Chapter Text
George took a deep breath before finishing the last rite of his ceremony. He had spent months in preparation for this, and he was positive it was going to work. Only a few more steps until he was reunited with his twin, who had been sorely missed since his death during the war, and he would feel whole again.
He had come across the book unexpectedly- it had wound up in a shipment of supplies for the shop by accident, or so he thought until he saw the title. "The Lost Art of Resurrection." It was a sign. It had to be. He stayed up the entire night reading the tome, feeling more and more convinced that he could bring Fred back, and he had been excited to get started. He spent the next few months gathering everything he needed, and he had casually questioned Ron about what he remembered from the Department of Mysteries, knowing Ron would be too thick to get suspicious of why he was asking in the first place. Merlin love his brother, but he had a big mouth. Finally, George was ready to take his big chance, and he found himself disillusioned and on his way to the Death Chamber, made famous by the death of Sirius Black during the war.
He spread out the supplies and took a moment to gather his thoughts before beginning. He needed to repeat the process perfectly, or he lost his chance forever, so the stakes were high. He placed the items as described in the book, the bag of ashes from yew branch burned at midnight, a circle of salt was spread around the veil itself, an assortment of ingredients placed in strategic points of the circle. Last, he put a bracelet that had belonged to Fred in the center of the circle, one of the few pieces of jewelry that Fred owned that George had the matching piece to. He picked up a knife and cut his finger, drawing runes on the stones of the veil, muttering as he drew. "Thurisaz- opening the door. Raidho- a journey. Gebo- unity. Jera- reward. Algiz- Spirit Guide. Sowilo- completion. Teiwaz- the spiritual self. Berkana- family, and home. Ehwaz- balance. Mannaz- we are all one. Perthro- the heart of initiation."
George stepped back and looked at the stones. The runes had been placed perfectly and had begun to glow. He felt his heart start to race as he was finally so close to his goal, and he quickly continued his incantations. "Sacred Magic, heed my call. Bring to me he whose life was ended too early. He who has unfinished business among the living. Bring to me the brother of my heart, the half to my whole, a twin lost in battle." He placed his bracelet on his wrist and covered Fred's bracelet with that hand as he whispered the final incantation. At the end, the Veil began to glow, and George backed up, his heart racing with anticipation as he saw a form come through the veil and fall to his knees.
………
Hermione rubbed her eyes wearily as she finished writing her report. It had been a long day, but she wanted to get this finished before she left, and she had stayed behind, writing as the rest of her department left. She loved her work as an Unspeakable, and she was hoping that this proposal would be the start of her new project in researching reversal spells. Not that it mattered to her anymore- her parents were gone, but maybe her findings would be able to help someone in the future. She had just finished the last sentence when the alarm went off, causing her quill to skid across the paper. She jumped up. The alarm had never gone off before, and she ran to the room of doors to see what was going on and noticed the entrance to the Death Chamber was open. "Bugger," she muttered as she drew her wand. She sent a Patronus to the Auror department for backup and ran into the Death Chamber, wand before her, ready to strike. As she entered, she saw George, who had fallen back in shock, the remnants of his work surrounding him. "George?" She approached him cautiously. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"
"Never mind that." Hermione and George turned as they heard a new voice. "Where the bloody fuck am I? Who the hell are you two? And why in Merlin's saggy ass am I naked?" Hermione squeaked at his language and averted her eyes as the man roamed around the room, trying to figure out where he was.
"Here." George removed his outer robe and threw it at the man, who nodded in thanks and put it on. After he was decent, Hermione stole another look at the man. He was familiar- but Hermione couldn't quite place him. A handsome red-headed man, not the flaming red that George sported, but more of an auburn. His hair was shaggy, but not unkempt, and his eyes, a bright blue shone with wariness and confusion.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. "Both of you? Where's Gid?" He stormed up to George, who was still gaping wordlessly, his wand raised. "Answer me!"
"I'm…George," he stammered. "George Weasley."
The man studied George closely. "I have a nephew named George Weasley, but he isn't even three yet."
George lowered his wand and studied the man before him. "Who are you?" he finally asked.
"Prewett…Fabian Prewett."