As I walked through the bent double doors and into the partially destroyed Great Hall, I was feeling, well, jubilant.
Oh, the battle wasn't over. No, it was far from done. But I had just been on the third floor landing with a couple of Aurors and we had kicked some serious Death Eater ass. So it was quite natural that I was feeling exceptionally smug strutting through those ancient wooden doors. I was George Weasley, of course I was feeling boastful.
There had been one thing, though, one thing that was sort of weird. As I said, we had been kicking some Death eater ass, and we were just finishing them off -with, what I might add, was a spectacular killing curse on my part- when I got the strangest feeling. It was small, and maybe I shouldn't have noticed it, but it got me sort of panicked. It was sort of like... having a peice of your heart ripped away from the whole, like having a part of your existance fade.
And then I could only think one thing: I had to get to my family.
So I had left the Aurors alone, certain that they didn't need me, and made my way cautiously down the crumbling yet ever moving staircase. I blasted a couple bastards out of my way while I was running.
As soon as I got to the Great hall, smug and proud, my life ended. Because the first thing I saw was a group of orange haired people gathered in a small group on the floor.
My world froze, and I could only think one thing: who?
But somehow, even as every fibre of my being screamed to deny it, I already knew.
Of course I did.
Of course.
I wakled more slowly now, not wanting to see; not wanting to be forced to absorb the truth.
Mum was draped over him like a rag doll, sobbing with total abandon. Dad's arm was around her and tears dripped down his face. The rest of my family were in an oval shape around him, all faces red and wet with tears.
Mum looked up as I came closer, but I refused to look down at the figure on the ground. What I didn't know couldn't touch me, right? "Oh, George," she sobbed, and then broke down again.
My eyes ahead, I stumbled to the head of the oval and fell to my knees, still looking straight so that I couldn't see the figure on the ground; grasp the impossibility of the situation, because there had never been a moment in my life when I had ever thought that this would happen.
I saw Harry, Ron and Hermoine come into the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione separated and went to comfort the rest of my family.
Harry, however, stayed put, taking in his surroundings. He made eye contact with me, but quickly looked away when I noticed. He looked somewhere to my left, and his face blanched. Suddenly he turned around and stumbled out of the Great Hall, pale and shocked.
I glanced over to my left, hardly caring what I saw, until I saw the still, peaceful looking forms of Remus and Tonks, side by side, as though sleeping. Tears sprang to my eyes and my throat tightened up. And suddenly I couldn't deny it anymore.
I looked down.
And almost screamed.
Because in a moment of changed logic, I saw myself, dead on the ground.
Have you ever seen your own corpse before? I would suggest avoiding it. It's quite unsettling.
I could do nothing but stare down at my face in shock. The red hair and freckles, the pale complexion and oval face. Most of all, the upturned lips, forever smoothed into a last, defiant grin.
But something was wrong with this dead face that was so obviously mine. Something was... far too balanced. The ears! There were two. Why?
And then it finally hit me, and my swayed logic was forced into the depression of reality.
This was not me.
This was my brother.
My twin.
My other half.
And then, even as I realized that this was not me. As I realized that it was Fred, whom I had never thought of living without, I could not cry.
Because my warped logic had changed yet again.
Oh, I knew that my twin was dead alright. It was just so... impossible. Fred... who was born only minutes before me, but had always seemed to be the leader. Fred, who had brought everyone so many smiles. Fred, who laughed at my jokes before scowling at me and claiming them to be pathetic.
"Saint-like. You see... I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"
"Pathetic. Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?"
I mean, all things considered, surely Fred was about to jump up and scream, "Boo!" Then I would hit him and Mum would yell and Dad would pretend to be mad while secretly hiding a smile. The Weasleys would go back to the Burrow with Percy and be a happy and loving family forever. Right?
Wrong. So wrong.
Even as I realized how very wrong I was, even as I knew that my best friend was dead, I still denied it. Tears welled up in my eyes but I bit them back with all my strength.
"Fred?" I was surprised at how weak and vulnerable my voice was. "C'mon Fred, this isn't funny."
He didn't move, of course.
"Fred, stop," I begged. "Come back."
When I said that, I had a flashback to the last conversation I'd ever had with him.
We had been at our flat on top of WWW in Diagon Alley, grabbing our last things before heading to Hogwarts for the battle. We were going to dissaparate to Hogsmeade before going in through the Room of Requirement. After dissaparating, I knew I wouldn't have any time to talk to my brother. I was a little worried -I knew we would lose great people- but I had never dreamed of what was coming. Not in a million years.
"Hey, Fred?" I said.
"Yeah?" Talking to Fred had always been natural, as easy as breathing, and so I had no trouble saying what might have been a hard conversation for others.
"So I've been thinking."
"About what?" I knew exactly how to start this conversation. Start out with something small and unimportant.
"The shop."
"Why?"
"well, they say this is gonna be a pretty intense battle, with you-know-who and all, and I was just thinking, you know, if anything happens-"
"What will we do with the shop," Fred finished for me. Around him, I only ever needed to finish my own sentances when Fred got drunk on Fire Whiskey.
"Yeah."
"I thought about that, too."
"And?"
"And I decided that since we're both coming back here after, we don't need to worry about it." He said it fiercely, with finality, his joking manor gone for once.
"But, Fred, what if something did happen, to either of us?"
"Well, first of all, nothing is going to happen to us." The seriousness left his face and a familiar teasing grin spread across his face. "Second, if either of us was to get blasted, it would obviously be you, since I am clearly more intelligent and far better looking."
I had to smile. Fred could always make me smile. "Just come back after, okay?"
"Whatever." He had grinned and then spun around, vanishing.
That was the last conversation I'd had with him.
Come back...
My last words to him rang in my ears like gunfire. And everything else disappeared. The cold stone under my knees, mum and dad. The entire Great Hall swirled around me and more pain than I had ever felt in all my nineteen years hit me with the force of a wrecking ball.
Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.
The words meant nothing.
I felt myself slipping sideways where I sat, but I couldn't seem to keep myself upright.
I let out one sob of pure anguish.
Then, darkness took me.
And I did not feel again.
--
So, what do you think? I totally didn't plan this. It just sort of happened. I know it might be really bad, but I'd like some feelback. I was wondering if I should leave this a oneshot or continue on with the funeral and stuff. I dunno. No major flames please! R&R!