in his room at the shop. He slowly got out of bed. Things were quiet as he went downstairs. Soon, he heard the familiar noise of pans on the stove. He heaved a sigh of relief. Fred must be eating breakfast, he thought to himself. When he went into the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was cooking breakfast over the stove, oblivious that George had crept in. Mr. Weasley had his head down on the table and appeared to be asleep.

He cleared his throat. Mr. Weasley looked up from the table. His eyes were droopy, and tired. He looked like hell.

"Where is everyone?" asked George.

Mrs. Weasley finally looked around and replied, "Asleep still." She too looked like hell.

George screwed up his face. That still didn't explain where Fred was. "But where's Fred? He wasn't in his bed."

At the mention of Fred's name, his mother burst into tears. Mr. Weasley got up and walked across the room in a few strides. With every step he took, George could just feel despair inching closer. He felt his father's hand on his back as he whispered into his ear, "George, I don't know how else to tell you this... But he's gone."

Gone? What did he mean gone? Had Fred left? Where did he go? George looked into his father's eyes and the memories came flooding back into his mind. The sight of his lifeless brother, those blank eyes, that helpless feeling. Reality came back to him and he took a seat on the nearest chair and wept.

He started to feel bad, sitting there with his mother and father looking at him. He knew they hurt just as much as him, but their parental instinct told them to show strength. George rose from his chair and made his way back up the rickety staircase and into his big room that felt even more empty than before.