There is more than one kind of ghost. There are actual, physical ghosts, the imprints of departed souls who wander between worlds. There are photographs and portraits that show dead people, faint imitations of what they were in life.

Then there are the less obvious ghosts. The little reminders we get every day, the things we can’t forget.

I know you don’t know about such ghosts, Roxy. You’re too young. But I know such ghosts. I see them every day, every minute.

It’s difficult to live with ghosts. I know it was my choice to marry George. I know. It was always Fred I liked better, I admit it. He was a little bolder, a little edgier. It was hard to tell of course. They were twins in every sense of the word. But I knew them well enough.

Don’t get me wrong. I love your father. We got through losing Fred together. We worked together.

But every day, George is a ghost.

So is your brother. He’s so much like the old Fred. I see it all the time. I know.

Even you, Roxy. You look just like him. I love you for you, but there’s still that ghost. That reminder.

You won’t remember these stories. How could a newborn baby remember these words? That’s why I’m telling you.

I have no one else to tell.

*

I heard you, Angelina.

I always knew you liked him better. I always knew you turned to me for comfort.

And I see the ghosts, too.

But being a ghost… that’s something else. I don’t know how to handle being a constant reminder.

I already felt like that to my family, my mother. She can look at me without tearing up now, but I know she’s always thinking that there should be two.

I see more ghosts than any of you. You can’t live with someone for twenty years and not see reminders of him everywhere. I see him in the shop, in the streets, everywhere I go, he’s there.

Little Freddy is just like he was then. You were right about that. He’ll grow up to be just like my brother, just like me.

And I see it in Roxy, too. She may become just as wild, just as fun.

I’m not fun anymore. I’m not Fred.

And I don’t really mind that you liked him better. I love you, Angelina.

And I’ll never actually tell you that I overheard. It would kill you.

*

Will I ever stop seeing him?

Will he ever stop haunting me?

Will I ever love him less?

No.

I never will. I can never stop.

And I’m sorry, George. I can never love you in the same way.

But I do love you. You’re all I have left of him.

Freddy is there, yes, and he’s just like his namesake. Roxy is there, and she has that look. I love them as my children.

But I also love them as him.

And you, George. You are like him in almost every way. I love you for your differences, as my husband.

But I also love you for Fred.

I hope you understand. I hope you don’t hate me for it.

And above all, I hope you don’t read this diary.

*

I wish I was more like Fred.

I wish I didn’t worry about things. I wish I could forgive as easily. I wish I was as impulsive as he was.

Subtle things. Most people wouldn’t know that I wasn’t exactly like him.

But you know, Angelina. I know you do. You knew us better than almost anyone else. You loved him. And you’ll never stop loving him.

And I’m just a ghost.

But I love you. I can’t help loving you.

Maybe you don’t realize you’re a ghost as well. He loved you. He changed you. He’s part of you.

And every time I look at you, I see how much he was part of you.

And I love you for it.

*

Be good, Freddy.

Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You prefer just Fred now. You’re grown and going to Hogwarts.

Regardless of what your name is, be good. I don’t want to get any owls about how much trouble you’re getting into.

That would be too much.

I know, George. You got letters sent home almost every day. That’s why I’m warning him.

Don’t you dare, Frederick Lee Weasley! Blowing up a toilet is not acceptable under any circumstances.

Stop giving him these suggestions, George. If he listens to you, he’ll get expelled.

All right, all right. Have a little bit of fun, but keep your grades up.

There’s one ghost gone.

*

Merlin, he’s just like us. It’s scary.

Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean less reminders of my twin. I still see Fred everywhere. Especially in Roxy. I’ll never know how she looks so much like Fred.

Will I ever forget?

Of course not. I know better. There’s no point in trying.

There are days when I don’t think of him, when I can put him out of my mind. But then something happens that reminds me. Freddy will do something crazy, or Roxy will say something, or Angelina will suddenly tear up. I know why. And then I remember.

I know Fred wouldn’t want me to act like this, to always be dwelling on the past, but Fred didn’t really understand. He hadn’t lost someone so close to him. Despite his edginess, he’ll always have a sort of innocence because he never knew what this was like.

I almost envy him. I wish I didn’t have to figure out how to move on.

Occasionally, I wish I’d died too.

But mostly I wish he had lived.

So what if he had married Angelina? It wouldn’t have been much different.

Then I know that’s rubbish, and that I wouldn’t trade my wife and children for anything. Not even having Fred back.

*

How long can I keep doing this?

How long can I keep thinking about Fred and how I loved him before it ruins my marriage?

George knows. I know he knows. Somehow, I can’t keep it a secret.

And I know I’ll never stop. There are too many ghosts. Too many reminders.

The only way to forget Fred is a Memory Charm. And that would mean forgetting George, forgetting our children.

Forgetting everything.

Is it worth it? No.

Do I want to anyway? Yes.

How can I do that? I can’t! It’s stupid to forget Fred.

But after all this time, can I live with it? Can I remember how I loved him without hurting George?

Or will we fall apart?

*

I can’t take it anymore. I know she loves me, but I know all she thinks about is him.

This is how it always was with us. Even though we were identical, Fred always had better luck with girls. He knew how to charm them. It was an instinct I never had.

And even though he’s dead, he’s still winning Angelina in a way I never could.

It’s not fair to her for me to tie her down. All she has here are memories.

All she sees are ghosts.

I’ll never stop seeing ghosts. But if I let her go…

Do I love her enough?

*

I won’t leave you.

I know I haven’t been the best wife to you, but I love you. As George.

Fred… he’s gone. And leaving you won’t change that. I’ll never stop seeing ghosts either. He’s always with us, somehow. And while we’re together, we can accept that. We can live with it.

And he never would have had the courage to let me go. I know that. You were always more cautious, more thoughtful. I know you mean what you say. I could never be sure with him.

You are more than a ghost. Yes, you are a ghost, but every day, you’re less of a reminder and more of a husband. It’s taken years to work out, but now it’s done. It’s perfect.

And you just confirmed it by offering me that chance. I’ll never only see him.

In fact, I may never see him again.

*

Why don’t you leave, Angelina?

I know this marriage isn’t the best. I know that you love him more. I can let you go.

I know you’re right. There will always be ghosts. And he’ll never be gone. I guess…

I could be sure of what Fred meant and what he didn’t. He loved you. He loved you as much as I do… more, even. You can be sure of that. I’m just a ghost of him.

It is perfect. You’re more than a ghost as well. We’re one ghost now. We can work through this.

But I will always see him everywhere.