Chapter 9
Could this really be it? Could his twin really be under all this dirt, his body lifeless and rotting?
George tried to block the image by staring at Fred's smiling and laughing face in the portrait leaning against his brother's gravestone. His mother knelt beside him to place fresh flowers in the vase beside it.
How could this really be it? He stared at the lifeless stone that was somehow meant to symbolize Fred's crowning achievements and glorious failures. How could this cold, dead stone represent the vibrant, lively spirit that was Fred's?
There were so many things George wanted to say, but they all clogged his mind and stifled his voice. The primary thought that nagged him was if Fred knew what had happened. Did Fred feel the same pain George did? George desperately wanted to ask but was terrified of having to say it out loud. He was so used to having his thoughts already understood and half-completed by Fred that he never needed to voice them. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the realization and awful truth would crash down upon him, the truth that there would never be another person in this world who would understand him as completely as Fred.
To save himself from choking on that thought, George concentrated on his mother's voice as she spoke to Fred and prattled on about the recent events that had transpired.
"Well, Ginny is still helping with Hogwarts. I doubt it will be completely back to normal before the new term begins, but I think enough of it will be cleared to start school anyways. People certainly need something positive to focus on right now. Minerva is hiring new staff, so Ginny and Hermione will be their test subjects I suppose. Hmm… Oh, I told you already that Ron is no longer working the Aurors, right? Well, it seems that he has found something to do in the meantime – I'm not sure, exactly, but it appears he will be Lee's co-anchor on his new radio program. I am certainly glad for that! They are both so hard-working…I know it will be a success. What else?"
"Oh!" a startled voice suddenly interrupted his mum's rambling. She whirled around.
"Angelina, dear!"
"Mrs. Weasley," Angelina smiled as she approached. "How are you?"
"Good," his mum answered sincerely, nodding down at George.
"George?"
George attempted a grin in his friend's direction, and even though it failed, a new light sparkled in Angelina's eyes.
"I'm so glad you're here," Angelina said, coming over to George and hugging him. She pulled apart and smiled again. "It's good to see you. Sorry I haven't been around lately."
George quirked his lips, knowing that it was his fault. He couldn't blame his friends, really. It was hard enough without his refusing to speak to them.
"Not your fault," he muttered, and Angelina's eyes bulged as she glanced back and forth between him and his mother.
"You're speaking again?" she breathed.
"I guess."
"That's great! I mean…"
"It is," his mum agreed, smiling warmly. "I'm going to head back home now. I take it you'll be alright then?"
George nodded and watched his mother Disapparate a few paces away. Beyond the spot where she had stood, Hogwarts gleamed in the distance, still broken but standing proudly.
"Beautiful as always," Angelina murmured, following his line of sight. She sighed suddenly. "Look, I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day… I shouldn't have forced you to go there—"
"Don't worry about it."
Silence reigned for a moment as they both stared at Hogwarts again.
"She still needs a lot of work, but she's coming around," Angelina commented, a wistful smile on her face.
"You're still volunteering?"
She nodded. "I am. Though sometimes it's so hard… There are a lot of memories in there. Terrible memories…" she shuddered. "But good ones, too. Even great ones." She turned to grin at George. "And of course, the handful of ones involving well-thought-out pranks."
"Are there any other kind?" George mused, and Angelina chuckled.
"Hey, are you doing anything later?" she asked abruptly.
"No."
"Would you want to come play a pick-up game of Quidditch with me and Katie? I'm not sure if Alicia or Oliver will be able to make it, and I know Lee is busy doing whatever he does nowadays, so we could use more players. What do you say?" When George didn't respond immediately, Angelina blew out a breath. "Well, I'm asking because once this is all over, I was thinking of trying out for the Harpies."
"You want to go professional?"
"Well, yeah!" Angelina replied. She eyed George shrewdly. "Do you think I'm crazy?"
George shook his head. "Nah. It sounds brilliant."
"You think so? Does that mean you'll help me practice then? I need to train hard!"
George glanced at Fred's gravestone and shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."
A week had passed, and Percy knew it was high time that he return to work. He was feeling loads better, and even though he knew his parents would try to dissuade him from his decision, he just hated being away for so long. He had an important job, and though he knew Hermione was handling it just fine, he really wanted to go back and resume his position. That was the only time he ever really felt useful, where he could put his skills and experience toward something that would benefit everyone.
Besides, life at the Burrow was becoming difficult. Not in a bad way, he supposed, but it just seemed to him that he was the cause of all the tension in the house. Now that George was, miraculously, starting to open up again, Percy felt that his purpose had vanished, and none of his family knew what to say to him anymore. It was returning to how it had always been, when their personalities refused to mesh and when their opinions clashed. Of course, Percy was a different man now, so dialogues with his family, mainly about the foreboding goblin crisis, never became more than fierce discussions as Percy defended his opinions. It was difficult to understand how giving in to the goblins' demands would quell the rebellion – with wands in their hands, he argued, who knew what they would be capable of, now that the wizarding world was still reeling from the prolonged war.
Nevertheless, while he enjoyed the social aspect of the Burrow and its now-peaceful environment, it was becoming exhausting to live there all the time. He began to long for the quiet simplicity of his flat, so before his parents could make another excuse for him to stay, he moved back in and promised to visit often.
The day before Percy returned to work, George visited him, panting and exhausted from flying with his friends. He had been meeting with them frequently to play Quidditch, and while everyone was happy that he was actually doing something outside of the house, Percy worried that he was throwing himself into the game a little too fiercely. Though the visit to Fred's grave had roused George into action, he was exerting himself so much that he had no time to confront the changes that had occurred within himself. Quidditch had become another means of avoiding reality, and Percy worried that George would sink even deeper into depression before they could intervene.
Percy observed George carefully as he tromped into the kitchen and began to guzzle some water from the tap.
"How was the game?" he asked to make small talk.
"Good," George replied, swallowing. "We actually won this time, though it was probably because Oliver was on our side for once. I mean, Alicia and Katie are brilliant flyers, but Lee….well, he's alright. I think it would probably be better if he went back to just commentating."
"Isn't that what he already does, on his radio program?"
"You mean Phoenix? Nah, there's not too much Quidditch happening yet, especially in the professional league. It'll come back soon though. At least, that's what Oliver said. And Angelina says the Harpies will be hosting try-outs in March."
"Well, good luck to her then," Percy said politely.
George scoffed. "What's with you pretending you actually give a rat's tail about Quidditch?"
Percy pursed his lips. "I just…erm… He hesitated. "Alright, fine. I think we should update the checklist."
"You have more goals in mind then?" George asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, I do."
"Oh, well, brilliant, because I have one for you as well."
Percy nodded as he set the checklist on the counter.
"I can cross that one off," George muttered as he struck a line through Visit Fred's grave.
"And you haven't talked to Dad yet, right? So number one still needs to be completed," Percy reminded him as he dipped his quill into the ink. "Along with this one." Carefully, he wrote:
3. Get a job.
George scowled at it after Percy had finished. He grumbled something under his breath as he yanked the parchment away and scribbled furiously.
5. Come home as often as you can.
6. Eat 3 meals a day, plus snacks, to gain some bloody weight!
7. Stop being a prat.
"George!" Percy accused as George rolled his eyes.
"Fine!"
7. Be more social. That means talk to people other than the family. Hang out with your co-workers more. Go to parties. And stop being a prat.
Percy huffed in annoyance as George smirked.
"That sounds about right," he remarked as Percy glared at him.
"This is a serious list!"
"Yeah, it is!" George agreed, nodding vigorously as he slouched against the counter. "So…" he changed the subject. "You set for work tomorrow?"
Percy grimaced. "I think so. I don't know what the others must think of me…"
"Eh, don't worry about it." George clapped him hard on the back. "You'll be fine."
Percy winced in pain. "Ow!"
George laughed as he gestured to the door. "Well, I'm off to help Lee with Phoenix."
"Oh, you're helping him now?"
"I was helping him before!" George said, offended.
"Right but…"
"Well, Ron's the co-anchor but they still need someone behind the scenes."
"That makes sense."
"Yep. See you later, Perce." He waved as he exited the door. Percy watched him go with a concerned expression on his face. Would George ever be George again?
George was in a foul mood. He knew he should attempt to be upbeat – it was Harry's birthday party, after all – but things just weren't going as he wanted them to. It was frustrating, to say the least.
Ever since he had talked with his mother and visited Fred's grave, George had been making a conscious effort to change. Or at least he thought he had been. He had hung out with his friends more, helped Lee with his business, visited the family at their workplaces… But for some reason, he got the sense that all of them were getting irritated with him. Sure he called them every day, sometimes more than once a day, and sure they had other things to deal with than him, but he was enthusiastic and wanted to change for the better, right? Who were they to deny him?
Truth be told, he might be agitating them, but it wasn't like they were perfect either. In fact, he was finding that they were just as annoying. They never seemed to understand what he was saying, and found the stupidest things funny. George knew comedy, and although his inspiration had been sorely lacking, he hadn't regressed that badly! Only Lee and Angelina appreciated his wit, but it was rare, and both were so busy with their other lives that it just didn't even to matter to them most of the time.
What was worse was that, while he was making all of this effort, no one seemed to view it as progress at all. Percy was the most persistent and easily the most infuriating. He kept telling George that no one could replace Fred, but George knew that. He wasn't an idiot!
"Bloody Percy," George groused as he sulked in Percy's old bedroom. "If everyone's still going to complain, then maybe I should just lie in this bloody bed and never bloody wake up again."
"George, are you going to come down? Everyone's here," Ginny called as she stood in his doorway and frowned at him. "We're going to do cake soon. You should come celebrate with everyone."
"Why bother?" George muttered darkly.
Ginny stomped over to the bed and thwacked him soundly.
"You will come down! It's Harry's birthday and he deserves to have a nice party!"
"Which is why I should stay up here!" George retorted, rubbing his arm.
"Really? More self-pity? It's been two months, George. Get over yourself and show Harry that we appreciate what he went through! Honestly!" she huffed, punching him again.
"Ow!" George cried out, glaring at her, as he paused to consider her words. "Fine," he sighed, sliding his legs over the side of the bed. He shot her a sly look. "I'll come down if you promise to snog Harry senseless in front of the family."
Ginny's reaction comprised a number of emotions. Even as she flushed fiercely, she angrily strode forward and threatened to hit George again, though she didn't go through with it in her embarrassment. She sputtered helplessly as George laughed.
"Calm down. I'm just messing with you."
"You're bloody mental," Ginny hissed, glaring daggers at her older brother.
George smirked as he thumped down the stairs, Ginny fast on his heels.
Out in the backyard, a small pavilion had been erected, under which Harry stood before a tremendous birthday cake shaped like his scar that, every few seconds, actually flashed like the lightning bolt it represented. Harry's face was sheepish as he humbly thanked George's mum for her hard work. George had to grin at her expression.
At breakfast the other day, Harry had let slip the fact that he was amazed he had made it to his 18th birthday considering his life experiences, and before he could say another word, George's mother had let out a cry and determined to throw him the biggest and best birthday party Harry had ever had. It had taken numerous sessions to persuade her to tone it down; Harry was not particularly enjoying his even more prestigious fame, and really wanted to have a small, intimate party to celebrate his birthday. George felt bad for the guy – not only did Harry have his mum to contend with, but he also had to face crowds wherever he went. Normalcy for The Boy Who Lived Who Defeated Voldemort was impossible: he was always recognized, congratulated and unintentionally harassed by even the kindest well-wishers. George was impressed that he hadn't gone mad yet.
In fact, to make Harry's birthday celebration possible, the family had had to take special precautions to create new wards specially designed to keep the public eye away. It was getting more and more difficult to stymie the ecstatic public and occasional hater from sending their letters and other sometimes dangerous and illegal paraphernalia. His father mentioned that the Minister had hired a man whose sole purpose was to sort through Harry Potter's mail. Not to mention the flock of reporters pleading for an interview. Luckily, Harry had only accepted one offer: Lee Jordan's. He was scheduled to report on Phoenix the following week.
Despite all the pressure to keep up appearances, George had to admit that Harry was looking pretty good. It seemed that he had really thrown himself into Auror work, and, unsurprisingly, was excelling at it. Still, he had not quite mastered being famous yet. He was still a bit uncomfortable at being the center of attention, even though only the Weasleys and their close friends were there.
George positioned himself in the back of the group nearest the entrance to the Burrow to ensure a hasty retreat as everyone gathered together and began to sing "Happy Birthday" in terribly off-pitched voices. George cringed as they got to the end, and was about to disappear inside when a woman bustled out of the door carrying a purple-haired bundle in her arms.
"Mrs. Tonks," George greeted in surprise as she sent him a somewhat frazzled smile.
"Oh goodness, we missed the song now didn't we? Ah, George, be a dear and hold him now will you? I completely forgot his nappies!"
"Um…" George started, but didn't get any further as baby Teddy was pushed into his arms. He panicked as he tightly clutched the bundle, not having had much experience with babies – his mother had barely let him near his younger siblings after they were born, knowing what mischief he and his brother got into. He was about to mention this, but when he glanced up, Mrs. Tonks had vanished. Luckily for him, Teddy had just woken up from a nap and was regarding him rather calmly. George stared down at him and couldn't help but smile as the three-month-old yawned.
"Look at you," George grinned. "You're just a big chubby, wrinkly pile of baby!" He raised his pitch and cooed at Teddy, causing the baby to smile a little. "You've got no cares in the world, do you? Nothing for you to worry about! Grandmum's been taking good care of you, hasn't she? And face it, what multi-color-haired baby doesn't get completely spoiled rotten?" He made a strange face and a pleased gurgle escaped the child. George's smile dimmed. "You've got it so easy." He began to rock Teddy back and forth, making sure he had a very tight hold on him. "You don't even know your parents are dead, do you?" he murmured. George's eyes glazed. "They're with Fred now. Heck, Fred's got all the Marauders with him. Can you believe that? Ron told me your daddy's a Marauder. Who would've thought? Professor Lupin one of the greatest pranksters of all time?" He was silent for a moment as Teddy wriggled and began to wave a chubby arm in the air. "You'll never know him, will you? Or Fred…"
"Thanks so much!" Mrs. Tonks said as she reappeared and swept Teddy into her arms. "You're a life-saver, dear! Excuse me, but I have to give Harry his present!"
George watched her hurry away and jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"George. Your mum wanted some help with the drinks. Would you mind?"
George didn't answer him, as he was consumed with a thought that hadn't occurred to him before. It made him feel cold all over, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
"George? Son? Are you ill?"
George felt himself getting steered into the house, and didn't protest as his father gently pushed him into a chair at the kitchen table.
"George?" His father's face swam before him, weary and concerned.
"They'll never…he'll never…" George gazed up at his father. "They won't know Fred, will they? The children now… They'll never…"
"No they won't." His father's voice was soft as he settled beside George. "So it's up to us to remember him."
"But that's not enough."
"George." His father placed a hand on his shoulder again and squeezed. "We're here for you. No matter what happens—"
"I want to see him," George interrupted.
His father blinked. "Who?"
"Fred. Can you take me?"
His father inhaled a large breath and released it slowly. "Wait a moment." He stood up and left the kitchen to return a few minutes later with George's wand in his hand. He handed it to George with an intense look.
"Don't let your mother know I gave it back to you."
George couldn't explain the sudden surge of joy he felt after getting his wand back. It was like an old friend, and he had missed it without realizing it.
"Don't do anything foolish," Arthur added sternly.
Somewhat speechless, George glanced up at his father. "Thank you."
There was silence for a few moments as George hesitated to leave. His father finally spoke up.
"Be careful, George."
George nodded and carefully slipped into the next room. With a clear image in his mind, he Apparated to the cemetery. Luckily he had special permission to access it, since, as part of the reconstruction project, old wards were being reestablished and new ones were being added to protect Hogwarts' future students. George hoped that none of the current generation would be exposed to the terror and grief of his own. He thought of Teddy again and his heart ached.
At Fred's gravestone, George had to swallow tears. For so long he had been thinking about the present and how he didn't know what to do or how to feel without Fred. Somehow, he had failed to consciously acknowledge the future. Fred wasn't here now and…he never would be again. George had been waiting for something to change, to get better, for Fred to come back so it wouldn't hurt so much now. How could he possibly deal with this for the rest of his life?
"I shouldn't have to," George muttered, his brow furrowing. "I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO!" Staring right at Fred's smug face in the portrait, George sent his foot crashing into the stone, ignoring the vibrations of pain that traveled up his leg. "WHY DID YOU DIE? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?" He punctuated each word with another violent kick. He wanted to smash Fred's face in, and he finally lifted Fred's picture and hurled it against the gravestone with all of his might. The frame cracked, the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, and the picture nearly tore in two as it landed amongst the shards. George stared at it for a moment, and then sank to his knees, trembling. He leaned his forehead against the cold stone, heaving brokenly.
"I hate you," he whispered. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." He waited for Fred's rebuke. They had never argued so intensely before. Fred had to say something back. But it was silent, deadly silent. George couldn't breathe. The ache in his chest suffocated him as he thought of all the things Fred would never see and never experience. He would never grow up, never get married or have kids, never take care of the family as they created families of their own. He would never tell another joke, never create another product for the shop, never play Quidditch again. He would never…be George's partner again. He would never laugh or smile or cry or get angry. He was gone. He was never coming back.
George didn't realize how long he had been there, leaning against Fred's grave, until his father found him and he saw that it was nearly dark. His dad helped him to his feet, where he swayed on tingly limbs that had fallen asleep hours before. He felt his father gently pry his wand from his hand, and then they were back at the Burrow and his mother was fretting over him and he couldn't feel anything but empty. Then somehow he was in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and it was dark and he was in his room, but the other bed was gone. When had it been removed? Months ago. Yet he could still detect the ghost of a laugh in the darkness where it used to be.
"I hate you," he said aloud, though he didn't know who he was talking to.
A/N: Thanks for your reviews, everyone, and Happy 2012!
