Chapter Text
1991-Hogwarts
It was dark in the hallways. Two red-haired boys were looking at an old parchment, muttering under their breath. One couldn’t keep them apart; even their own mother couldn’t.
“Fred, are we even going the right way?” One of them asked, taking a better look at the map they were holding.
“George, Dumbledore closed the third floor for a reason, and I want to know why.” The second boy hissed. “Look! He left the room. Let’s go and see what he’s hiding!”
“Mischief managed.” The two boys muttered together, pointing their wands at the map that turned into an empty, old parchment again, before putting it away in the first boy’s inside pocket, who poked his twin in his side.
“Let’s go.” He muttered. The boys slowly approached the room that their headmaster just had left, right in time to see the old man turning around the corner of the hallway. The boys quickly ran towards the now empty room, eagerly waiting for the big secret that their headmaster was trying to keep them away from.
“It’s… a mirror,” Fred mumbled, disappointed when he and his brother stood still before the old, high mirror.
“Why is Dumbledore keeping this a secret from everyone?” George mumbled, looking at the reflection of him and his dearest brother.
“I don’t know,” Fred mumbled, walking a bit closer and putting his hand on the mirror, his reflection doing the same.
“It’s nothing more than an ordinary mirror,” George mumbled, putting his hand next to his brother.
The two boys looked at their reflection a moment longer before they shrugged their shoulders and turned around.
“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” Fred mumbled while pointing his wand at the parchment he pulled out of his inside pocket.
“All clear,” George mumbled, smirking. “If we’re quick, we can prank Filch before bed.”
“Sounds good to me.” His brother whispered happily.
With a last look over their shoulder towards the mirror, the boys left the room to prank Filch for the first time that year.
1997-Hogwarts
This couldn’t be true. Fred couldn’t be dead. Pulling his leg in the worst way, the worst joke ever. He’d probably jump around a corner any moment and tell him he got punked. Or maybe he’d even tell him he would think more of him.
As George wandered through the broken and now empty halls, his mind wandered. That was the only explanation! His mother, father, Ron and Angelina… Everyone had to be in on this joke. Fred would never leave him behind!
Turning around another corner, he stopped when he saw a big hole in the wall. He didn’t know why he did it, but for some reason, he decided to take a look at the room. Climbing over the now ruined wall, he spotted a mirror that looked slightly familiar.
Walking closer, George felt his nerves tense to the point of breaking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a memory stirred of Fred and him walking in on this same mirror about seven years ago. If George was honest with himself, he had to admit he had forgotten it existed.
After cleaning the dust from it, he allowed himself to see his reflection standing all alone in the ruined classroom, lost. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught some movement; someone was approaching him. He saw Fred’s reflection walking over toward him with a goofy smile. Quicker than he thought possible, George turned, only to find no one behind him. His eyes shot back to the mirror. Fred was still standing next to him, his hand on his shoulder. George’s hand went to his shoulder, a faint sliver of hope remaining to feel the familiar warmth of Fred’s hand once more. However, once again, his hope was crushed. George removed his hand from his shoulder and instead reached out to the mirror, where it touched the hand of his brother.
That’s when reality hit him. Fred was actually dead. This wasn’t some stupid joke. Fred was gone!
His legs lost strength, and his knees crashed into the cold, stone floor. Still holding his hand on the mirror, he started to cry. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. Fred was gone. The Weasley Twins were no more. They officially had managed their final mischief. He was all alone!