Chapter Eight

Ahh! It's been so long! I'd like to apologize to all of you for taking many months to get this up, it's been hectic! Also to thank you from the bottom of my heart if you have haven't given up on my story yet because I haven't updated in ages :)

I had a massive case of writers block over the past few months--there were actually one or two chapters I wanted to include before this one, but the words and ideas weren't coming, so I moved on. Which means that if i have a sudden inspiration it is very possible I will go back and add some more, so be on the look out!

This chapter was extremely hard to write, as I wanted to cram as many things in as I invisioned as possible. Obviously this isn't going to be how everyone pictured this day, but I hope you appreciate and enjoy my point of view :) This is actually something I imagined from the second I finished the book, and while I've changed and added some things, this was basically my original vision.

Thank you SO much to EVERYONE who has ever reviewed, added this to favorite/alert, or even just read this. It means the world to me that anyone even reads it, and to see that you all review it so positively just makes my day! So please, keep reviewing and I promise to update faster. I'm not the type of person to say I won't update until I have 50 reviews! But really, more reviews does make me more motivated to update!!

Long intro--I know. If you have actually taken the time to read this whole thing than once again, thank you. Enjoy the chapter and review review review!!


When George woke up that morning, the sun was already creeping through the window. Thin rays leaked into the bedroom, prying his reluctant eyes open. He reached an arm out, searching for Angelina's warm frame. She snuggled close to him automatically when his arm found her.

"Hey," she whispered, their faces inches a part.

"Hey," he whispered back. Angelina studied him for a moment, and George knew she was trying to figure out how he was feeling. For the brief moment he had had before waking and sleeping, he had forgotten the day. Now, he remembered it clearly, as it had been pressing on his heart for the past year.

May 2, 1999. The one-year anniversary of The Battle of Hogwarts. Of Voldemort's defeat. Of Remus and Tonk's death. Of Fred's death. George closed his eyes again, as if that could block out the pain. Angelina's cool hand stroked his temple, and he found a brief respite from the pain in her comforting caress. He reached up and intertwined his strong fingers in hers, giving her a little squeeze.

"How are you?" she asked, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows.

He gave a hollow laugh and reached a finger up to smooth the crease. "I've been better."

"Yeah, me too," Angelina replied.

For a day in early May, the sky was a dull gray and the weather a bit cold. The only light that streamed through the partially opened curtains was that of the street lamp. This didn't help George find the will to leave the comfort of his bed and Angelina to face whatever may come on that day. With a sigh, he heaved himself from the bed, pulling Angelina with him.

As they got ready, the feeling of dread in the pit of George's stomach intensified, so that by the time they were about to head to the Burrow—by Floo Powder, of course—George felt as though he might vomit. As if sensing this, Angelina gripped George's hand tightly, her small fingers helping him find his own strength. "It'll be find, George," she soothed, though he knew she was saying this as much to herself as she was to him.

This day signified so many different events that George didn't quite know how to organize his feelings. He wasn't sure how other people were going to react, either. If people were celebrating, would George be able to keep himself from resenting them? George knew that there was no way everyone could be aware of the fact that this day commemorated the death of his twin, but he also knew that sometimes judgment was unfair, and that most likely he would judge someone if they weren't mourning like he was.

Upon arriving at the Burrow, George and Angelina found it already filled with people, all dressed in black dress robes as they were. "George, Angelina," smiled a teary Mrs. Weasley, who was the first to notice them. She kissed each of them on the cheek and ushered them into the kitchen, where everyone else was conversing around the battered tables. Departing from tradition, Mrs. Weasley had prepared no food, as it would be served at Hogwarts, where the memorial would be held later that day. Harry had been asked to give a speech, something that George knew he had been fretting over for quite some time. Now, he sat with Ron, chatting with Mundungus Fletcher about who knows what, while Ginny and Hermione looked on from their position by the window. George walked over to them while Angelina stayed with Fleur to discuss the baby.

"Hey Ginny, Hermione," he said.

"George," Ginny replied, wrapping her arms around him briefly. Hermione embraced him, too, and George could see her eyes were slightly red, as if she were trying to hold back tears. Ginny stared at him resolutely, determined not to show any trace of the emotion that must be plaguing her.

"I'm so glad you and Ange are here," she said. "Mum's been going crazy. She wants to leave early so that we can be sure to 'get good seats.' As if they won't have them saved for us, because of Harry you know." George laughed slightly at his mother's excessive worry and the perks of being friends with the Boy Who Lived.

As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley raised her voice out loud, somehow managing to gather the attention of the phalanx of people in the cramped rooms. "Alright, everyone," she called out, "Let's get going then!" She gestured to the hairbrush in her right hand and old watering can in her left. "These Portkeys will be going off in just a few minutes. Let's see…Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Percy, Charlie and Arthur, you take the brush. Bill, Fleur, Angelina, Mundungus, George, Kingsley, and I will take the watering can."

In all the hustle and bustle that followed, George only just barely managed to lay a finger on the Portkey before there was a flash of blue and he felt the ground spinning out from underneath him. With a soft thump he landed moments later on the lush grass outside the grounds of Hogwarts. He looked around at the familiar sights. They weren't quite inside the actual school area, but George felt as if he knew the sights well anyway. He heard groans about him and looked around to see Ron, crumpled on the ground.

"I hate Portkeys," he grumbled, massaging his wrist. "I never could figure out how to land from them."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "I've told you before, Ronald, it's quite simple. Just--"

"'Mione, not now." Hermione surprisingly acquiesced, as the group was marching slowly toward the castle looming in the foreground, and George once again found that unhappy feeling to be residing deep down in his stomach. As they walked, George listened to the conversations of his family, which he was amused to find still resembled those that they had a year ago.

"Bill, please," begged Mrs. Weasley. "Just two inches. That's all! What kind of role model will you be for your child with hair halfway down your back?"
"Mum, for the last time, no! My child isn't going to care how long my hair is, only you do!"

"Father, you must admit that there is a much brighter future in other departments of the Ministry. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts is pretty much a close book. I'm sure Kingsley would be more than happy to promote you…"

"I'm sure he would too, son, but that is not intention of mine. Muggles are just too fascinating!"

Angelina stepped to his side and gave him a small smile. Then, as if reading his mind, said, "It's nice to see that some things don't change, no matter what else happens, isn't it?"

He draped an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, it really is."

The grounds of Hogwarts were already filled with a sea of people, all dressed in varying degrees of black, even though the actual ceremony didn't start for another few hours. George saw some familiar faces, students from when he went to Hogwarts, or people that he had met since then, but in the light of everything that happened didn't really feel like saying hi. A few little kids would run up to him and ask him about his ear, to which George would reply with varying answers, which either elicited laughter or tears, depending on the child.

The sight of Hogwarts was as familiar to George as the back of his hand—a clichéd expression, but nonetheless true. It had been fully restored to its former glory; there was no trace of the horrible battle that had occurred.

That is, except for the two huge stone walls erected outside the North Tower. The first wall was about ten feet long and six feet tall; the second almost double that. Etched at the top of the first wall was Battle of Hogwarts; may 2, 1998. Below it was written the name of every student, teacher, adult, and even Death Eater that lost their lives exactly one year ago. If you looked closely, you could even make out the name Tom riddle.

The second wrote The first and second wizarding war; 1970-1998. This massive wall was so tightly packed with names that it was hard to pick out one in particular. George keenly remembered the night Harry and Martin Kauffman—who was designing the wall—had discussed how it should be produced. Martin had wanted to put Dumbledore's name in large letters at the top, or perhaps give him his own plaque altogether. Harry had stood firm that it should be no different than the rest.

"In death, we are all equal," he had said. "I know Dumbledore would want it this way." It was also Harry who had insisted that Tom Riddle and all the Death Eater's names be included, much to the shock of the Ministry.

The horde of people surrounding this wall was so thick that George doubted they would ever get through, but upon seeing Harry the crowd parted into two halves as the people stared in awe at Harry. He smiled at them, but George knew hew as exasperated with this excessive treatment. George's eyes began scanning the wall, even as he tried to deny to himself what he was searching for. He could hear Harry and Ginny faintly in the background, pointing to Teddy's parent's names as he continued to look.

"George," a soft voice called him. Angelina's face registered briefly in his eyes as he followed the thin line of her arm to where it was pointing. Fred Weasley. There it was, carved into stone. Inerasable. Irretrievable. Forever. Slowly, George traced his fingers over each letter, as if he could reach his brother once again through the simple fact that this was his name. But he knew it was no use. Fred was long gone.

As they were heading toward the stage and their seats, a bright flash of color caught George's eye, and he turned to see Luna Lovegood walking toward them. Being a year ahead, and leaving Hogwarts before most of the action commenced, George didn't know Luna very well, and her strange antics still made him a little wary. However, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all seemed thrilled to see her.

"Luna!" they cried out, waving her over.

"Hello!" she beamed at them. They all gave her a bit of a questioning look, though she offered no explanation. She was dressed in bright pink robes, with a matching hat and her typical radish earrings. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd, which, George supposed, was what made her so endearing.

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, Ron asked. "Luna, why are your robes pink?" His face already seemed braced for whatever crazy explanation she would come up with.

She looked at him without blinking, her wide blue eyes serious. "Pink is the favorite color of the Crumple-Horned Snorcack. Daddy said that some were seen in the area!"

The four gave each other a knowing smile. "Luna, are you going to sit with us today?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I thought that was just for people who were, you know, involved in the war."

"Everyone here was involved, Luna." Harry said somberly. "You were part of the D.A., and a friend to all of us. It would mean a lot if you would sit with us."
Suddenly feeling somehow like he was eavesdropping, George once again walked away, joining up with his mother and father. Mrs. Weasley was already teary, and George could tell this was going to be a difficult evening for her. She patted his hand. "Georgie," she whispered, but didn't finish. It was okay, though, because George knew what she was trying to say. They met up with Andromeda carrying a bright-eyed Teddy, his hair a flaming red that day, making him truly look a part of the clan. Mrs. Tonks was smiling steadily, though George knew what she must be feeling.

"Ted!" cried Harry, picking up his godson and giving him a twirl.

"Haw-ry!" the child squealed in delight. It was already clear the bond forming between the two was strong. It seemed Harry was determined to make up for everything that Teddy had lost.

The grounds were packed. Sitting in the front row with his family, George couldn't even see the outline of the ground floor of Hogwarts. The stage was situated near the bank of the lake, overlooking the magnificently restored castle. People were crowded as close together as possible, and still the huddle stretched far back around the corner and out of sight. Out of the corner of his eye, George could see Harry fidgeting nervously, and Ginny unsuccessfully trying to calm him. George averted his eyes as Ginny kissed Harry softly, finally succeeding in taking his mind of having to speak in front of this imposing crowd.

George watched as Harry mounted the same platform that had been used for Dumbledore's death—he didn't doubt Harry realized this fact too, which is why he seemed to approach it with even more trepidation. Harry pointed his wand at his throat, and the crowd hushed each other until it was eerily silent, everyone listening intently to Harry's words.

"I spent many nights awake trying to figure out what I was going to say here," Harry began, his voice magically amplified so that the thousands of people that had attended could all hear him. "There's so many things I'd like to tell you, to thank each and every one of you not only for being here today, but for everything you have done in the past year and before.

"I've been known as many things in my life. The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, and for the course of a year, a 'disturbed and dangerous boy.' Those are all my past now. I'm just Harry Potter. Just like you. I loved, and I lost. I lost my parent's, my godfather, and some very close friends. I know those wounds won't ever fully heal, and I know yours won't either. That's why we're here. To honor those we lost, and to maybe feel them close to us once again. To remember them, because we are afraid to forget. But let me tell you, they won't ever be forgotten." George looked around him, and saw countless faces dripping with tears, each and every one of them fixed with a sort of intensity on Harry. George was amazed at the eloquence Harry had acquired within the last year, because he didn't believe that the Harry from even a year ago would be able to conjure up words so movingly as this one.

"Dumbledore told me in my first year at Hogwarts that, 'to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.' Most of you know selective bits and pieces of the night Voldemort died, and of my journey before, but I would like to share with you a few pieces that allow me to believe those words are true.

"The truth is, the night Voldemort was killed, I went to him first, planning on dying. I was prepared to die to give you all the chance at peace. You see, Voldemort couldn't die, because a piece of his soul was linked to mine. As long as I lived, so would he. So I went to him, fear turning my chest cold, and didn't even raise my wand as he killed me.

"I say he killed me, even though I am standing here today, because that is what he intended, and he did, except for instead of killing me, he killed the piece of himself inside of me. You all know the story of what happened from then on. That isn't what I want to tell you about. What I want to tell you is what happened between when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse and Hagrid brought me back to Hogwarts. When I awoke, I was in an unfamiliar place, alone. It looked like King's Cross to me. I thought I was dead. Then, Dumbledore was there, just as I remembered him. He explained things to me, some which I am not going to recount. He told me I was not dead, and that because of my actions and Voldemort's mistakes I would be able to finally kill Lord Voldemort. He also told me that in fact it was my choice, to go back or not. I could board the train, as I did think I was at King's Cross, and be done with this world. Be done with its pain and cruelty, and that would be my next big adventure. Though that was not the choice I made, it is how I like to think of those we lost. Not gone from us, but somewhere new, doing the things they never would have got the chance to do here.

"But today isn't about you, me, or any of us. It isn't about the pain we feel, and believe me, I know the pain you feel. Today is about them. Those we are here to honor. Those who lost their lives fighting Voldemort. Fighting for you, and for me. It is because of them that each and every one of us is standing here today. Dumbledore's last words to me were, "Do not pity the dead. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love." Do not feel sorry for those we lost, and especially do not be afraid to love again, for then we are no better than Lord Voldemort himself. Only by continuing our lives to their fullest can we hope to honor our loved ones who gave their lives so that we might have this chance."

His final words rang out among the silent, awed crowd. Then, as a single unit, they stood and clapped, tears pouring down all their faces as they applauded the boy who lived, even when all the rest of their loved ones didn't. George joined in, his hands clapping of their own accord as Harry's words echoed relentlessly in his head. It was true. All that he had said was true, and George knew now that had the roles been reversed he would have been furious at Fred for having given up as he did, for having taken so long to get his life back on track.

The sky was darkening, and after an already emotionally taxing day, George found himself following the crowd down to the majestic lake on the grounds of Hogwarts. Angelina was standing beside him again, and he clasped her hand firmly. As they neared the water, George began to see what was going on.

Little wooden boats lined the shore, each filled with a simple wax candle. "Light one for everyone you lost that you wish to remember," they were instructed. George picked up one of the small vessels, and with a flick of his wand lit the candle, and set it on the surface of the deep black water.

Dumbledore.

Moody.

Remus.

Tonks.

Sirius.

Fred.

And the saddest part was, once the last boat was set out upon the lake, hardly an inch of the glossy water could be seen. George stood on the bank of the lake, surrounding by those he loved left to him, his arm wrapped around the one most precious. For a long while, watching the candles flickering in the darkness. Suddenly the silence was pierced by a muffled cry of pain.

George whipped his head around to see Fleur hunched over, he beautiful face contorted in pain and a hand wrapped protectively over her round belly. Bill worriedly gripped her shoulders as the rest of the family hurried around them. Fleur looked at Bill, her cheeks wet.

"It's time."

Such ideas coming for the next few chapters, it's gonna be fun! So click that button down there and give me feedback if there is something you want to see coming up, don't want to see, want to change, anything!

Much love and thanks! And have a happy Thanksgiving!!