Unlikely || George Weasley

Chapter 1 - Aftermath

The Great Hall, 3 May 1998
 
The cold morning air was ripped from his lungs, the weight of the hall and world around him crushing his insides and suffocating him slowly.

George didn't fight the tears this time, and let them flow steadily down his scorched and bloodied face, trailing a path in the grime down his cheeks. He took a shuddering breath in an attempt to ground himself, and squeezed his mother's hand. He could feel Molly shaking, supported on her other side by his father, who met George's eyes for the first time since the fighting stopped and Voldemort fell.

George was sure he could see everything he was feeling and failing to accept – the agony of the impossibility that Fred was no longer alive – reflected in the watery hazel of his father's eyes.

George and Fred's eyes, too.
 
As the dawn light crept over the Forbidden Forest, the broken and crumbling Great Hall was filled with the bittersweet commotion of both celebration and mourning, the cries of joy and triumph interwoven with broken sobs and murmurings of the bereft as they held each other.

The battle was over, the war was won. And yet, as his entire family surrounded the body of Fred Weasley, George could only find in his heart the endless chasm of loss.

Most of the fallen fifty and the badly injured had been moved to separate rooms off of the main corridor, but not one of the Weasleys had tried to move Fred. To move him from the hall would be to accept that he wasn't going to stand up, stretch his arms and smile back at them all like this was part of their plan all along.

Just another joke gone a little too far.

George bit the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste copper. He closed his eyes.
 
The body of Lord Voldemort was still in the hall. An insult to both the living and the dead, it needed to be moved from sight while the remaining Death Eaters were surrounded and tied by bonds from McGonagall and Flitwick's wands.
Straight to the depths of the Ministry and then to Azkaban, George hoped.

Ginny gasped next to him, pulling George from his spiralling thoughts, and he followed her gaze left to see the figures of Harry, Ron and Hermione emerge through a gaping hole blown through the side of wall from the outside.

Not two hours ago, it had been teeming with Acromantula and caved in by the footfalls of giants.

Ginny ran straight to Harry and collided with him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him with such a force that George was surprised Harry hadn't stumbled. Instead, he gripped her back tightly. After a few moments – and awkward looks from Ron and Hermione – they broke apart.

The "golden trio" as they had often been called, really did suit the name as they stood side by side, George thought, bathed in the warm glow of the early morning sun rising behind them.

Harry's face was worn, looking like he was ready to sleep for the next hundred years if he could. Ron's mouth was set in a firm line and Hermione -

Well, she looked exhausted of course. But also hopeful, powerful, cautious, relieved and honestly?

Fierce. Beautiful.

 The sight caused an enormous surge of pride and relief through George's heart.

So very, very Gryffindor, he thought.

The four of them walked swiftly over to the Weasley family, Harry's hand still tucked firmly into Ginny's. But as  they approached, he paused – reaching his free hand into his pocket and pulling out a small and rough looking stone.

"What is that?" Ginny asked.

The small rock was emanating a gentle pulse in Harry's palm, and George could taste the air around them warping slightly.

"It's from Dumbledore," Harry replied, frowning. "It's one of the Hallows, but it's... it's burning up. It hasn't done this before." He trailed off, the whole family now watching the stone closely.

There was a ripple in the air, the stone seeming to throw out a pulse of energy before going still in Harry's hand.

"Can you feel that?" Hermione whispered, moving a hand and placing it to her heart.

The thrumming restarted, but this time it surrounded them all and George could feel it inside his chest, pushing against his hands as he instinctively reached for Fred -

"Yeah," Ron answered, looking around the hall for the source of the deep pulsing that seemed like it was coming from the floor beneath them, yet resonating through body and blood. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Harry cried out suddenly in pain as the resurrection stone grew furiously red with heat – George could feel the warmth from several feet away and watched with his mouth agape.

"Harry, get back!" Molly called out, reaching for him as if to snatch him up and protect him from the expected dark magic. His mind racing with panic, George lunged forward and grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her back from the stone without a second thought, placing himself in front of her as though he was her shield.

 It wasn't over, they'd been foolish to think they'd won, Voldemort would kill them all and they'd been so complacent to think they'd defeated him-

Every person and creature in the Great Hall watched in shock as the stone soared high into the air, meeting the rise of the sun across the horizon through the gaping hole in the stonework. It was hard to see what happened next, as George had to shield his eyes and crouched down, dragging Hermione with him, to avoid being blinded.

Through his fingers, he saw the stone engulfed in a blazing golden and white light, a sphere of energy rising from the place Voldemort's body was laying, and a tendril of blue energy connected outwards from the stone to the enchanted ceiling above. Another golden beam from the stone stretched towards George, past his head, past his mother towards-

Fred.

It was over in seconds, and an eerie muffled silence filled the chamber.

George tentatively moved his hands from his face. He vaguely registered that Hermione was shaking under his arms, and that he was gripping her shoulders so tightly his knuckles were white. Had he hurt her?

"Is everyone alright? Ginny? Bill?" Arthur called out, slowly standing up from his protective stance over his wife.

"D-Dad!" George recognised the voice as Charlie's. He swivelled on the spot to see his second eldest brother on the floor, quickly backing away from the stretcher in front of them.

George's eyes grew wide.

Fred's body was glowing.

The same searing gold and white fusion of energy that had exploded from the stone was wrapped around the figure on the floor, radiating warmth and power. Slowly, ever so slowly, the intensity began to fade away until it disappeared entirely, seeping into Fred's pale skin.

A heartbeat later,

No this is impossible-

A finger twitched. Did it?

What? WHAT?

 Fred opened his eyes.

George stopped breathing.
 
"...Georgie?"