The Tribute

Both of you fell the same day,
You don't know why, one of you never woke up,
And you laid your body down on the floor,
You're desperate to hear her footsteps again,
But this house is on fire, we need to go.

Oh, you don't have to go it alone,
Go it alone….

Run For Your Life – The Fray

It was the dawning of a new day, and a new era as the light broke over Hogwarts. The Great Hall was filled with a soft buzz of conversation and sniffling. Though many were still streaked with grime and tears, most people in the Hall looked a good deal happier than they had an hour ago. There were smiles now, and people heartily clapping Harry on the back and hugging him. People lined the sides of the Hall, sitting exhausted in groups or trying to help those who couldn't move themselves.

Far from living up to its name, the Great Hall was covered floor to magical ceiling in rubble and dust.

The Death Eaters who hadn't managed to flee in time as Voldemort fell, were bound or stunned and under the careful watch of Kingsley and Hagrid. There would be no escaping Azkaban again for those who had survived and those who hadn't…no one counted it any real loss.

Charlie Weasley stared at Percy like he had sprouted a third arm from his chest. Unable to believe what his eyes were telling his mind for a moment, the second eldest of the Weasley sons struggled for words.

"Merlin's beard…you ca-you're-oh to hell with it…" Charlie, his head bleeding a little at the temple, broke into a wide grin and he threw his arms around his brother, welcoming him back as though nothing had ever happened.

Percy patted Charlie's back a little awkwardly and remained stiff and sombre as his brother let him go and clapped his hand on his shoulder.
"Hey…" He said, his voice hoarse and glasses lopsided. He offered an unconvincing smile, if a little watery, and looked away as Charlie frowned at him.

"Relax, mate…I'm sure everyone's just glad you-"

"I know."

Percy couldn't look him in the eye. He just couldn't look his brother in the eye and tell him to stop being so darn cheerful all the time. He wouldn't be cheerful if he knew, and Percy didn't want to be the reason Charlie's normally down-to-earth and calm demeanour was shattered. He'd caused enough of that tonight.

"What's wrong then? Crack a smile, Perce…we won."

"Charlie…"

Charlie turned around as Fleur's distinct accent interrupted and he got a good look at her and Bill for the first time that night. She had been crying. Her eyes were still red and there were silver trails where tears had streaked the dirt on her face. Even Bill looked sad. His scars stood out more than ever as his jaw shook. He was trying very obviously to be strong.

And then something clicked and Charlie's face dimmed.

"…Who?" His blue eyes scanned around him.

Their mother had her arms around Ginny who was leaning against her shoulder tiredly as they sat against the wall talking quietly with McGonagall and Slughorn.

He knew Ron and Hermione had both gone with Harry but he couldn't see George anywhere , or his dad. They were there a moment ago but now they had both slipped away and he couldn't remember seeing Fred at all.

And then he saw two familiar friends lying side by side. Remus and Tonks were both unmoving, and too pale and still to be alive. Charlie's heart dropped through his boots and he swallowed. How many of his friends had died tonight?

No one was answering he realised and he looked back to his older brother, wondering who he had meant.

Bill met his younger brother's eyes briefly and there was such sadness in them that the blue of his eyes stood out brighter than ever. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. If he said them, he'd have to accept the truth in them and he wasn't ready to do that at all. So instead he looked over Charlie's shoulder and nodded to a spot near the wall.

Charlie turned around slowly and ran a hand through his mop of ginger hair as strands fell before his eyes.

He saw what he feared. Or at least, he saw George and their father first. He had to blink several times to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was. He couldn't remember ever seeing the twins cry since they were young enough to be afraid of monsters under the bed. But there was George, clinging to their father and clearly sobbing into his shoulder.

His eyes the same shade of blue Charlie shared with all five of his brothers, travelled downwards. Then he was pushing his way past people and his jaw was open in a silent cry of horror as he hurried towards the scene. He fell to his knees beside Fred's body and then promptly fell backwards with a hand clapped tightly over his mouth and breaths coming faster than he'd ever felt them.

He shook his head and a muffled "No!" slipped through his lips and the hand that covered them. But the tears wouldn't come. They filled his eyes and threatened to fall but didn't as he stared unblinking at Fred.

"Shh…" Arthur hushed quietly, squeezing George tightly and rubbing his back. His own throat was so constricted that he didn't think he would be capable of saying anything else lest he break down again. George was sobbing into his shoulder and would not be comforted.

George's knees gave out and through the haze of his mind, a dull throbbing started again. It began in the side of his temple and crept all through his head until his a wave of light-headedness washed over him. His knees buckled and suddenly he felt himself being slowly lowered down to sit on the floor and his father's arms loosening around him.

He didn't want anyone to tell him he should be happier. They had won, any more lives that could have been lost had been spared. The war was over. George was sure that if anyone told him any of that he might punch them in the face.
Yes, it was over. Yes, they had won. But they had lost so much too. Fred was gone and even though he knew better, George had never felt more alone. In fact, he'd never really felt alone at all before now. He didn't know how to be alone and the thought terrified him.

Was this how Fred had felt when George had lost his ear? He remembered Fred saying how sure he was that George was dead when he saw him lying covered in blood, how scared his twin had confessed to being. He felt it now. Only Fred wasn't going to wake up with some witty quip and tell him he was being stupid.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there beside Fred's body, just staring wide eyed at him, or at the floor. He wasn't sure how many times he had bitten his knuckles to keep his control, or how many times he ran his hands through his hair before he heard a voice above him.

"Hey…"

George looked up slowly and then back down again as Percy sunk down beside him and patted his shoulder.

"Don't…" George shrugged his hand off and gripped at the sleeves of his jacket tightly, closing in on himself.

"I'm so sorry…" Percy whispered. He blamed himself, even though he should have known better than to do so. "It should have been me…I was right there."

George turned his head slowly and stared at Percy who adjusted his glasses and averted his sight.

"You were there…" George repeated and Percy nodded. "You were right there…"

Percy closed his eyes and braced himself for what he was sure would follow. He was convinced George would agree with what he thought of himself. That it should have been him to die instead of Fred.

But it never came. George didn't say a word and only when the remaining twin looked away again, did Percy continue.

"I uh….here…"

Percy reached inside his coat and withdrew Fred's wand from within. He turned the chipped, second-hand wood around in his fingers once before holding it out to George.

The twin swallowed and took it with trembling fingers. His hands wrapped around the wand and he closed his eyes as he held it tightly against his chest.

"Thank you…" He muttered, barely audibly.

The wand felt unusually heavy in his hand. It was cold, and George gave it an experimental wave to see if it would respond to him. The wood twitched slightly but only a small vapour emitted from the tip. It was sad and empty.

Fred's wand was made of larch wood, and unicorn hair. Larch was, as Ollivander had told them himself nine years ago, a very particular wood. But Fred had been a very unique person, to say the least. Larch wands sought for masters of great courage and unexpected talents. It would never respond to George the way it had to Fred. Brave was the last thing he felt now. He felt small and scared and he really didn't want his twin's wand to work for him. He'd feel wrong if it did.

He closed his hands around it again and clutched it tightly to him.

Though grief was all around the school, there was at the same time, a lightness that placed a comforting blanket on the shoulders of all. A sense of relief and respite, like an enormous burden had been lifted, and it had. There was quiet chatter amid the sniffles and tired smiles as everyone banded together. There was no animosity between any of the houses or the teachers. No more war.

People had died. People had lost siblings, friends and children and infant Teddy safe at home with his grandmother had been orphaned. But though the chapter closed for many, it opened wide for the survivors.

xxxXxxx

The silence was deafening. It screamed all around in the afternoon air for a long few seconds before quiet crying and sniffing carried through the crowd. Arthur hadn't made it all the way through his eulogy before he turned right around and practically fell into his seat. Heads suddenly turned as Lee Jordan had just risen from his seat, walked past the grieving, red haired family in the first rows and up to stand in front of the crowd.

"Well, I'll say something then. I think I speak for all of us…" His dark eyes flicked down to George and there was a sharp pang in his chest at the pathetic sight. His friend was sitting with his head down and was trembling as he cradled his hands to his chest.
"…For all of us…" He tried to continue and gathered his composure. "…when I say the world lost one of the most fun people it knew. We all know Fred was a character. I could say that he was brilliant, and hilarious and damn good at Quidditch…" Lee swallowed and saw Oliver Wood in the crowd run a hand over his lean face.
"But everyone already knows that. He was one of my best mates, and I'm just so sorry I couldn't do anythin' to help him…and neither could anyone." He added, his eyes flicking down to George and across to Percy who he knew both felt responsible.
"It ain't fair, but…at least he died for something. And Fred and George have left their mark forever. You two changed a lot…" He addressed George directly who still hadn't moved at all in his seat, "Even if you don't know how much."

Suddenly a choked sob sounded loud over the crowd and everyone glanced toward the Weasleys. It wasn't George, like most people thought, but Bill, whose head was leaning into Fleur's shoulder as she rubbed his consolingly, silver tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

Lee's voice broke as he tried to continue.

"Here's to mischief, and its maker. Here's to someone who always stood up for what he thought, to someone who gave his life for what he believed, to a true, fellow Gryffindor all his life. Here's to Fred Weasley." He drew his wand slowly and with trembling hands, held it aloft above his head. The point began to glow and one by one, wands began to raise all around.

As Lee returned to his seat, Percy, who sat beside George gently placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder.
"George? Do you….do you want me to-"

"No." George mouthed silently and he slowly moved his hands from his chest and opened his fists. Fred's wand, which he had carried with him, lay chipped and scratched and worse for wear in George's hands.
For a long, selfish minute, George didn't want to do this. He wanted to tuck his twin's wand away and keep it safely with him forever. And then the selfishness turned to sheer fear. He couldn't do this. He couldn't get up in front of everyone when he wasn't even sure he could stand anymore without falling.

"George…" Percy whispered again, but the twin just didn't care if everyone around was waiting awkwardly for him to do what he had to do. They could wait. He needed a lot longer than this.

After what felt like an age, but every minute without his twin by his side felt like an age to George, he finally stood on shaking legs.

Cradling Fred's wand to his chest like it was a treasured, rare artefact to be protected at all costs, George took a few steps forward toward the very simple coffin. Every step, he felt like he was walking to his own grave, like he was going to his own death.

Fred was gone. His best friend, his identical twin that he had never spent a day without, was dead. Half of George had died with him in the Great Hall that night.

George reached the coffin. He looked up at the marquee above him as though asking for courage, before he dragged his sad, empty blue eyes down to the closed ones of his brother. Shaking like an autumn leaf, George slowly held out Fred's wand, larch with unicorn hair, eleven and a quarter inches, and, feeling like he might faint, he very gently lifted one of Fred's lifeless hands and placed his wand on his chest. Folding his hand over the wand, to keep it where it would remain forever now, George rubbed his thumb over his twin's cold, gaunt skin. There was no warmth, no life at all there now.

"Fred…" George whispered, his lips barely moving at all as he pushed back Fred's hair the way that Fred had pushed George's back the night George lost his ear.

His shoulders heaved and wracked with sobs and he didn't care that everyone was watching him break. Suddenly two pairs of arms encircled him and Charlie and Ron guided him away back to a chair.

xxxXxxx

A week later, George was still sleeping on the sofa in the living room at the Burrow. At least for what little sleep he could get. He couldn't bring himself to even open the door to their old room and sleep in his old bed, it was too hard. He wouldn't even think about moving back to the shop, it terrified him so soon afterwards.

Every morning, Ginny would be the first after her parents to rise. Every morning she'd push aside the curtains and peer out of her window facing the hillside her brother was buried on. She would put on a brave face, and pretend she was alright. But everyone did that. Looking over at Hermione who she was sharing her room with, to make sure she hadn't woken the older witch, Ginny shrugged on a dressing gown and stepped out onto the landing. She looked up, listening for any sign of movement from the floors above her and then walked barefoot down the stairs toward the kitchen to help her mother who would never stop cooking or cleaning, with breakfast. As she passed, she glanced through the doorway into the living room where she had a clear line of sight to the sofa where the other twin lay. One arm hung limply off the sofa as usual and his eyes were closed. Ginny could always tell when he had only fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion as his eyes were still ringed with dark circles and the silver tear tracks still looked wet.

"Mum…slow down." Ginny said, sighing as she entered the kitchen to find her mother hurriedly preparing everything from sausages to porridge to toast and jam to have a breakfast fit for a king on the table before everyone woke up.
Molly didn't seem to hear her daughter until Ginny touched her shoulder. She jumped and pressed a hand to her heart as she turned around.
"Oh, dear…you gave me a fri-" She fumbled for words and her only daughter suddenly hugged her and let out a long, trembling sigh, stroking Ginny's hair.

"Slow down, Mum." Ginny repeated, pulling away to lift a great plate of sausages and bacon. "You do have help here."

It was today.

Before the rebuilding of the castle would commence, a great memorial to the Battle of Hogwarts would be held to honour all those who had given their lives. To ensure that future students would never forget what had happened there.

Hermione was usually the next to rise, and Charlie usually followed a few minutes later. Harry and Ron would come downstairs last of all, and Harry never looked well rested. He always had grey circles under his eyes too, and Ginny knew he stayed awake late trying not to succumb to a guilt so great it pressed on him as painfully as his scar had once done.

George sometimes didn't come to the table at all, but when he did, it was like walking on eggshells. He hadn't smiled since that day, and rarely even spoke a word to anyone. They all treated him differently, no one could help it. Percy was the worst of all though, three times now he'd only looked at George and had to leave the room. They all knew he was seeing Fred and not George looking impassively back at him. It was impossible not to do that. They were identical twins, sometimes Ginny found herself having to stare at the left side of George's head where his ear was missing to remember that it wasn't Fred after all.

George hated it. Anyone could tell. His jaw would tense and he would glare at whoever was looking strangely at him. He supposed he understood why they treated him like he was about to break…because he really was that fragile now. He understood why they looked at him and saw Fred because he did it too. Until now he had usually thought it was marvellous and hilarious to have a twin, to look exactly the same at his brother, to confuse people. Now he'd never hated looking the same more.

xxxXxxx

Hogwarts itself was still much the same as it had been immediately after the battle. It was in ruins, great heaps of stone filled the courtyards and the interior had crumbled in on itself.

At the south of the castle, towards the lake, a large, smooth white stone stood like a small wall. The crowd that gathered around it now was great. Those who had fought in the Battle and their families, the families and friends of those who had died, and any students who had been evacuated, along with their families were assembled. Hagrid, towering over everyone, stood at the back alongside the herd of centaurs who had emerged from the forest to pay their respects. Minerva McGonagall, now Headmistress of the school, stood tall before the crowd, clothed in robes of raven black. Her face mirrored that of the witches and wizards who stood together facing her.

"You all know why we're here. Everyone here was a victim of Voldemort or his followers in some way, however small or great that may have been." Her voice, magically magnified, carried over the assembly. "Here at, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is where his reign finally ended once and for all. Voldemort's darkness is no more, those who followed him, I'm sure now which they hadn't. There will be no more danger from him, no more innocent people will lose their lives at his hand."

Her eyes, warmer than anyone remembered ever seeing them, scanned each face in the sea of black clothing until they rested on Harry. Her lip curled up into the smallest of smiles before she fixed her eyes again on a far point, behind the furthest centaur and continued.

"Here is where it all ended and none of us here today will ever forget that. Many of you fought the war yourselves, many of you lost someone dear to it…don't ever let yourself forget it. Nor should this be forgotten by those who are not yet part of this history, by those who perhaps are not yet born, or simply were not here to witness it themselves."

Towards the front of the assembly, a large group of red-heads all stood together. Hermione, Fleur and Harry with them. Arthur's arm wrapped securely around his wife who was sniffling every so often. Almost every head was bowed and stared at the ground. Almost every eye was tearful and sad and yet still determined to see this through.

"We remember today the sacrifice of all those who gave their lives on that day. Each one of those brave people died fighting for good, and they did not give their lives in vain."

Most people expected her to withdraw a roll of parchment from her robes but she did not. McGonagall stepped to the side, leaving the white stone unobscured and began to recite the names. She remembered each one of those students and the others who had died by name, she needed no parchment to remind her.

"Lavender Brown."

As she spoke, listing each name in alphabetical order, it inscribed itself upon the wall in neat, perfect writing.

"Colin Creevey."

There was a sudden cry from the middle of the crowd as the boy's muggle parents, thoroughly unnerved and unsettled enough being surrounded by such a crowd of magical folk, dissolved into tears, clutching Colin's younger brother, Dennis, tightly to them.

"Poor muggles…" Arthur whispered quietly, looking pityingly over at the man and woman who stood not far behind them.

One by one, names were called and inscribed upon the wall. When McGonagall reached the L's, there was a collective intake of breath all through the crowd.

"Remus and Nymphadora Lupin."

Andromeda Tonks clenched her eyes closed. She had already lost her husband and now her daughter and her son-in-law. Clutched tightly in his grandmother's arms, a baby boy with hair in the process of changing from sandy brown to blue, started to cry.

Harry swallowed a lump as he looked through the crowd to his godson. He would never remember his parents really, much like Harry himself. Teddy would be loved, and doted on by his family and those who would be as good as blood family to him, but Harry knew what it was like to grow up without parents and promised again to the memory of Remus that he would be there to help all the way.

One by one, the names of the dead filled the stone, there were over fifty of them and last of all McGonagall came to the W's. There was only one.

"Fred Weasley." The Headmistress finished, her voice had begun to tremble halfway through the list, and hadn't stopped since. As she finished, she let out small hiccup that did not go unnoticed.

The silence set over the solemn assembly and chilled all like ice water. There was barely a dry eye among all and then suddenly the silence was shattered by a great trumpeting from Hagrid as he blew his nose into a huge handkerchief.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward. He had been named Acting Minister for Magic and, like everyone else, was clothed in black. His robes brushed the grass as he stepped toward the memorial and raised both hands. His wand in his right hand he closed his eyes and slowly drew his wand in an arc over his head. The writing on the wall shimmered and began to glow a soft gold. Someone gasped and more than a few people sniffed as the air above the wall began to shift. One at a time, the faces of all who had died appeared in the air, looking just as they had done in life.

Colin Creevey beamed out at them, his eyes as wide and excited as they always had been.

Remus, looked out with the barest hint of a smile, his warm eyes boring into each person who held their stare. Tonks, who hair was her favourite shade of bubblegum pink, grinned toothily and winked. Andromeda dissolved into sobs.

One by one they appeared, some smiled, some raised their chin and looked out proudly. All of them looked just as they had when they lived. It wasn't at all like having them back, but it lifted the hearts of even the most bereaved for a few moments.

When Fred appeared last of all, his freckles stood out more than ever in the sunlight. He was grinning, his eyes alive and laughing as his family tried their best not to fall to pieces again.

Lee, who was standing just behind George, placed a hand on the twin's shoulder as silent tears slipped from his eyes.

Fleur sniffled and squeezed Bill's hand who looked up at the visage of his brother with chin held high, trying to keep together.

Percy was looking at the ground, unable to hold the blue eyes of Fred even in what was just a conjured image.

Hermione was slowly rubbing circles on Ron's back, fighting back her own tears while Ginny on her other side smiled weakly up at her brother.

George couldn't look away, he thought that maybe if he kept looking then the image wouldn't fade like the others. But still, even as he watched, and fought back choked sobs, the happy, carefree version of Fred changed in his mind to a cold, still one covered in blood.

And then Fred too, like the others before him, faded into the air and George couldn't hold back a stifled choking sound in his throat.

Kingsley was talking now, his voice carrying easily to the ears of all.

"As Acting Minister for Magic, I bestow upon all who gave their lives in this Battle, and all those who fought in it and are still standing today, the Order of Merlin, First Class….for feats of extraordinary bravery."

He stared out at each person and then looked to the side at McGonagall who was dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

"Tell your children. Do not let them forget those who died here…I ask you all to join me now…" Slowly he raised his wand to the sky. "We will remember!"

It started out quietly, but surely every person repeated the words and together, every wand in the audience was slowly raised.

"We will remember!"