SpoilersSpoilersSpoilersSpoilersSpoilersSpoilersSpoilers

This is a six part, three chapter tribute to the late and great Fred Weasley. The first part of Chapter One is Fred's point of view, second part George's, and so on.

A Tribute to Fred Weasley

"-You're joking, Perce!" I shouted as the Death Eater I was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells.

Pride shot through my blood like butterbeer, and if I'd been the crying sort (and not in the middle of a deadly battle) I might have shed a tear of delight for my brother Percy. Percy! Percy was here, fighting on our side and joking while he was at it! I suppose nearly sixteen years with George and I had rubbed off despite his protests, and loyalty to his family lay where ambition couldn't poison. I still can't pretend I mi-

The Death Eater/Minister of Magic fell brilliantly to the ground with a good amount of spike-sort things pushing grotesquesly through his skin. I grimaced with satisfaction, and then grinned congratulations around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione before turning toward Percy. I still can't pretend I missed the big prat while he was gone, especially after what he did, but he was my brother. My older brother, and even through his dark betrayal I'd wanted to love him. I just hadn't realized it, I guess.

Damn. What was I saying?

I shook my head a bit to clear it of all murkily boring thoughts, reminding myself of what just happened. Glee bounced up and down inside of me, and my teeth flashed a smile: "You actually are joking, Perce...I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-"

A noise even larger than my favourite Decoy Detonater cut me off mid-sentence.

I dunno where I am and I know exactly where I am and then I've no idea again and then I realise I'm naked but then realise I'm dreaming and then realise that as I've just sat up I can't possible be and then decide a stroll would do me good.

So I stand and stretch a bit.

The air is very quiet; it bothers me and I whistle to break the silence, bouncing awkwardly forward at an almost casual pace, glancing around me as I go. There's nothing here: white, soothing mist leading me down a tunnel or a-

A passageway! That's where I am! On a passageway! One I've been with George at least a hundred times during forbidden expeditions to Hogsmeade, on our way to collect sweets from Honeydukes and tricks from Zonko's. But how-? The question lingers as my memory winds slowly backwards. Time seems to slow down...or speed up.

Only one thing is certain; I'm not dead.

I'm not.

I'm not.

I'm not!.

"'fraid so!" says dead Uncle Bilius.

Crap.

George

I stand. I brush off my robes. I wipe stale tears from my eyes and move my feet. Left. Right. All my might. My mother doesn't notice, though, as she is hunched over my dead brother. My father is hunched over my dead brother. My brother is hunched over my dead brother. Percy notices, though. Percy notices and turns and makes a hopeless, pinwheeling sort of motion with his arms as he whispers, "What are you doing?"

My initial reaction is to ignore him, shrug his voice off as I did so easily before. And I don't know why I don't, I just don't..."To fight," I say, suprised at my words and the strength in my response. Was I really? Was I really going back to fight? I didn't know that. Huh. But I've said it, so it must be true.

"George, you can't go!" Percy's voice is strangled, "Are you mad?"

"Dunno" I say calmly, moving forward.

"Do you have a death wish!?!"

"Dunno." I have reached the doors.

"George, wait!"

And I do wait. Not out of loyalty or obedience, but because Rubeus Hagrid has just lumbered into the hall with Harry Potter's dead body in his arms.

Harry Potter.

What does that name mean to the wizarding community? He immediately brings to mind a public figure, a hero and a villian. A word in a book and a picture on a newspaper. When George Weasley thinks of him, he's the scrawny kid on my old Quidditch team, best mates with my little brother, and the boy who likes Mum to put a disgustingly large amount of strawberry jam on his toast for breakfast.

Fred Weasley.

What does that name mean to the wizarding community? He immediately brings to mind (if at all) the young and dashing owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, that lurvely shop off Diagon Alley. A photocopy of the what's-his-name other one, always good for a proper laugh!

When George Weasley thinks of him, he's the guy with a birthmark of sparks on his ankle, who sent a girl he fancied in second year a box of dungbombs and was shocked when she got upset. He cried when his pet lizard died on the day of his seventh birthday party and once took a week's worth of detention for a first year who didn't manage to keep her test-box of Skiving Snackboxes out of Filch's sight. He is absolutely brilliant and absolutely barmy and absolutely great and absolutely horrid and absolutely was.

Harry Potter and Fred Weasley are dead.

Who else is gone?

I turn back to Percy and cling to my big brother as the night plays out.

So goes Part One, which is the part actually covering events in the book. I'm not going to bother (Potter Puppet Pals!) describing the whole final battle thing with Harry coming back to life or whatever, but Part Two should be up soon. That'll be the immediate aftermath of Fred's death. And then Part Three is the aftermath of the aftermath.

PLEASE REVIEW!!! I'M BEGGING YOU!!! Tell me what you loved and what you liked and what you didn't like and what you hated about this story so far!