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Dead. I, Fred Weasley, was dead. The realization hit me and I fought the urge to scream. It all came back to me now.

I had been laughing at my prat of an older brother, who had managed to crack a joke. Of course, the timing was bloody horrible, but Percy had been joking, something that didn’t happen often.

And then the corridor was being blasted apart. I had still been laughing as my body slammed against the wall and I suffocated under the rubble of the corridor.

And then I was dead.

I was remembering my death when I came to a stop. I was traveling a long, winding path, which obviously lead to Heaven. Or Hell. I wasn’t entirely sure. But there was a blockade in the road, a net-like thing that resembled a Muggle Dream catcher.

It occurred to me, without really knowing how, that the dream-catcher was there to allow souls to pass on. I felt reassured. My fate was in the hands of a bloody net.

I looked at the net, gazing casually around. What now? Then I looked down. At my feet was a plaque that was engraved with block like letters.

On the path between Heaven and Hell

Ye Walk. And now thee must make a choice-

Continue or turn back.

Your choice will effect eternity.

Choose wisely.

My hand ran instinctively through my red hair. “I can go back?” I asked aloud, my voice filled with awe and gratitude. A happiness overwhelmed me.

Then I slapped myself. Hard.

“Of course I can go back,” I murmured, frowning. “Nick and the Baron and loads of others have gone back.”

I gazed around the deserted cobble-stone path on which I stood.

“Err..I think I’m going to go back, thanks,” I said, swinging my head around for a response. None came.

Before I knew what was happening, I was in a pit of darkness, my head reeling. I felt an antagonizing pain shoot up my spine and through my skull. I was being ripped from myself—yet somehow my soul maintained my memory, my feelings, and my form. I felt light-headed as the darkness subsided.

Before I really had time to register what had just happened, the pain was gone. I glanced cautiously down at my body, half-expecting what was to come. But that didn’t stop the shock from flooding through me as I saw the transparent skin that held the faintest tinge of pale flesh.

I was a ghost.

Shaking my head, I peered at my surroundings. I was in a vaguely familiar room. The Burrow maybe? No, there were shelves stocked high with products and items. The shop. I looked around again. Yes, definitely the shop. Sure enough, in the very backroom, I saw a familiar red-head that, clear skin aside, looked exactly like me. My twin brother George was sitting at a desk, his freckled face in his palms and elbows resting on the wooden surface.

“Fred, Fred, Fred. You weren’t supposed to die, Fred. None of us were.” George spoke quietly and, as I drifted nearer to him, I saw a photo of our large family shivering under his hard gaze, a reasonably large puddle of salty tears smudging the picture.

I thought twice about laying a hand on my brother’s shoulder as a fresh round of tears started to fall from his eyes.

In the background, as I watched my brother crying, I swear I heard music. I could just make out the words.

It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that we went through


“Fred. Fred. Fred.” George sobbed, and I felt guilty. I shouldn’t have died. I left them.

When I could take it no longer, I cleared my throat. A sad grin played my lips as I came into my twin’s view at last. He shook with another round of sobs.

“Fred. Fred. God dammit, Fred.”

I lingered for a moment before answering.

“Yes?”

George turned around. I saw the terror in his eyes. He seemed incapable of speech, opening and closing his mouth several times. Open. Close. Open. Close. And then he seemed to burst with anger, and he was yelling at me before I could even manage a meager explanation.

“You bloody idiot!” He screamed, I winced. Yes, ghosts can still wince. “What the hell do you think you’re doing—going and getting yourself killed like that? Everyone is a bloody mess over you and-“ He seemed to realize what was going on before his very eyes. He seemed to realize that I was really there—and he wasn’t dreaming.

I managed a smile. And a half-hearted wave.

Fred?” He asked, staring at me wide-eyed and horrified. “But—no—you can’t be here. You’re, you’re,” he choked and had to whisper the last words. “You’re dead.”

I rolled my eyes, not enjoying the light-headed feeling it gave me.

“Well, you know, if you want me to go back---“

He shook his head so hard I was surprised it didn’t fall off. “NO!” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his red hair. I thought with a pang about how mine was now  transparent silver. “You’re—you’re really here, aren’t you?”

I grinned, nodding my head slowly.

“Like I said before we went in the school—“ I stopped, wanting to see if he remembered.

“We’re going in together and coming out the same way,” my brother managed a little smile to mirror my own. “You came back.”

I nodded slowly.

“I came back.”

We just sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. I mean, after all, what do you say to a dead brother, right? George didn’t seem to know either.

“Did it—you know—hurt?” He asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs.

I looked at him for a minute. He meant to ask if it hurt to die. The answer, for me at least, was no. I shook my head. Tears of relief filled his eyes.

“Good.”

“It was weird, though.” I went to tell him more, but found that I couldn’t talk about. With a frown I realized this had to have something with that stupid net-thing. It had said something about my choice altering eternity. Apparently, that could easily imply that if I came back I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. I was a little hurt that I couldn’t share this weird adventure with my brother, and I could see in his eyes that he must have realized what was wrong and was hurt too.

We sat in silence for a while, or, George sat and I floated stupidly a good three inches off the ground. It seemed like hours, or maybe days, until either of us spoke again. I didn’t think I had much left to say, and George apparently had to much to think over.

He always was the rational twin.

Then he broke the silence.

“We have to tell Mum that you’re back.”

I stared at him. Of course we did. We couldn’t keep it from the family. The family.  I thought with a pang—what if—no. George would have said something.

But I had to ask. “Was—Am—Did anyone else, you know, die?” I pursed my clear lips together, wishing for breath to hold. George looked at me, shocked.

“What? No,” he said slowly. “No. You were the only one.”

He stood up suddenly and, not wanting to make him feel like he needed to have me around constantly, I stayed back. He poked his back in the room a few seconds later.

“Hey, Fred?” He said quietly. I looked up.

“Yeah?”

“Glad to have you back.” And he went to floo Mum.


Author's Note: I'm a TA! yay! Anyways, that means things will be moving along rather quickly with this story--hopefully. And lots of Fred/Angelina Bplot fluff is in store. Uh-Oh. Please leave a review, guys, CC is welcome as is feedback.
 Of course, if I had written HP, I wouldn't be writing this now, because I wouldn't have killed Fred in the first place! (That means I'm not JKR and I'm not profiting form this--except the emotional comfort it gives me) The song in the shop scene is 'Who You'd Be Today' By Kenny Chesney.
-Anjii

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