George Weasley and the Stone of Resurrection

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, items, plot, or anything else from the wonderful world of Harry Potter. They all belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling.

((I know it's early to be posting fan fics up here considering Deathly Hallows came out only yesterday, but I finished and am already immersed in my second read-through. I just had to get this idea up here before anyone else thought of it. I'm going to post this first chapter and it might be a bit until I get to write/post the others, but I had to get this up here, but hopefully you'll read them when I do.

So, I truly hope you loved Deathly Hallows just as much as I did, and hopefully you finished it already and if you haven't DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT read this until you have finished!))

Full Summary: In the wake of Fred's death, in the wake of Voldemort's defeat, George Weasley is torn. Along with the happiness and sorrow of the times, the reconstruction of the world after such a terrible war is not all that holds George's thoughts. With terrible nightmares, peculiar dreams, and intriguing rumors, George finds himself being led by a greater aspiration. Venturing into an unknown realm of family and magical history, George knows what is at stake: the business, his family, and even possibly a new love. George knows that what he seeks is nearly impossible, nearly insane, but he is empowered by love and loss greater than logic. George seeks to bring back the one thing he supposedly can't: the second piece of himself, his twin.

Chapter One


George couldn't breathe. He couldn't talk, couldn't move. He couldn't even discern as to whether his own heart was still beating or not. George could only stare at the body lying below him.

His entire family had surrounded it. But he didn't notice them, couldn't notice them. He couldn't notice his mother breaking down, sobbing and crying out with a hurt passion he had never witnessed before. He couldn't see his father, hands trembling, like pale icicles about to be shaken down from their hold, trying to console her. He couldn't notice Ginny fighting the tears off and losing the battle, nor could he witness Percy clenching onto his wand with both hands so tightly that it was hard to tell which would happen first, the wand snapping or his knuckle bones piercing through his taut skin.

George could only stare at the body lying below him.

The body really couldn't breathe, talk, or move. The body no longer held a heartbeat, no longer kept a pulse. The body was just that- a body.

Perhaps it was that he was looking down at his own face, his own mirrored reflection that gave him the impression that he was dead, too.




It couldn't be real, could it? Could… could it?


Just a body…

No matter how long George stared, he knew that the face, the body below him would never breathe, talk, or move again. It would never laugh, joke, tease, invent, smile, comfort, live ever again. It was dead. It was silenced and still. A part of George was dead, and that's how he knew that Fred was.



A sickness gripped his stomach, threatening to explode if he thought that horrible word any more.

Fred… Fred, Fred, FRED!

A desperate sadness, an emptiness filled George's very core. Every vein in his body was aching, every cell, every particle that proved he was alive while his brother- his twin - lay in death hurt like a small, painful pinch.

It had to be a dream…

It had to be a nightmare…

Fred couldn't be gone. Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't! Now there was an anger, a monster of anger being fed by the sadness.

Fred wasn't. He couldn't be. He was. He isn't. He is.

Nightmare, nightmare, nightmare.


My twin is gone.


Revenge. Yes, yes, yes. He would get revenge. He would kill every single one of them! He would torture them! Make them pay! How dare they! How dare they steal him, take him away!

What was the point?

His brain, his heart, his anger, his sadness- it was all contradicting itself. Nothing made sense but the choking emptiness, the picture that strangled his mind, the sight of his brother laying there. The truth.

There was no point to revenge! It was already too late. Too late… His whole body seemed to lurch. The room around him, the room he could not notice, was spinning as he could only continue to stare.

It made no sense…



Just a body…


He was looking into a mirror. His reflection was dead.