A/N: I wrote this story in one sitting. It was a brutal few hours but I just had to write what was in my head at the moment, and I was in a daze for the rest of the day. As always, the characters and entire wizarding world idea belongs to JK Rowling. I simply decided for some reason that Fred's death wasn't heartbreaking enough and that we needed it from George's point of view. Please review!
The silence of Hogwarts was perhaps the worst part. Even though the fighting was brutal and oppressive, there was noise at least. This lack of sound was somehow more shocking than the destruction to the school. How many times had George Weasley set off fireworks with his brother for no other reason than to cause a little chaos? Now, as his, Angelina Johnson, and Lee Jordan's footsteps echoed in the corridor, he irrationally wished for one Filibuster's finest just so that the school he had grown up in wouldn't feel so empty, so that his head would stop pounding with the words of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
They reached the Great Hall, the agreed meeting place for any survivors, and the utter devastation of the place shook George quite hard. It was usually full of chattering voices and bright, shimmering candles, and he had somehow expected it to still be. While completely packed with students and adults alike, the place was like a cathedral in its quietness and the candles had been lowered in luminescence. The house tables were gone and people huddled together in packs, either talking quietly or nursing small wounds. The people with more serious injuries were on a raised platform being treated by a frantic Madam Pomfrey and a handful of helpers. All around him, people shivered and cried and crowded together. The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall, and George couldn't bear to look at their faces. Angelina involuntarily convulsed and Lee swallowed hard. They slowly walked into the Hall, desperate to meet the eyes of their friends and be reassured that they were fine.
Angelina let out a relieved gasp as she saw Alicia and Katie sitting together near the front of the Hall with their arms around each other's necks. She quickly embraced them.
Katie glanced up at George and asked, "What happened to your ear?"
"Oh, well…" He considered how best to explain it. "Eh, it's a long story."
She narrowed her eyes. "Hope you didn't get into too much trouble this year." Considering where they were and how the first wave of the battle had gone, George found it uncomfortably funny.
"Who, me?" he answered, forcefully lighthearted. "Look at it this way: at least now you can tell me and Fred apart."
Katie hesitated, and then nodded, almost sadly. Alicia averted her eyes. Though curious for a moment, he quickly shook off the feeling; after all that had happened, everyone was expected to be feeling a bit odd. Angelina stayed with the girls and he and Lee kept going.
As they walked through the crowd of survivors, they saw many people they recognized. Dean Thomas was holding a wet cloth to his head and Seamus Finnigan sat next to him with a black eye. A group of Ravenclaws, including twins Padma and Parvati Patil, Terry Boot, and Michael Corner acknowledged them, each with bandages and cuts. Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt, as well as various other adults, moved about the crowd and seemed to be attempting to organize the remaining fighters in the hour You-Know-Who had given them. Neville Longbottom, who looked more energized than George had ever seen him, was talking to Luna Lovegood.
Harry was nowhere to be found, and he nervously wondered if he had gone to meet the Dark Lord. No, no, surely not. He quickly noticed that Fred wasn't around either. George tried to think of where his twin had been stationed. The other side of the school perhaps? Either way, George wanted to see him.
As he scanned the Hall, George caught sight of his family. For a moment, he was surprised he hadn't noticed their shock of red hair immediately, but then he saw that they all had their heads bowed and were in a clump around someone in the middle row, the row of those who had passed. His stomach dropped in dread as he made walked through the crowd to where they were.
Lee went over to help Oliver Wood who was helping a limping Cho Chang get to the raised platform, leaving George alone to make the trip to his ginger-haired family members. He couldn't see who they were crowded around because they were blocking the person from view. Ginny caught sight of him when he was thirty feet away, her eyes red from crying and her face wet and blotchy. She got up and ran to him. She slammed into him hard and hugged him tightly.
"What? What happened? Is it Harry?" George asked, but Ginny only sobbed harder. He rubbed her shoulders and he slowly made his way closer to his family.
His little sister was still clutching him unyieldingly, but no one else seemed to notice he was there. His mother was lying across the body, shaking with sobs, and his father stroked her head with tears silently running down his face. Percy sat in a chair close by with his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Bill was kneeling at the head of the person with Fleur, obscuring the face from view, but George could make out a shock of red hair.
His stomach did frightened flips. Who was it? He did a quick look of who of their family wasn't there. Ron? Charlie? And where was his twin? He shouldn't be making the family worry about where he was, now of all times. He better show up soon.
Bill got up and hugged Fleur tightly and George saw who it was they were crying over.
It was Fred.
And it stopped. Everything just stopped.
Unaware of what he was doing, he shook off Ginny and stumbled forward. He fell to his knees in front of his twin and stared without seeing at the face, a face that was so like his own. He dimly felt a hand on his shoulder.
Or did he? George wasn't sure of anything anymore. It felt like everything was happening to someone else, that he was just a spectator peeking in on someone else's life. Was that why he felt so numb? Too many thoughts buzzed around in his head that he couldn't grab on to one of them. Every time he tried, it sluggishly slipped away. Everything was dulled down to its simplest form and even then it was only a passing notion in a disoriented mind. What was up? What was down? Where was he right now? What time - what day - what month - what year was it? He didn't know and in a way didn't care. The only thing that was real was the face in front of him, burning and pale at the same time, going in and out of focus. Noise and color blended together, thought and feeling mixed. Everything was the same. What stood out was the face below him, what stood out from the jumble of George's mind was that Fred Weasley lay before him, dead.
But he couldn't be.
Disbelief shook some of the cobwebs from his senses and he slowly took in what he had been gazing at. Nose, sprinkled with freckles. Eyes, closed as though sleeping. Hair, composed in utter disarray. Ears, whole and unharmed. Lips, curled up in a slight smile.
He gasped a little. A - a smile?
And then time and memory collided. George was suddenly back to age eleven when they got their letters to Hogwarts while sitting at the table having breakfast. Fred laughed in glee as they tore open their letters in unison. Then he was five years old in their room, watching as Fred fumed over his broken broomstick. His face broke into a devilish grin as he heard Ron's terrified screams from above. Then they were eighteen, purchasing the building that would become Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and Fred's satisfied expression as he pictured the future for the two of them.
George shut his eyes tightly but that didn't stop the memories from surging forward, one after the other.
Seventeen and the peals of laughter that they both emitted while planning the rebellion against Umbridge. Twelve and they were celebrating becoming Beaters on the Quidditch team. Seven and Fred smirked and winked at his twin as he gripped hands with Ron, preparing to make an Unbreakable Vow.
Then memories flashed by so quickly that he couldn't keep up with them anymore. Every good feeling and happy memory that George had ever had went through his head. They all had to do with the young man who was laying before him, who would no longer move, who would no longer laugh. But he's keeping on smiling, even while he was far away.
He died the way he lived; smiling, laughing, perhaps even happy. Maybe that should have comforted him in some small way, but nothing could be further from the truth. George ran the thought over and over in his mind. He died happy. That means he didn't feel pain. He died laughing, and that's almost justice. That's the way he should have gone out, fighting and happy. No better way to die… to die… No, don't think about that. Just know that he died with a smile on his face… he died with a… he died...
Then it all came rushing back; feeling, sound, thought, color, emotion, time; it all came back with a roaring intensity. George doubled over as though he had been stabbed in the stomach. The voices around him were too loud, the lights were too bright, the emotions were too much. He longed to take the knife out and go back to a state of numbness, of unfeeling, but could not keep the waves of emotion from crashing over him like a tidal wave.
Fred Weasley, best friend, partner in crime, brother, twin - dead, gone.
But he couldn't be. No, this was all a mistake. This wasn't Fred. This was someone pretending to be Fred, someone who looked like him. He wouldn't leave his brother like this, wouldn't leave him alone. He was always around. Any second now, he'd walk in. Badly bruised maybe, with scratches and cuts, but he would be alive. He'd be there.
Or - or - an illusion surely. Nobody was here. They were crying over nothing. Some kind of spell or a boggart or something was making them believe someone was here when there wasn't. Fred would walk in any second and that illusion would be broken. George clung to this thought like a drowning man clung to a log. He would walk in and laugh about how silly they all looked, crying over nothing at all. Just wait, and he'll come.
George waited. He waited for that booming laugh of his brother's that signaled that he was hiding somewhere close.
It didn't come.
Okay, George thought adamantly, if Fred wants to waste time, that's his own business. I'll reach out and… Yeah, my hand will just go through the body, because there's nothing there. Stop everyone from crying. I can't bear them crying.
With trembling fingers he reached out to grab what he was thoroughly convinced was just air. Something much like an electric shock went through him as he laid his hand on the cold forehead of his twin.
He broke down. George Weasley had never cried like this, and never would again. His being was crumbling away like a pile of leaves on a windy day. Hot tears cascaded down his face and dropped onto Fred's clothes as his body was wracked with sobs. His shoulders shook profusely and he heaved deep breaths, his throat raw and dry. His head hurt as though a hammer were bashing it and his stomach ached as it forced tears out.
To never see his twin again… it was more than he could bear. He would rather die than spend the rest of his life without Fred. He didn't know what would happen once dead, but knew he would be much better off. As he wept for all he was worth, he didn't know how he could ever be happy again.
What cruel world was this? How could it give and take life without so much as a blink? Somewhere, George knew, life was going on much like it had been, and that didn't make any sense. Fred was dead. His light had gone out. How did nobody outside these walls notice? Why was the world still spinning, since it had ended the second his twin had closed his eyes for the last time?
Hot wrath seared through him. Was he the only one in this entire world that cared anymore? Fred certainly didn't seem to care that he left his brother here.
Why did you leave? he thought desperately. I still need you! You don't get to leave that easily! There's still the shop, there's still the rest of your life, and there's still me! I need you! After all this, I could have been fine if only - That's it then? You just up and leave me to continue - continue living by myself? You selfish prat! You could have survived this! For me! Why didn't you duck, get out of the way, something! You said we'll get through this and now you're gone and I'll never see you again!
George gritted his teeth. He begged himself to stop thinking so he could stop the pain, if only for a moment. But it didn't heed his pleas. It washed over him with renewed ferocity. It forced him to think, to mull over, to feel.
He needed somebody to blame for his anguish. Somebody, anybody. It came to him with shining clarity: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
I'll kill you myself, if Harry doesn't get you first! You cold, heartless snake! You've taken everything away from me!
His pulse raced. His skin crawled, and he felt like he could run for miles and never stop. And he wanted to, wanted to run far, far away from everything. He wanted to hide from this grief, this anger that didn't belong to him.
I'll kill him, he screamed in his head savagely as he let loose an unearthly howl of sorrow that made every person in the Great Hall's blood run cold. You-Know-Who! And all of his followers! I'll kill every single one of them! You will pay. You will pay for every single person you've killed. You'll pay for it all. You'll pay for Fred! I swear it!
And Fred, you're probably up there laughing at me! You left me alone! You left me alone and you don't even care! I… I didn't get to say goodbye. You hear that Fred? You left before I could tell you that! So, goodbye. I'll miss you, you stupid jerk. I hate you! I… I…
He glared down at his twin's form and felt a wave of love and sadness wash over him, clearing away the irrational anger. He squeezed Fred's still hand and felt his heart constrict.
No, he thought sadly. No, of course I don't hate you. I really don't. I'll miss you until the day I die and come up to join you. I'll never hate you. I… We never should have come back to Hogwarts, Fred. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. For everything.
George stayed like that for a long while; head bowed with tears streaming down his face. For how long, he'll never know. But then, You-Know-Who's voice broke the terse silence of the Weasleys.
"Harry Potter is dead."
That was all George heard before he was cast into an even deeper despair. Everything was lost. Harry, brave Harry, was gone too. There was nothing left to fight for. Sadness crashed over him with crippling strength once again.
After another undetermined amount of time, people in the Great Hall started stirring from where they had been frozen listening to the Dark Lord's announcement. They all headed outside. Unwillingly and before he could stop himself, he looked around at the other bodies. He immediately saw Tonks and Lupin, together even in death, right next to where he had been kneeling for so long. Sick to his stomach, he looked away before he could, by chance, see another friend. He stiffly got up and followed his family, where he wasn't sure. It didn't matter now though.
First Dumbledore. Then Fred, Tonks, and Lupin. Now Harry. What else would they take away?
Of course, George had no idea of the monstrous turn of events that would soon occur. Harry Potter would come back from the dead and defeat the Dark Lord spectacularly, once and for all. The wizarding world would rejoice. Thousands of lives would be saved.
But there was only one that mattered to George, and he was gone. And no matter what, through the happiness of marriage and the excitement of having children, there would always be something missing. Something was broken from the whole that day and it would never heal.