So, my first fan fiction of this account shall be a depressing George and Fred story, will it?
Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I don't feel like I'll be able to get Harry Potter out of my system until I write a few stories. This may not be very good, because after I first start writing for a fandom, (yes, this will be my first Harry Potter fan fiction) I usually need a couple tries until I feel comfortable.
The Ghost Of You
It surprised him, how long it took for the idea to occur to him. He was pretty smart, or at least he thought so. Maybe not as smart as Hermione, but he was by no means dumb. Therefore, the idea should have occurred to him long before. George had been alone, walking down Diagon Alley, thinking about Fred, his dead twin brother. Every day that passed was only worse than the one previous. He knew this was true for the rest of his family as well, but he had the feeling he had the worst of it. After all, he was the one who had lost his twin, that he had spent every day with for his entire life. It was like losing half your soul, or half your heart.
Nights were the hardest. During the day, he could try hard to distract himself, and manage, if even for just a brief time, to think of other things. But at night, when he was laying alone in a room that only reminded him more of his brother, for all of Fred's things were still up around the house, it was impossible to think of anything, or anyone else.
It was as he was walking though, that something, an idea, came to him. He'd seen young children, obviously soon to be first years, running around excitedly, getting ready for their very first year at Hogwarts. He smiled as he passed some of them, but tried not to think too hard about it. If he thought of Hogwarts, he remembered many good things, time spent with his brother, and Lee Jordan, and the Quidditch team, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione. All these memories made him sad, because Fred was beside him in all of them.
But he couldn't push them all back, and a few filtered to the front of his mind. One of them was he and Fred's great and grand escape from Hogwarts in their final year. The look one the faces of the people around them, and that horrible old bat...that made him smile, this time a little more genuinely than when he'd smiled at the first years. Good old Peeves, saluting Fred during their final goodbye. Peeves may be a bit annoying on his best days, but George had been very glad to hear that the ghost had wrecked havoc after their departure.
It was thinking of Peeves that did it.
The idea hit him like a train, like the Hogwarts express going as fast as it possible could, and he stopped walking mid stride. Behind him, a man bumped into him, and mumbled lowly under his breath, but became silent when George directed a glare at him.
Ghosts.
Ghosts as Hogwarts.
Why hadn't he thought of it before!?
Plenty of wizards had died, and chosen to return to this life as ghosts, spending the rest of their eternity in the halls of Hogwarts. Wasn't it possible then...wasn't it...
He must be, George thought, his heart and breath both coming faster, racing one another. We were so happy at Hogwarts, and there's no way he wouldn't take the chance to come back to us.
Come back to me.
George turned on his heels, and started to race back to his home, so caught up in his new thought that it didn't occur to him until he'd taken at least a dozen steps to just Apparate. He did so, ignoring the still a little weird feeling of it, and the moment he arrived in his room, he snatched up his wand, and shouted, "Accio, broom!"
His broomstick came crashing through the house, from wherever it was that he'd left it, and he mounted it quickly. He knew going there by broomstick would take forever, but he couldn't Apparate into Hogwarts, and maybe he could have snuck on board the Hogwarts Express, but he just didn't want to wait that long.
It was a long and tiring trip, and many times George thought he was going to slip off his broom, both because he grew tired, and from the rain that started up minutes after he took off.
When he finally reached Hogwarts, landing his broom on the Quidditch field, he couldn't help but feel saddened by the thought that Fred might not be in there after all. Maybe he had come all this way for no reason.
No. He has to be in there. George told himself, holding on desperately to hope. If he was, which he had to be, then George would quit his job, no matter how successful he was, and get some job at Hogwarts, so he could be close to Fred again. He'd never get a teacher's position, at least not at this age, but maybe they would let him do something else. Assistant Ground's Keeper, maybe. He'd do it. He'd even clean all of Hogwarts itself, if it meant he could be with Fred again. There was no way he'd be able to go back to his old home, if Fred was far away at Hogwarts. They had to spend their lives together, side by side, like it had always been.
Sneaking into Hogwarts was easy, as he'd long ago memorized the old shortcuts and hidden hallways. In was in withing minutes, and looked around, not sure where to even start.
George moved from hallway to hallway, shouting his brother's name. He checked every classroom, and every secret passage, thinking maybe he'd find Fred there. It was very possible, wasn't it? After all, only he and his brother, and Harry and probably a few others, knew about them, so it would make sense that Fred would choose to wait for him there, in some place that held meaning for them.
"Fred?" he called, moving through Hogwarts at an excruciatingly slow pace. "Fred, where are you?"
He began to grow desperate after hours had passed, with zero results. As a result, he began to ask the paintings if they had seen Fred's spirit. Non of them had to ask what Fred looked like, as they all remembered the twins, and every time, they would tell him no, a sad look in their painted eyes.
"Have you seen him?" he asked The Painted Lady, and she looked at him sadly, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen him, George."
He started to come across other ghosts, and his spirits rose a little again. They would know for sure. They would tell him where George was.
But...they all told him the same thing the paintings had, that none of them had seen him, and they all looked at him with the same sad eyes that felt such pity.
"Peeves!" George shouted, upon finding the ghost. He ran over, and asked, before Peeves could even reply to him, "Have you seen Fred, Peeves? He had to have become a ghost, right? He came here to Hogwarts, right? Where is he, Peeves?"
Peeves, for the first time since George had known him, didn't respond with some stupid silly voice, or joke. He instead floated a little lower, so that he and George were eye to eye, and shook his head.
"He's not here, George."
His words sucked the hope out of the lone twin. He hadn't said, I haven't seen him, like the other paintings and ghosts had said. He had said, He isn't here.
The words repeated in his head. He isn't here.
He has to be here! He has to be!
"He isn't." Peeves replied, making George realize he'd said this out loud, and not in his head.
George felt something start to trickle down his face, and he wiped the tears away quickly. "You're lying Peeves! Of course you're lying! I should have known better than to ask you!"
Peeves didn't say anything in his defense to this accusation, only said, "I'm sorry."
And George couldn't remain calm any longer.
"Fred!" he shouted loudly, his voice echoing through the halls, as he took off running. "Fred, come out! This isn't funny! I know you're here, Fred! You have to be! You'd come back if you could, wouldn't you!?" The more he shouted, the more desperate he sounded, his sobs mingling with his tears.
"So come out, you git! Come out!"
The halls remained silent in response to his voice, and when George looked around, trying his hardest to catch some glimpse of his twin, all he saw was the pitying look of the paintings.
"COME OUT!" George screamed, falling to his knees, which hit the cold stone floor of Hogwarts hard. He couldn't have been wrong, he just couldn't have. Fred was everything to him, and he was everything to George, so there was no way Fred wouldn't come back, to be with him again.
"Fred!"
But there was no response.
"Fred, come out!"
But no one replied.
"Please! Please come out!"
He was sobbing now, not even looking around anymore, because he didn't want to see the empty halls. Instead, his forehead was against the floor, and he held his stomach, which hurt so much, tears falling to the stone floor so close to his eyes.
"Please be here." he begged. "You can't leave me alone. I can't be alone." George had no idea how to be alone, not after a lifetime of Fred always being there, whether he wanted him at the moment or not.
"Please."
"George?" said a voice, and for a split second, George believed it was Fred, and he looked up. But it wasn't. It was only Professor McGonagall, walking toward him with a confused look in her eyes that turned slowly to understanding as she took in the sight of him on the floor, begging for his twin brother.
"He has to be here, Professor." George sobbed out, as she knelled in front of him. "He wouldn't leave me alone. Please, tell me he's here. Please."
Her eyes said it all, and she didn't bother with any other answer. Instead she wrapped her arms around George, and held him tightly, as his sobs began anew, echoing through the cold, and truly empty hallway.
Well, that was depressing. I'm making myself sniffle, dammit.