Author's Note: Here is Scene Three. This one is of George mourning Fred so it's a little dark and sad. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate any feedback I get.

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play.

Scene Three: Memory Lane is a Dangerous Place

It had happened ten years ago to the day.

In many good ways George Weasley was a completely different person than he had been back then. Ten years ago he was a poor, arrogant, reckless, shallow, nineteen year old boy who laughed and loved too readily. Now he was a rich, humble, thoughtful, grounded, twenty-nine year old man who laughed and loved with caution. Of course the opposite was also true. Ten years ago George Weasley had been a confident, loud, vibrant young man who had a passion for life and for fun that was infectious and drew people to him. Now he was a boring, quiet, wounded, twenty-nine year old man who seemed apathetic to the world and who people generally avoided.

It happens to most people, they grow up and mature and become different adults from the adolescents they had been. Aging is an ongoing process that refines and molds and shapes people. It happens gradually over time as it is supposed to, it is inevitable. But it wasn't like that for George. He could point to the exact moment his life had changed. It had happened ten years ago to the day.

As he lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the early morning hours before the sun was to come up, he thought about that day. He'd spent hundreds of sleepless nights replaying that day over during the past ten years. Tonight was no different. He had tossed and turned in an attempt to fall asleep earlier but to no avail. So, giving up, he lay still in the quiet darkness around him and stared up at the white ceiling. His eyes stung with tiredness but there was nothing he could do about it. His mind wandered to that day again.

Voldemort had still been in power then. George and his twin brother Fred, along with the rest of their family, had gone to Hogwarts as soon they had been told about the battle. Truth be told he and his brother had been itching to get more involved in some way. Cabin fever had set in on them and he had learned the hard way what a dangerous and powerful thing it was. It was pandemonium and chaos as soon as they reached the castle. Fred had volunteered himself and George to guard the secret passageways into the castle. But they had been separated from one another when their father had been set upon by three honking death eaters set to kill him and a shout of pain from their older brother Percy drew Fred to him. George lost track of what happened for a while after that. He had fought beside his father for his life that night and he knew part of him had wondered where Fred was. And then – he remembered this very distinctly – he had been chasing a death eater down one of the corridors when there was a terrible explosion somewhere on one of the floors above him. At that moment if felt like the wind was knocked right out of him and his heart clenched painfully in his chest like it never had before. He knew he fell to the ground then and his father had screamed his name and come running up to him. But he hardly registered all of that because he was feeling so strange. For one moment he felt an awful, agonizing, wrenching sensation in his chest as though something had been torn from him and then he felt as though he was floating above his body – it was a pleasant sensation one of weightlessness and peace – and as soon as the moment passed he felt slammed back into himself. His body felt heavy and his heart beat painfully in his chest. At first he couldn't identify a new feeling he was experiencing. He thought he must've survived some dark curse he'd never know of before. Then the feeling registered to his brain – it was one other people had described to him and he had never understood – it was loneliness. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and for the first time there was a void in him where something he couldn't identify had once been. He didn't know what it was but he felt like a piece of his soul had been taken from him.

"George," his father had rolled him onto his back, "George, can you hear me son?"

George had nodded and his father's pinched face relaxed a little, "Who cursed me?" George had asked as he sat up and looked around. He and his father were alone in the corridor but the shrills and shrieks of battle were still going on. He was finding it hard to breathe as an ache settled somewhere in his chest.

His father looked about as well and then frowned at his son, "I don't know," he said urgently, "I didn't see anyone. Are you ok? How do you feel?"

George patted himself down in an exploratory sort of way, "No new wounds," he said, "but I feel strange."

"Strange?" There was alarm in his father's voice, "Strange how?" He demanded as he helped him up.

"I don't know," George shook his head but he couldn't get rid of the ache in his chest, "Like I'm missing something but I don't know what it is."

His father gave him an alarmed look but just as he was going to speak George saw a jet of orange light and pushed his father out of the way while narrowly avoiding the curse himself. The dueling picked back up as two death eaters emerged at the end of the corridor and began throwing more curses at them. He lost track of things again as he chased death eaters and helped his allies in battle. It wasn't until a cruel, cold, high-pitched voice spoke so near George he thought it came from right beside him that he regained his bearings.

He remembered Voldemort's horrible voice as though he was hearing it now instead of having heard it ten years ago. That voice haunted his dreams. Voldemort had magnified his voice to make it heard over the grounds. He had called back his forces and was giving them an hour to give up Harry or he would join in the fight himself and kill everyone. George remembered wondering why he hadn't been fighting all along, until he mentioned their casualties. George had known of course that there was the very real chance of casualties when they had come here but hearing that word in Voldemort's voice had struck fear in him. It was the first time he realized that he hadn't seen any of his family, besides his father, in quite some time.

The castle went eerily silent then as the fighting stopped and the enemy retreated. George let his father steer him toward the Great Hall where everyone was heading as he wondered about the ache in his chest. There was no sign of anyone from their family in the Great Hall when they arrived. He remembered going around the room with his father in an almost panic asking if anyone had seen anyone. Then Charlie burst in and called his name. George had embraced his older brother with a fierce hug and tears in his eyes. His father had the same reaction. Then all three of them asked the same question at the same time, "Have you seen anyone else?"

"I'll go look for them," Charlie had replied, "You stay here in case they show up." George had followed his instructions with some reluctance. With every passing minute that he didn't see Fred a sense of panic rose in his chest. A minute after Charlie left, which felt like an eternity to George, his mother came in followed closely by his youngest sister Ginny. He had launched himself at his sister as his father did the same to his mother. Then they switched and George breathed a sigh of relief in his mother's arms, as she wept. He remembered thinking they might have just made it through with the whole family in tact. He asked them about the others but they didn't seem to know. He told them Charlie was looking. Then the door banged open and George turned and felt his world tilt. Walking toward them was his oldest brother Bill, thankfully alive. On one side of Bill was his new wife Fleur and on the other side was his other brother Percy, but none of this registered to George. What registered with a horrifying, petrifying, truth was in Bill's arms, he was carrying Fred.

George couldn't move as the group approached. When they got close he could hear sobbing from the three people walking but he couldn't take his eyes off of his twin's face. It was lifeless. His entire body lay in Bill's arms like a rag doll. It was obvious that there was no life in him but George refused to believe it.

Bill stopped in front of the family and shook as he held Fred. "Why did you stop?" His mother's choked voice startled George, "Get him to Madam Pomfrey."

"Mum," Percy seemed to force out, "she can't help him."

"Of course she can!" His mother shouted, "Let me see him! Where is he hurt? She can cure him! We just have to get him to her!"

"Bill," said his father in a calm but emotional voice, "put him down."

"I'm sorry," Bill whispered thickly, "I should have protected him." His shoulders shook as tears spilled down his cheeks, "I'm sorry."

"Bring him to Madam Pomfrey!" His mother shouted, "You're wasting time!"

"Mum," Percy walked forward and engulfed his mother in a hug, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She seemed to struggle against him for a moment and then she began to sob, "No!" she kept repeating, "Not my son! Not Fred!"

"Bill," his father put a hand on his shoulder, "bring him over here."

In the middle of the room there was a line of dead bodies. The people who were not seriously injured were bringing them in from various places around the castle and on the lawns. There seemed to be at least thirty of forty of them lying side by side now. Most had people around them crying and consoling one another.

George found his voice as his father and brother walked toward the line, "He can't go there," he said roughly. Everyone turned to look at him, "Mum's right. Take him to Madam Pomfrey."

"George," Fleur put her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"He's not dead," he said firmly, as he pulled his arms defensively across his chest, "He's playing a joke on us or something."

Bill laid Fred down on the floor beside another lifeless body that George didn't recognize and the last of his resolve and resistance broke. They looked so alike both lying there so still. If Fred had been playing a joke on them he would have let him know about it. Fred was never cruel. He would never do something that caused anyone this much pain. That ache in George's chest was suddenly explained. He knew what it was now. Fred had died and therefore a part of George had died too. Tears filled George's eyes and he blindly ran toward Fred's lifeless body. His father's arms caught him before he got there and held him in a surprisingly firm hug.

"No," was all George could say. It was true he couldn't deny it but he couldn't believe it either. "No Fred no."

With a wail his mother had let go of Percy and flung herself on top of Fred's lifeless body as she sobbed. George's father let go him too and turned to consol his wife. George's knees were weak and without support he felt himself fall to the ground without any real ability to stop himself. He somehow ended up kneeling beside Fred's head.

The rest of the night was foggy to him. He vaguely remembered Ron and Hermione coming in. He remembered Charlie coming back and pulling him into an embrace. He remembered another duel took place. He had white hot rage then. He had wanted to kill every single one of those death eaters for taking away his brother. He had dueled more fiercely than he ever had before. He remembered his mother killing Bellatrix Lestrange and he remembered Harry defeating Voldemort.

George wiped a tear from his eye as he lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling. It had happened ten years ago to the day. That was the first day George had known what it was to feel lonely. It was the first day George had lost someone who meant the absolute world to him. It was the first day George felt like an outsider in his own family. That was the first day George Weasley had stopped living and started dying.

It had happened ten years ago to the day.

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