If Fred and George Weasley were well-known for anything, it was their pranks which caused explosions. From a very young age, the mischievous twins loved the booms and bangs their experiments caused. Explosions made life more interesting, and they loved to see what resulted from them.
George could remember, with crystal clear clarity, the fuss their mother would make at the sounds coming from their room. "FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!" she would holler, her shrieks being heard all through the house. "YOU WILL STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!"
But of course, the twosome didn't listen, and they kept churning out experiment after experiment, prank after prank, and the grins that lit up their faces at each crash and bang were identical. They'd high-five each other for a job well done, and look forward to what would happen next.
They still caused all the mayhem that they possibly could at Hogwarts, and there they met their adopted brother in all things mischief, Lee Jordan. He had the same sense of humor as they did, and found fun in the same things that they did. Together, the three were unstoppable, causing all kinds of grief for their teachers.
When the wizarding world collapsed around them and war broke out, it would be a lie to say that Fred and George weren't terrified. But they masked it, masked the horror with even more pranks and jokes and laughter. Their explosions became all the louder as they hid their fear, their grins became even more pronounced to hide the turmoil inside. Pranks that caused explosions - it was the one thing they could count on in this broken world. As long as they had that, they could survive anything.
Then, the day of the final battle came. Both twins were extremely uncomfortable when it came to separating from each other, though they both attempted to squash it. But each twin could see in the other's eyes that they were scared. Before they went their separate ways, they firmly embraced, slapping each other on the back.
"Be careful, Fred," George said, doing his best not to let his voice tremble.
"I will, George. You too." Fred answered with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
And with a last look, they walked away from each other, ready to join the fight that would hopefully end the reign of Lord Voldemort once and for all.
When the respite came, and the fighters were told to heal their injured and care for their dead, a sense of foreboding swept over George. He didn't know how, but he could tell something was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong.
And when he entered the Great Hall and saw the mass of redheads crowded around a body, fear and panic like he'd never known before seized him. Oh, God, no, he thought as his eyes grew wide. Oh, Merlin, no, no, no, no, no.
He ran to his family, ran as fast as he could, and then ...
Fred was lying on the ground, his blue eyes open, but they were staring lifelessly into nothingness. When George touched his hand, it was stiff and ice cold. When he shook his shoulders and desperately called his name, Fred didn't respond. George saw that there was a ghost of a smile on his frozen face, as though he had been in the middle of telling a good joke.
And then Percy was there, putting an arm around him, trying to explain with tears rolling down his face.
And the words he choked out through his sobs, the awful truth, struck George like a hammer to the solar plexis.
"The wall exploded ... there was nothing I could do ... nothing ... Georgie, I'm so sorry ... so, so sorry ..."
The wall exploded.
It was then that George realized how full of black, bitter irony his life was. Fred and George could always be counted on for their pranks, for their jokes, for their ... explosions.
And it was an explosion, a booming, devastating explosion that had succeeded in ending the life of his partner, his twin, his heart, his soul, his brother, his best friend, his everything.
And George vowed, as he howled, screamed, and sobbed on the body of his other half, that he would never find any joy in explosions ever again.