Hogwarts was in an uproar of exhilaration. Cheers, shouts and laughter broke out left, right and center. Owls and Patronuses were soaring around every corner, seeking their targets to relay news. Someone had even started off fireworks outside and the sound of their thunder rocked the castle. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, had finally been defeated. By none other than the Boy Who Lived. However, some seemed immune to the excitement swelling up in the great building. Various huddles of people gathered around the victims of the Great War, mourning their losses.

George Weasley's hair was ruffled by a gentle wind that blew in from a giant, acromantula-sized hole in the wall to his right as he sat cross-legged by the body of his other half, his twin brother, Fred. He could still feel the shock etched on his face as he stared into the empty brown eyes of his brother, not comprehending. His brother's name kept repeating itself in his head like a mantra, Fred, Fred, Fred… But it wouldn't bring him back, nothing would. Yet still George sat, waiting for the waves of realization and despair to engulf him.

When a sudden pressure and warmth embraced his shoulder, he seemed to jolt, and saw Bill's hand grabbing his shoulder. It felt like he had been sitting here for hours, or days, maybe.

"George, we need to… move the body," said Bill, clearly trying to sound as reassuring as possible. George looked up, finally viewing his surroundings for the first time.

Around him, people were gathered around other bodies. Some were standing, others sitting, and a few even laying beside their lost loved ones, crying still. The sounds of the celebration had died off and George wondered how long he had been sitting there. His family had all gathered up behind George, clearly waiting for him to stand before starting to work on transporting Fred. George closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling as though he was awakening from a trance.

Reluctantly, he stood up. "H-how?" was all he managed to choke out. He struggled to pay attention to what his family was saying.

"I dunno, should we carry him?"

"We could levitate him, but that seems almost… inhumane."

"Where are we even taking him?"

George tuned them out and turned back to the face that looked so much like his own that was staring up at the enchanted ceiling, yet seeing nothing. Suddenly, George thought he saw Fred's pinky finger stir, but no. That was impossible. Fred was dead. Dead, he reminded himself. But, wait. There it was again. George couldn't believe it, but Fred's left pinky finger was definitely wiggling! Suddenly, his whole hand seemed move and George watched, wide-eyed, as life seemed to flow back through Fred's body, slowly.

"Guys…" George had turned back to his family, who were still debating transportation, for them prove to him that the sight he was seeing now was not just his imagination. The conversation stopped and they looked where George was now pointing.

Fred's upper body had pulled itself up from the floor and was swaying a little. And then, he spoke.

"Oi. that was one nasty bludger to the head, and no mistake." Fred had grabbed his head with his right arm and used his left to stabilize his still swaying body.

The Weasleys stood in amazement at the sight before their eyes, as their son appeared to rise from the dead right in front of them!

"Fred…?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"Yeah? What happened" Confusion was displayed on his face.

Ron spoke next. "You… You were dead, I saw you… die…"

Fred laughed, he actually laughed at them. "Right, funny. Now help me off the floor. My head's spinning like, like… Blimey. I can't even think of a joke." No one moved to help Fred stand up.

George conquered the shock and loomed over Fred's head, suddenly furious. "Is this some kind of a sick joke? Are you a Death Eater on Polyjuice Potion?" He barked. "Where is Fred?"

"George! I am Fred! What are you lot going on about?" Suddenly, his faced paled. "Oh… Oh no…"

"What is it?" George asked.

"The Fainting Fancies." Fred murmured.

"What?" The whole family demanded at once.

"I… I was doing a bit of an experiment yesterday to make the Fainting Fancies look a bit more realistic… Oh…" Realization seemed to hit Fred flat in the face. He picked up pace, excited. "When I tested it, nothing happened, so I wrote it off as a bust! It must have knocked me unconscious when-"

"No!" Mrs. Weasley said, interrupting him. "You weren't simply unconscious! I checked all of your vital signs. Your pulse, your heartbeat… you were g-gone…" She had started crying again and Mr. Weasley put an arm around her reassuringly.

Fred jumped up. "Really? That's incredible! George!" He turned to his twin, grinning from ear to ear, impervious to his mother's pain. "This could be a whole new Skiving Snackbox! 'Death Dragée' we'll call it! Well, the title's a work in progress but-"

He was cut off, mid-sentence by a blow to the ear by George, who was shaking with passionate tremors from his head to his toes.

"YOU BLOODY PRAT!" He roared. "YOU'RE GOING TO WISH YOU DIED!" With an explosion of adrenaline, George tackled his fresh-from-the-dead brother into the ground, punches flying.


A/N: Ha ha! Take that Rowling! Trying to kill off my favorite character, eh? You should have known that your precious plot couldn't withstand the power of the Fan Fiction writers!

On a less dramatic note, this old oneshot was dragged out of my files while I was perusing them the other day. Obviously, this was written not long after I read Deathly Hallows. Now Fred is preserved happily alive in my mind (a little bloodied up perhaps, but nonetheless, alive).