*based on a headcanon seen on Tumblr*
George Weasley closed his eyes and died on his 75th birthday, April 1st, 2053. He'd thought about sticking around for a few more decades, but really, Mr. Weasley of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was tired.
Not tired of life; no, never that. Ang had made sure that he would never tire of life, even though the thrice-cursed pox had cut hers off short two years, three months and seven days ago. Freddie and Roxi and the grandnuggets (grandpranksters, he thought, with no small amount of pride) had provided enough to live for since then.
No, he mused, in the last few moments before he made his choice, he was tired of living without his twin, without Fred. It was an old wound, one that had healed (those blasted pranksters and grandpranksters again, along with some fool of a Quidditch player he'd conned into marrying him), but even old, healed wounds still ached sometimes, and without said fool of a Quidditch player, his aches tended to ache rather more than normal.
He would never tire of life because he knew that Fred would smack him left and right and feed him Nosebleed Nougat for eternity if he tired of life. Fred had, after all, given his so George and the rest of Britain could have one. George had certainly not disappointed. WWW was now a massive enterprise, ably helmed by Roxanne and none other than Cousin Molly, with the grandpranksters looking very promising. George always knew Percy had some poor repressed mischievous genes in there somewhere.
But being a little tired and a little achy on the inside for fifty-five years merited, he thought, a rest and some relaxation. George had always known life was a choice, and he considered that, under the circumstances, choosing to hang about as long as he had was admirable. He'd made Fred proud, ensured Harry and then James had passed on a certain piece of trouble-making parchment, and he was just a little worn down now.
And so Mr. Weasley of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes chose, after the revelers had left and Roxanne had cleaned up the remnants of the newest line of products (George really was overwhelmingly proud of his not-so-little prankster, she'd turned out so well) to find that rest and relaxation he'd been needing.
And so old green eyes closed and young green eyes opened, seeing a smirking face he knew all too well.
"Hiya there, Your Holyness."
Fifty-five years was not long enough to break some habits. George didn't miss a beat.
"Gred, how marvelous to see you again," he shot back, casual as could be. "What dump have you dragged me into this time?"
"Excellent question, Forge, and one I'm not able to answer. A friend told me to say that this is, as they say, your party. Said friend thought he was very clever, it actually being your birthday and all."
George took his eyes off Fred's face for a moment to glance curiously around.
"We appear to be in the shop, how it looked when we first bought it, specifically."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "Not surprising, I suppose. Mine was the same, and you never could come up with anything original."
"Yours?"
George was treated to a truly masterful eye roll. "Yes, mine. You've gotten slow. Don't you think everybody goes through his?"
The more recently deceased Weasley shrugged, not bothering with a verbal reply. There were a few – two, more precisely – questions that needed answering, and one that he was afraid would be mildly awkward, considering his twin's history with one certain fool of a Quidditch player (he really had no idea how either of them managed it).
"The kids and grandkids and family will be okay, right? And where's… ah. Where's Angelina?"
Fred chuckled. "Don't worry, George. She was the only one without red hair that could have put up with you for as long as she did, and I am in no way angry about that. Angie helped you live, and I'm grateful. She's waiting with a few other people I think you'll enjoy meeting. As for the family you left behind… yeah, they'll be okay. You were young, for a wizard, but I know they'll understand."
George nodded. Well then, onto the most important business. "This isn't it, right? There's somewhere else more permanent?"
And now the smirk turned into a true smile, happy and unfettered with any cares, and it was quickly matched on the other's face. Fred merely pointed at the store door. Without a second thought, George strode across in a few long strides and, as he had done everything in life, walked confidently through into death.
Death looked suspiciously like Hogwarts on a sunny spring day, which George was just fine with. He stepped through the shop door and landed right at the door to the Great Hall, Fred reattached to his side as though he'd never left.
The doors opened of their own accord (that was a new feature, and if lots of things moved of their own accord George would need to recalculate a few of his favorite pranks) and revealed a throng of people. The first ones to get to him were, of course, his parents. Molly senior threw her arms around his neck, Arthur hovering behind her with a slightly watery smile.
"It's so very good to see you again, Georgie!" she sobbed, as he returned the strangling hug and patted his mother's back.
"Good to see you too, Mum, and you Dad." He looked around, searching… and then she hit him midstride (Mrs. Weasley barely got out of the way in time), arms wrapping around him.
"Hey there, Ang. Long time no see," and then he swung the dark-haired girl around and gave a long kiss that drew wolf whistles from the small crowd. George promptly flipped them all off and continued kissing Angelina, or at least until Mrs. Weasley smacked his hand.
Angelina drew away from the kiss and buried her face in his shirt. "Missed you, George," she mumbled. He planted one last kiss on her hair.
"Yeah, I missed you too, you prankster." They stood there a few more moments before she pulled away and smiled at Fred.
"Thanks for bringing him Freddy. Shall we introduce him?"
"To who?" and everyone grinned like they knew something he didn't.
Uncles Gideon, Fabien, and Bilius, Professor McGonagall (George couldn't decide if the look on her face was exasperation or mild terror at the Weasley twins being reunited; probably both), Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Tonks, Remus, Kingsley… no one from his years at Hogwarts, he'd been the first to go, which was fine by him… and there was Sirius, standing next to a suspiciously familiar scrawny, specky git with a not-so-familiar beautiful redhead next to him. Fred grinned when he saw the direction of his twin's gaze beckoned them over, along with Remus and Tonks.
"Georgie, I'd like you to meet someone very dear to us. This is James Potter, architect of many fine pranks and a trailblazer for mischief makers everywhere, along with his charming wife, Lily Evans Potter, who joined him in seventh year in the limelight."
George extended a hand and they both took it, even as Lily rolled her eyes and George heard a snort and a chuckle that sounded like it came from the general direction of Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore.
"Mr. Potter, glad to meet you."
"Likewise, Mr. Weasley. I followed your career with great interest, especially after Sirius and Remus arrived."
George looked at the spitting image of Harry quizzically. "Why should the three of you done that?"
It was Lily who answered. "The map, George. The map."
It took George a second too long. Lupin shook his head exasperatedly.
"George, I was a werewolf. Moon. Werewolf. Moony."
James shook his head proudly, and it looked like… no. How many times had George seen a certain Patronus shake its head exactly like that? He looked quickly at Sirius, who grinned a troublemaker's smile and wagged a hand exactly like a… paw.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?" he asked incredulously.
Sirius growled, startling George. "Not Wormtail, any longer. The prat. But otherwise, yep."
George didn't want to know and didn't ask. He was too busy staring at the three in awe. Finally, he spoke.
"You gentlemen are the greatest pranksters in the history of Hogwarts."
Sirius grinned, in a vaguely primal way, and gave his best yeah, we know shrug. James laughed and Remus just smiled, Tonks and Lily chuckling in the background.
Another thought struck George, remembering again that proud Patronus.
"Wait… Harry. Did he know?"
This time, Fred answered. "He did indeed, brother of mine."
"And the little shit never TOLD me?"
Sirius cocked his head and asked, in a mock-confused tone, "Now where did I hear that exact same line?"
Fred laughed. "I said, word for word, the exact same thing when I found out. But look at it this way! Now there's five of us, and Lily and Tonks like to help out with pranks around the castle, and" – his voiced dropped – "Don't tell McGonagall, but Dumbledore is an excellent prankster."
McGonagall sighed and dropped her head in her hands, Elphinstone's hand sympathetically on her shoulder.
"And this time they won't even leave after seven years."