"No!" He cried, as there was a painful snap in his hand, the thin piece of wood soaring though the air and out of his reach. Terrified tears burned his eyes as there was a glimmer of green emitting from the foes wand, and it slowly got brighter with each passing second. Fred! Fred where are you? His hands flew up to his face for a moment before he ducked onto his side, awaiting the impact of the Killing Curse. And then he heard that hideous voice. The Death Eater that loomed over him froze in his advances, turning his head away. In that moment, he began to scramble for his wand, but the hissing voice pierced his eardrum with such intensity, that he feared his already wounded ear would rupture.
In his panic, the red haired victim only caught bits and pieces of the speech. Fred? I know you can hear me you bloody wretch! Come on; come to my rescue, like you always promised, like you always did before! Help me out, I have him wide open, Freddie! Hit him! Magic Blood. Damn it Freddie! Where are you? You're supposed to be here with me! Side by side! We promised to fight side by side! Collect your dead. You know mum's going to make us try to clean the battle field, without magic. Don't be the Bugger and disappear on me, Freddie. Fought Valiantly. Hear that? He's talking to us, Fred! He's talking to you, you impossible brat!
All at once, everything fell silent, and the green light faded from the Death Eaters wand. Before the fallen Weasley Twin could look up to catch a glimpse of the Harlot that threatened to kill him, the Death Eater vanished in a plume of black smoke. Immediately, George Weasley felt sick with relief, and he scrambled to his wand, holding it tightly against his chest as he got to his feet. Fred? Recalling the moment he and his twin had been separated in the heat of battle, George bolted away from his nook in the wall, climbing over the rubble of the grounds they once called their home away from home. There had been a flash of vibrant blue, before bits of the ceiling began to fall towards the Weasley twins. Naturally, they pushed one another the opposite way, there fore saving the other from the mesh.
"Georgie, you alright, mate?" Fred had shouted, coughing from the dust and grit that plumed around the scene. On the opposite side of the wreckage George had pulled himself up, his injured ear ringing horribly. But he almost felt what his twin had said, and he had faithfully looked towards the crumbled debris.
"Just peachy, Freddie!"
"Hang on a minute! I'll clear a path!" George had instinctively moved away from the wall, sensing that his twin was on the cusp of doing as he had said when angry shouts sounded from the Hall. "Oi! I was working here, you rude git!" Before George could smile at his Brothers antics, a flash of red whizzed by his unharmed ear, and Fred and George were forced their separate ways.
Now the scuffed Twin made his way along the line of wreckage, wondering if his brother had gotten around to making a path or not. Reaching a point where the mess was easily climbed, the younger of the twins started his search. His head was buzzing with the adrenaline and he was eager to share it with his equally excited best friend. A moment later, he found himself standing at the top of one of the many staircases, and his apathetic face brightened slightly as he saw the familiar tuft of bright fiery hair.
"What? Lying down on the job, lazy?" George smiled quietly, looking down at the steps to make sure he didn't trip. When he looked up, he had half expected to fine Fred pulling himself up and muttering about the fit Mum would throw washing these jackets. But Fred was still on the ground, his back to George and right arm laying awkwardly over his head. For the first time, George could not see the brighter side. All at once, everything plummeted down ward and he took off down the steps, tripping over his own feet and landing heavily on top of his brother. "Fred, come on, Mate, this isn't funny."
This was payback for the Ear, George thought as he pulled his hands under him and pushed himself off of his beloved brother. Fred was going to be a slimy little git and open his eyes any minute saying 'Got you!'
"Fred, Get up! Come on, we have to check on the others!" His hands trembled as he turned Fred onto his back. Tears were forming fast as he looked into the face identical to his own. Shaking the red head with a little more force than intended, George began to Panic. "Get up, Fred! You had your laugh! Don't do this to me!"
"Fred and George Weasley! Get up and start helping look for…" George heard a distant voice, which might have registered as his mother had he not been drowning in his own terror. Why wouldn't Fred wipe that sarcastic look off his face? Why wouldn't his eyes fix on George? "Oh my…!"
George knew… He hated it and refused to fully accept it, but he knew as he gripped his brother, his twin, his best friend to him, sobbing.
Fred was gone…
