Dusk - A George Weasley fanfic

CHAPTER 34

Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don't. And sometimes they twist you in a way so cruel, you become unsure if it is even possible to live anymore.

But sometimes, they make you abscond from emotion. Or in simpler words, you cannot feel. And that's what happened to me. 

I couldn't feel.

I couldn't think.

I couldn't talk.

George remained shut in Ginny's room in The Burrow (He couldn't face being in his own room, the one he had shared with Fred since the day he was born till the day they had opened their joke shop), no one bothered him. They were afraid to. 

Everyone worked around the house mechanically, preparing for Fred's funeral. And what did I do? I sat against George's door, not calling him, but hoping that he knew that I was there for him. I only sat there, sometimes whispering George's name. But he didn't respond to me, and I didn't blame him.

George had lost his best friend, his twin brother, his other half. He was so sure that Fred would be fine, so hopeful and optimistic. I saw the days when there would be a twinkle in George's eyes every time Fred would remember something, it made him so happy.

Now, he didn't make a single noise, and sometimes I was afraid that he had lost himself.

It had been a week since Fred Weasley had died due to an injury on the head. According to the Healer, if it hadn't been the accident, the mental toll would've made him lose his life. What she was trying to say was that Fred would've died anyway, and we couldn't have saved him even if we tried.

The joke shop was closed, and I didn't know how long it was going to be closed for. I couldn't bring myself to believe that Fred had died, the man who I had come to learn so much about in just a matter of a year.

Every time I thought of Fred, I thought of the charming boy who was a year above me, who along with his twin became the biggest prankster in the history of Hogwarts. The boy who always laughed, always protected the people he loved, who always had a joke up his sleeve. The boy who turned into a man and fell in love, only to have everything snatched away from him. Then I thought of Fred as enigmatic, lonely, confused. A man who just didn't know where he was.

And George and I were sure we could save that lonely man, but in reality, no one could have saved him. And I just wasn't able to bring myself to accept that.

Currently, I was at the dining table with Hermione.

"Evelyn?" she said.

"Hmm"

"Do you know what Fred's last words were?"

I had been so wrapped up in my self that I had forgotten about that.

"What?"

"Thank you Georgie, and where's Evelyn? Say thanks to her too"

I looked at her, mouth wide open.

"He what? He said that?"

"He remembered the two of you. The Healer said the hit on the head had caused the mental damage from the war to reverse, but it also killed him at the same time" she said shakily.

So Fred had finally recovered his memory.

But this time, it was his life that had been taken away.

And that made things even worse than it had been.

.

When I arrived at the outdoor funeral venue, many people were already there. Hogwarts professors, students such as Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, the entire Quidditch Team in fact. Lee Jordan, Verity, a few of our regular customers. Charlie had come from Egypt.