Here is my first ever HP7 fanfic. Hope you enjoy. My friend was screaming that I was emo after reading it, it was somewhat hilarious. Whatever Jenny Newman thinks, I am NOT emo, but that's beside the point. On with the fanfiction.


Voldemort had given them an hour to find their dead and heal their wounded. At the end of that hour, if Harry Potter did not show himself to the Dark Lord, the battle would resume. George had just been reunited with his parents, Ginny (who was being lectured by her mother for sneaking back into battle), Bill, and Charlie in the Great Hall. Ron would be with Harry and Hermione in the thick of things, and he wasn't worried about anyone else. Until Percy came.

The son who had only just been reaccepted into the family entered the Great Hall, bearing a body so like George's own it startled him.

Percy walked past his sobbing mother, speechless father, and shocked siblings, stopping only when he reached George.

Never had he seen his twin's face so empty. Emotions had been proudly upon that face, from laughter at pranks or jokes to sadness when anyone was hurt or injured. Always, there had been something on that freckled face. Now, there was nothing.

What George felt… sadness couldn't describe it. Hell, even soul-crushing agony didn't come close. He felt as if every wound he had ever experienced, self inflicted experiments and Death Eater's doings, were being multiplied by the thousands and stabbing at his body, ripping, scratching, cutting whole chunks from it. In essence, half his heart died with his twin.

Everyone knew the Weasley twins were inseparable. But no one understood that their connection was so much more than brotherly mixed with best friend. They were often compared to James Potter and Sirius Black, but had those boys ever felt like they knew each other so well that they could read each other's minds? Did they ever feel like one person? That's what Fred and George had had. They had been the only people who truly understood each other. When Fred had trouble asking out his crush in second year, George helped him burst with confidence when it came to girls. When George had been made fun of first year, he and Fred had plotted revenge: their first prank, and the beginning of a legacy. They were two halves of the same person; how was George supposed to live without his other half?

He plucked helplessly at the sleeve of Fred's robes, wishing there were a spell to reawaken the dead. It would have helped to cry, but his body didn't seem to be working anymore. More tears made their way down Ginny's cheeks as she saw, for the first time in her life, her older brother without an answer, without a joke.

Many months before, although it seemed like years, George had lost an ear. He and Fred had joked about it. He would have gladly given up his other ear or any other part of his body to be able to do that again. It was all he could do to keep from lying down next to him and Percy lay Fred down, gently, as though he were just asleep.

For a moment no one moved. They all stared at Fred, lying limper than sleep had even held him. And they all knew: the first death to the Weasley family. It was what they all had been dreading, but had been bound to happen ever since Ron had sat down in Harry's compartment over seven years before. As one, they all flooded around him like a river around a disturbing rock that had been shoved in. Only time would not erode this rock; water, at least, could forget, move on as if nothing had gone wrong.

Strangely, George didn't feel revenge take hold of his emotions. He did not want to kill the person who had murdered his brother. He wanted to finish this. He had to finish this, once and for all. No one else would lose their brother, or sister, or mother, or father, or daughter, or son.

Dying would do no one any good. George had to fight, and fight he would, even if it meant being reunited with his twin.

Kneeling by Fred's head, he forced himself to look at that blank, dead face. "I'll fight," he whispered, so even the hole on one side of his head couldn't pick it up. "I'll fight for both of us, and I'll never give up."

Mrs. Weasley threw herself upon her son's body, crying endlessly. No one could comfort her.

"He died laughing," said Percy quietly from behind the twinless twin, so young at only nineteen, too young to look so lost.

"What?" George said. Being pulled back to the real world had left him disoriented.

"He was laughing at my first joke in years." Percy half-smiled, but seemed as though he had to say these words. George returned the smile, albeit weakly. It seemed right that the jokester perished with humor as his last memory.

George no longer felt helpless. Sure, he couldn't bring his twin back, but he could do something to stop others from getting the same blow. He looked around the Great Hall; people like Fred littered it, all had died valiantly, fighting for that tiny pinprick of light at the end of this long tunnel. If George joined their number, he would go down like they had, fighting for the only thing worth fighting for.


George waved to his oldest son who was getting farther and farther away. It was fifteen years since Fred had died, but for eleven years of that time, he had seen Fred's face all over; it was in his son. Fred Weasley Jr. looked exactly like his father, from the freckles to the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. That boys was George's first of many constant reminders that he had kept fighting.


I hope you liked it. You may be screaming 'emo' at your computer screen, but review and tell me how amazing I am. Just kidding. Tell me how emo I am. Or whatever. Just Review!

This is the first of many Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows fanfics. Enjoy them as they come: bang bang bang!