Left Behind (A Fred & George fanfic)

12. Sticks and Stones

George slowed his pace as he reached the edge of the forest. Weak, he kept telling himself, you’re weak. The moment he’d seen there was nothing on the Map – no sign of his brother – he’d made a run for it. He didn’t know where he was heading, he didn’t really care either, he just had to get away.

Exhausted, he let himself rest against the nearest tree for a moment.

Why? Why did this happen to him? Why couldn’t he just stay with his son, who was probably freaking out right now? Weak.

He was so frustrated, angry with himself, sad because he had hoped to see his brother again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He smashed his hand against the tree. Unfortunately the tree didn’t give way and he hurt his fingers badly.

George didn’t know what to do – so he walked. Again. Away from everything, so nothing could hurt him anymore.

He found himself wandering through the Forbidden Forest, he had no clue where he was, how long he had been walking. It was dark everywhere he looked, not that that told him anything about what part of the day it was – this forest made even the brightest day look like a dark mysterious night.

Suddenly he remembered all the stories Ron had told him about the Forest; the nest of spiders, descendents of the infamous Aragog, the centaurs. He had seen a thestral once already, after the Battle of Hogwarts, and he hadn’t really enjoyed the sight of the thing.

Of course Fred and he had been in the Forest multiple times, but they had always stayed close to the edge, able to get away from any danger if they had to. Right now George didn’t care about any of those ‘dangers’ at all. He’d be glad if a centaur or a huge spider showed up and ripped him to pieces. Then he could really get away from this place.

He kicked at some loose twigs that lay on the ground. He screwed up today, and he screwed up big time. He had left Angelina, the person that understood him the most. He had probably scared his own son, and what for? A fake hope that he should have never let in. He should’ve known this didn’t change anything. It wasn’t like Fred – real Fred, Fred the first – was just going to pop up again, alive and well.

What is dead, should stay dead, his mom had once told him.

That was before the Second War though.

Dammit, Fred! George thought frustrated. Why did you have to go? Why you? Why couldn’t they just at least take both of us? It would have been so much easier. Living without his brother wasn’t really life. It was like George was half the person he used to be.

Suddenly something on the ground caught his attention. He had been kicking twigs on the ground the entire time, but now he’d accidentally shoved some sand aside and something shiny showed itself. The tiny bit of curiosity left in George made him kneel down, trying to find out what a tiny shiny and pretty object would do in a big dark forest like this.

After rubbing a bit of sand out of the way (it looked as if some kind of animal had walked here, pushing the object deeper into the ground), he picked up a polished black stone and examined it. It had an octagonal shape and a weird symbol was engraved in it: a triangle with a vertical line and a circle inside of it. The symbol looked vaguely familiar to him – where had he seen it before?

The ground was covered in leaves and twigs and very uncomfortable to sit on, but George sat down anyway. For about 15 minutes he looked at the mysterious stone, holding it still in his hand, wondering what it remembered him of – trying hard to keep all the other thoughts out.

Soon he realized he couldn’t stay in this forest forever, he had to go back to his life, his kids and his wife. Staying beneath these dark trees till he died wouldn’t help anybody except himself.

It took him some time and a great deal of determination, but finally he stood up.

He held the tiny stone as he walked on. Soon his thoughts wandered off again, and – as always – he thought of Fred. He just thought of the happy memories though, he tried to hold on to those as he came nearer to the castle. He didn’t want to be seen crying.

“Oi bro, why the sad face?”

George jumped and accidentally dropped the stone. He looked around anxiously. Did he just really hear that? He carefully scanned every tree around him, but he saw nothing.

“Great,” he said to himself. “It took me a long time, but now finally I’m really going nuts.” He leaned down and picked up the little stone again, not really knowing why he wanted to take it with him.

“Yup, you definitely became a lunatic.”  

George nearly fainted when he saw him. Fred stood only a few foot next to him, his hands on his side as if he was proud of himself, exactly the same as he had done twenty years ago.

“Wh-what? How…” George was unable to speak. Words seemed to fail him when he looked at his brother. He hadn’t changed a thing, except for the fact that he didn’t look exactly… solid. As if he was something between a living being and a ghost.

“You tell me, you’re the one holding the funny stone.” Fred pointed at the little thing in George’s hands. George looked at it with wonder. “Exactly, that’s the reason I’m here.”

George clenched the stone in his fist, promising himself to never let go of it again. The stone looked like a tiny ball of light to him now, a bit of happiness, the solution to his problems. George walked towards Fred.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I don’t think you’ll be able to actually touch me.”

“But, how is this possible, where have you been?” He had to be dreaming, he thought. This couldn’t be true.

“Who cares?” Fred shrugged. “I’m here! Now let’s get back to your wife. I still have to pick a bone with you on that one though, stealing my ex-girlfriend.” He smiled one of his crooked smiles.

George laughed. “That’s what you get for leaving us!”

For one brief moment, George felt young and happy again.

Together the twins walked (or floated, in Fred’s case) through the forest, back to civilization.