I almost can't believe I only got reviews about what it was, and none of you seemed to notice that Fred was dreaming about a charred Room of Hidden Things, while he died before it became that way. I thought it was quite obvious what it was, but well, you'll discover in this chapter then :)

Please read and review! :)

P.S. I've written this chapter listening to the Harry Potter soundtrack of 'The Prince's Tale'. Lily and Snape's story (and music) is quite fitting for this story actually, and I'll try to integrate it more into this one. Trying to undo some more tragedies while cheating death, time the Prophecy and destiny, so to speak... Point is, I'm changing the 'Dumbledore' character tag into 'Snape'. Just so you know.

The next afternoon, after Fred had finished his classes, he stood in the corridor, just outside of where he knew was the Room of Requirements. Just a few meters away from where he almost had died, where he had lost any connection with the world he came from. Though he didn't ponder on it, instead, he looked at Barnabas being thwacked around the head by trolls in tutu, wondering if he would even manage to create the Room successfully. He was ascertained he could, it wouldn't be too difficult, but he had never purposively tried it, had he? After all, he and George had only really discovered it during the DA classes, and then it was Harry or Neville who'd opened it.

He glanced over his shoulder, to the plain wall behind him. He was ascertained he could, but it wouldn't hurt to try first, before Snape and Lily came here.

He turned his back to the miserable Barnabas, and strode up and down the corridor three times, thinking about a room fit for learning Occlumency. When the door appeared, he doubted whether if he opened it he would find what he was looking for, as he had found it surprisingly hard to focus. He'd had a lot on his mind the past month, after all, and felt all kinds of thoughts nagging just beneath the surface of his subconscious. But well, he could always try again if the result turned out to be a disappointment.

Curious for the result, he swung the door open, made to step inside, but froze.

For behind the heavy wooden door, lay not a classroom, or a chamber, but an immensely great hall, the grand ceiling supported by a great number of immovable pillars, rising from imposing heaps of molten gold, silver and black ashes, sooth covering the stone floor, as if he'd just entered a place of disaster, once a rich treasure, but haunted by the memories of death and destruction.

It was the room of his dream.

He set down his foot, and quietly closed the door. As he moved through the entrance, he felt he grew taller, his nose became longer, his cheeks became slightly rougher by the invisible stubble that he used to shave. He looked at his hands, his new hands, his old hands, and his sleeves, as he was wearing the same clothes as that day. The day he travelled back in time.

What was this? Did it only look like this, because he'd unconsciously remembered it from his dream? Had he made this room, to resemble the picture his mind had formed? Was that why he'd into his old, his actual age? Because he'd imagined himself this way?

In theory, it could be possible, weren't it the Room had never before gone such ends to meet the wishes of his creator. His hand reached up to feel his left ear. Still there. He was still Fred, at least…

He briefly considered going back, but instead decided to walk further among the ashes, in reality not too concerned about his change in physical appearance. It was nothing significant, a simple Aging-solution could do the same trick, so why not the Room? The longer he thought about it, the less alarming it became. He felt strangely invincible in this strange room.

In fact, he felt like he was dreaming again. He walked as if in trance, moved by some higher power, mightier than himself. Foot for foot, deeper into the Room of Hidden Things. At once, he felt the urge to search for something, like George had in his dream. The more rational part of his brain noticed the déja-vu, but the expected warning stayed away. He found it all rather fascinating, funny. He wanted to search for something small, something crucial. Perhaps, he thought, it was George he was looking for.

Unlike in his dream, almost immediately that what he was looking for caught his eye with a glimmer, laying open for anyone to see, in the middle on a path between the ashes. Of course it would, as it was the Room of Requirements he was in. When you wished for something it would appear. That it hadn't in his dream, was because that was all it was: a dream.

He moved towards it. It. It was indeed small, nothing more but a mere pebble. Its surface was cold, black and smooth as Fred picked it up and stroke it with his thumb. At closer inspection, it didn't seem that extraordinary, until he saw the sign etched on the other side. A triangle, a circle and a line through the middle, it was clearly meant to mean something, but it meant nothing to Fred.

He studied the object a while longer, wondering why it could've been important to his brother. He listened to it, sniffed at it, weighed it in his hand, laid it on his tongue, flipped it a few times, and then, a sudden movement caught his eye. His head shot up, half expecting to wake up in his dormitory, but what he saw, was more astounding than anything he could've thought up. In fact, it was exactly what he'd been thinking of the last few weeks. There, just a few feet away, staring straight back, stood George Weasley, looking just as shocked as Fred imagined himself to be.

For an undefined length of time, they just held each other's eye. George didn't look too well, a bit like Lupin used to after a moon-lit night, pale and dishevelled, but that didn't matter a thing to Fred. His eyes teared up, and he reached out for his brother, wanting to touch his skin, feel his heart beating.

George stepped back.

"You are not real." He whispered to him, harshly, his voice hoarse, wary, as if he were afraid that any moment Fred would go up in smoke, and disappear. Fred didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, so he did a bit of both. "But I am, George. I'm real. I'm really here. In the Room of Requirements."

George still looked unsure to believe his words, unsure to hope they may be true. "Try." Fred said, "Try touch me. Please."

George tentatively rose his arm, while Fred did the same. Their finger moved to each other, identical, their movements simultaneous, as if both hands belonged to the same person. Fred wanted to hold George's hand, tell him everything was alright, but then, as skin should stroke skin, they felt nothing. Fred's hand passed right through George's as if through thin air.

The tears now escaped Fred's eyes. It wasn't real, how could it be, what had he been thinking!? The Room made that appear what you needed, but it could not summon people. Yes, it could create training dummies, but it couldn't cross time, it couldn't revive the dead. No magic could do those things. The only thing it could, was to create an illusion of the real George. As was this whole room, an illusion stemming from his own wishes, his own imagination. His twin was none but an appearance.

Their eyes locked, and Fred saw George was crying too, doubtlessly think the same. He attempted to comfort him, but in his brother's eyes he found nothing but hurt and betrayal. Betrayal that he wasn't really there. George winked his tears away angrily, and moved to storm away.

"George, wait! Please, don't go!" Fred found himself pleading to his twin, even as he was nothing but an illusion. He just wanted to take this moment for what it was.

George stopped, his back turned to Fred. "We can't touch, but I'm really here, I swear! I want to see you, George. Don't waste this moment, even if it is all nothing but a hallucination. We can still talk. Like we used to."

George glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening in face of his brother's sincerity. Fred couldn't keep secrets from George. And if anyone could say if it was really Fred, it was him.

"Fred, who are you talking to?" a voice from behind said, startling him, pulling him back out of their bubble. His fist clenched around the cold, round stone as George disappeared, empty space taking his place as if he'd never been there. He hadn't, not in reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking unshed tears away. Behind him stood Snape and Lily, probably come through the door, which apparently hadn't properly disappeared when he'd gone through. They both were much older, Snape looked almost as he used to in his time, including black, bellowing robes, and Lily had become a matured woman, older than she would ever be destined to grow. She looked like Harry's mum.

Before he had time to wonder what exactly was happening, their surroundings distorted, morphed so suddenly he almost fell over. Ashes were replaced by trees, the ceiling by a night black sky, and as he whirled back, he found George had been replaced by Harry. Looking at them with calm, but warm eyes, as if them being there was the most normal thing in the world.

"Of course," he said, a slight sad smile playing around his mouth "it would be you three."

Fred didn't understand. That George would be reproduced, could've been expected, he longed to nothing more than to see his twin again, but why would the Room change into the Forbidden Forest, why would it come up with its version of Harry? Of course, he cared for the boy, but hadn't by any measure preoccupied his mind as had George. He certainly hadn't called up him, when creating the room, had he?

"Who are you!?" he heard Snape snap. Glancing back, Fred saw the ex-Professor-to-be had drawn his wand, seeming not quite as cold and collected as he usually was. With a start, Fred realized that even though Snape and Lily looked like they had – or would have – in his time, they actually still were the little third years who'd unsuspectingly followed the troubled time-travel who had called himself Fred. If either of them knew about Harry, the future would be doomed to change. Lily wasn't supposed to know she'd have a child with Potter.

Harry seemed puzzled at Snape's reaction. "You know who I am, I'm Harry Potter! What has happened, don't you remember me?"

They both gaped at this weird, unfamiliar boy, who seemed to know them even though they had never seen him before. Lily's eyes darted cautiously to Fred.

"Have we somehow landed… in your memories?" she asked slowly.

Harry frowned, "What?"

"No!" Fred cried out. He was inwardly panicking; they could not know, they could not know, they could not know…

"What's the matter with all of you?" Harry queried, "You're all dead, you're only temporally back on earth because I'm holding the Resurrection Stone. Last time, you knew what was going on."

"Harry." Fred turned to face Harry again, "I don't know what you're on about, I don't even know if it's really you, but we're not dead, we're not here, we're in the past, your past, we're in the Room of Requirements. I don't know either what all of this means, but they," he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, "are their fourteen-year-old selves at the moment, and should not know of your existence."

Harry shook his head unbelievingly. "You can't be. I've just summoned you because George has been looking for the Stone, and I need your advice, Fred, 'cause the Stone can't fall into his hands –"

"Wait." Fred interrupted him distractedly, "George has been looking for the Stone? In the Room of Requirements?"

"I couldn't tell him it was here, Fred. He would try to revive you –"

"So you lied to him!? You let him rake that damned room for some stupid, unfindable stone, that isn't even there!?" he swallowed a sob, giving Harry his most hateful glare, "You would withhold me from him." he accused, "I'm his brother."

Harry felt he was losing ground. "Fred," he pleaded, before he eye fell onto the small, black pebble in Fred's hand, identical to that in his own. "What is that?" he asked warily.

Fred looked at the object too, and paled. Was that… the Resurrection Stone!?

"Where did you find it!?" Harry exclaimed, panicking.

"In the Room of Requirement." he answered quietly. "I saw the place in a dream, George was looking for it, I thought about it and… it appeared." He looked at Harry. "I think I… resurrected George. I saw him, he saw me."

"But George isn't dead, you are, and…" Harry was still transfixed by the Stone in Fred's hand, "How can you possess the Resurrection Stone if you're dead!?"

Fred threw it away as hard and far as he could, turned, grabbed Snape and Lily at the elbows and ran, ran from that mad place, that mad situation, but just not hard enough to miss Harry whispering, "George."

He somehow found the door, burst through it with his two companions and closed it with a bang.

He closed his eyes, for a moment not daring to look at anything, anyone, just breathing in, breathing out. When he opened them again with a sigh, he found both Lily and Snape watching him with fear and intrigue. Both looking fourteen, thank Merlin.

"What was that?" Lily breathed.

"I don't know." he mumbled his response, "I swear, I have no idea. That room is the Room of Requirement, it's supposed to just provide the kind of space the user is in need of. Like, it's a loo when you badly need to pee, provides a bed when you're looking for a place to sleep, that kind of thing. It isn't supposed to…"

Lily and Snape were staring at him distrustfully. "Really, I've no idea what that was," he exclaimed in defence, "That was the maddest thing I've ever experienced in my life, and I can say that, I'm a time-traveller."

Lily conceded. "We believe you. But…" she eyed him curiously, "who is George?"

"You didn't see him?" Fred was surprised, "I talked to him before you two entered the scene."

"We saw no one." Snape stated.

"Oh." was Fred's intelligent response. So they still didn't know George was his twin. They didn't need to know that, though, especially Snape, he didn't need to know that. "George is my brother."

Severus rose an eyebrow sardonically. "Wouldn't expect he's your sister."

"No." Fred agreed bitingly. He stood up, and straightened his robes, his school robes. "Well, shall we try again?" he asked with a fake air of cheerfulness. He forced a cheeky smile, before pacing again, three times, Snape and Lily watching intently.

He tensed a second before opening the door, but when he peeked inside there was only the dim classroom he'd depicted. He didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment.

That day, they worked there in secret, learning Occlumency and Legimency, as they would many afternoons after, coming back to do the same. Never again they talked about George, or Harry, as all of them understood they shouldn't dwell on it, they should tempt fate.

Never again appeared the room of Fred's dream.