*First and final disclaimer for this story, I do not own Harry Potter and the contents in the story. However, Ephyra does belong to me.

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Chapter ONE

Fred, Fred Weasley. This boy, who had died during the battle against the Dark Lord, was named so. He had a family, a very large and extensive one at that, and a twin brother. A twin for whom he would miss so, the one person who had understood him, that connection had been broken when his heart stopped beating. When he died, he felt his soul drift apart from his body, floating in limbo for sometime. He watched as Voldemort was taken down, he watched his family mourn his lifeless body, and he watched the funeral. It was small, not many people, just a few close friends and family. It pained him to see his mother heartbroken, his father cry, his sister comfort George even as she too felt the pain deep inside. Poor, poor George. He was mortified, almost like he had died along with the boy laying in the casket. Fred wanted to reach out, to pat him on the back and say it was going to be alright, that he was still here. But when he did, his hand phased through him. A ghost of what had been, could not touch what still was.

So Fred watched, keeping tabs on his brother and their shop, business still booming; and yet, it still missed something. George kept moving on, often crying at night, Angelina there to comfort him even as she was swelled up like balloon, going through morning sickness and mood-swings. Poor Angelina, poor George. Fred could hardly keep from falling apart, even as ghost. He always wondered when his time would be up, when that Angel from the sky would finally fall down from the Heaven's and claim his soul. And yet, day after day, no Angel came. He figured he must have unfinished business, things he needed sorted out, to say his final goodbyes to those he loved most. But the question was, how? How could he communicate from beyond the grave without a body? A haunting? A spiritual advisor? All ideas led to a dead end. And as always, he sat by idly and watched as his nieces and nephews grew up, never knowing their Uncle Fred. He wanted children, light-skinned girls' and ginger-haired boys'. He wanted all of it, the house, marriage, old-age. Foolish and greedy, that's all it was, just the fiery envy of one lost soul.

And time passed as the children George and Angelina had grew up, making their papa happy. He rarely cried anymore, sleeping sound and cozy, almost forgetting his twin. It was enough to make Fred both angry and relieved. Relief for his brother's mourning had passed, and anger for him not mentioning his brother to his children. So much so, that one day, Fred up and left. Floating along the way along the streets of Diagon Alley, not bothering to weave his way through the crowd, simply phasing through them. He wanted to go, to just ascend already, get rid of the pain in his aching heart. But, to his lamentation, he could not. And so, he floated along, head hung low.

"I'll take this, please." a woman's voice reached his ears, he looked towards a shop with a pentagonal-star sign hanging above the door. She was standing outside, holding a few tattered books in a ½ price bin. The bored store owner looked at her oddly. He was old, decrepit. Fred thought of how funny it would be to take make a potion that caused the old man's ear hair to grow, slip it to him in his morning pumpkin juice. The thought of it nearly lifted his spirits, nearly. But he floated closer, listening to the conversation. Something about this woman struck him, pulled him towards her. Sure, she was pretty, not gorgeous like Fleur but definitely attractive. She had ivory skin, green-cat eyes popping out against the pale color, her face framed in tight dark-brown curls. She let it fall around her, some pulled up at the top of her head, decorated in a weirdly decorated top hat. A veil hung to the side from the small hat, her clothes different, almost 1900's. She looked delicate, confident, and her smile made his cold soul feel warm. Her clothing may have been dark, but her smile was bright.

"That'll be 10 gallons." the shop-keeper replied. She frowned at him, almost like a child who didn't get their way. Fred chuckled to himself.

"But it says, ½ off all books." she argued.

"Yeah, each one you got is 5 gallons, half off the original price. You got two, that makes 10 gallons." he explained.

"I thought it meant half off the full price for what you buy."

"No, no. Half off what's in the bin Miss, if you ain't happy with it, you can put the books down and leave."

"Well." she huffed, pouting her bottom lip, head held high.

"I'll take them." the old man sighed, rubbing his temples and taking the money from her.

"Have a great day." the man implied, somewhat irritated.

"As for you, the same." she nodded, pulling the veil over her face and sticking her books in a cauldron hanging on her arm. Fred felt cold again as she walked away, and so he followed her. Her walk was delightful, graceful, almost like she was gliding on water. Nothing like the girls' at Hogwarts or on the Muggle women he'd seen, something about her aura was magnetic, he couldn't pull himself away.

"Evenin' Miss, would you like--?" an old wizard tried to stop her, holding an organ with a dancing house elf standing by, dressed in Shakespearean couture.

"No thank-you, must be on my way. Too much to do, so little time. None can be wasted on dilly-dally and silly street performer's today I'm afraid." she smiled, taking a few coins from her cauldron and tossing them at the old man.

"Thank ya kindly." the old man tipped his hat, and she was on her way again. She didn't stop for some time, meandering her way to a forest Fred had never seen before. Although, he had never ventured far from the joke shop, not even for a prank or two. But, despite the growing feeling of ill will swelling inside of him, he still followed her. What could a wandering soul be afraid of, he was already dead.

At the forest's entrance, she went straight for a grim looking carriage, driven by an odd looking coach driver. A small hob-goblin, holding the reigns to which were attached to Thestrals'. He watched as she made her way to the little man, mumbling something to him.

"Home now, if you would." she whispered, climbing carelessly into the coach. Fred phased through, sitting across from her. Her cat eyes scanned the outside, chin resting her fist.

Beautiful. He thought. Truly, he hadn't noticed how appealing her eyes were at the moment he first saw her, awkward yet fascinating. He wondered if it were the eyes that had pulled him along, to bring him to follow her so impulsively. She couldn't even see him, let alone touch him. But deep down, he felt that this woman could help him, and following her was the first step to getting what he wanted.

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Author's note:

Thank-you in advance to those who have read my first fanfic, it is still in progress and will be updated along with this one. I have a tendency to start something and move on to something else, so don't be upset if I don't update this one or the other and happen upon something new to write. Please, if you feel it necessary, and the demand for these stories are high, I will write more consistently.

Please read and review, let me know if you like it. It would be much appreciated.

Thanks again,

iHeartE.D.