"You're lying."

These were the first words out of George Weasley's mouth when his brother Percy had grabbed him by the shoulders, sobbing, and choked out a single word: "Fred."

"You're lying, Perce."

Percy continued to cry, and George shoved him.

"Stop crying, you great prat, and tell me what happened."

Percy managed to collect himself for a moment. "Death eaters—Fred and I—Blasting Curse—

Ron and Harry—moved the body—"
George took a step back and looked Percy in the eye, his worst fears confirmed. He took off running in the opposite direction.

And then everything was crashing down, George needed proof, he needed help, quite honestly, he needed Fred. Fred. His best friend and his partner in crime, his twin brother. He kept running, eyes watering, passing crying groups of kids, hunched together in the ruins of his old school, which always seemed so solid, so impenetrable. Nothing like this would have happened in his first year- the year he and Fred has nicked the Marauder's Map from Filch's office, his first chance to cause trouble away from home. He sped towards the great hall, now drawing concerned glances.

He heard the voice of Ernie Macmillan, calling from across the corridor, "Oy! Fred, are you okay!"

George burst into the great hall, full of determination to find Fred, because nothing else mattered. His heart sank as he saw his mother, and as he moved closer, he noticed her hunched over a stretcher. He made his way over, her back obscuring the body that lay underneath. There was no way. It had to be that first year that he saw in the courtyard earlier, or maybe Lavender Brown, Ron's creepy ex-girlfriend who was attacked a few hours ago.

His mother rose from the ground, and George froze. A flash of ginger hair crossed his vision. Laying on the floor at the feet of his horror-stricken mother, was his twin.

George screamed, catching the attention of the entire hall. He slammed his fists on the wall as he bellowed, "NO!"

He sank down to his knees, and his mother put her arm around him. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. Fred was playing a cruel joke on him, and they would be laughing about it in no time.

"Georgie…come sit down." His father, sitting on a bench nearby, looked absolutely defeated.

But George did not budge. Saying nothing, he grabbed his twin's hand, now lifeless.

"I need you, Freddie," He thought. "We all need you. Mum, Dad, Charlie, Bill, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Harry, even Hermione…"

His thoughts were interrupted by Voldemort's booming voice, allowing them and hour to collect their dead. Dead. He cringed. No, no, Fred wasn't…

He looked up at the red, puffy eyes of his mother. His father held his head in his hands. Percy was seating next to him, now much more calm than he had been only a few minutes ago, a comforting hand on his shoulder. And Ginny, sandwiched between Bill and Charlie, was crying the hardest of all. For George, the tears did not come.

His family did not deserve this.