George walked among the dark, intimidating trees in a straight path just as Harry had told him. Although he didn’t scare easily, the dead silence of the forest, combined with his current state of mind, had begun to unnerve him. Not to mention the sun had begun to set. He judged that there was only about half an hour of light left.
In the distance, there was howling, the only sound George had heard since he had entered the forest. He took out his wand and muttered, “Lumos.” His wand tip lit up to guide him through the growing darkness.
I must be out of my mind, he thought to himself. Searching for a clearing I’ve never been to, in the dark, no less, because Harry thought it would somehow do Fred justice. But it doesn’t matter a goddamn bit because Fred is gone, what would he care?
He had wanted to be alone, but now that he was, he felt isolated, as if he had stepped into a different world only he inhabited. He imagined that that was just what had happened: that the ghostly trees towering over his head and the mist that had begun to hang over the ground had become his domain. With the silence pressing in on him, weighing heavily on his chest, he had never felt more alone.
And yet, he also found the silence comforting. He let his mind wander. He thought back to what he had said to Harry about Percy. He looked back on it now and felt ashamed by what had passed between him and Percy. It had been just before George had gone outside and found Harry. He had been walking toward the oak front doors when he’d heard Percy call his name. He had said he wanted to talk to him, and so they had sat down in the entrance hall against the wall, not looking at each other:
“We haven’t really had a chance to talk,” Percy said.
“About what?” George said stubbornly.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Alright then, I'm listening.”
“George… I just want to know how you are doing. I mean, what you’re thinking about all this. You know what happened and how it happened, and I just need to know…” he trailed off. George waited patiently. “You understand it was an accident, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I just wanted to make sure that you’re not going to…um…try anything”“
“What do you mean?”
Percy’s face reddened and he said sheepishly, “Well, George, you’re not exactly one to sit by quietly when you think something needs to be done.”
“What needs to be done, Perce?” George looked sideways at Percy. He could tell that his brother was uncomfortable, and felt a grim sort of amusement.
“That’s just it,” Percy said. “Nothing needs to be done. There’s nothing anyone can do to change anything. No one’s to blame”“
“Percy, do you think I want revenge? Who could I get revenge on? I don’t even know who did it, no one does.” It suddenly greatly irritated him that neither of them would say what “it” was. He just wanted to scream it aloud: Fred is dead!
“Alright,” Percy said, holding up a hand to calm him. “I was just wondering. You’ve been rather quiet; everyone is beginning to worry about you.”
“What did you think I would do?” George continued, his voice growing just a little too loud, angry that Percy was making such assumptions. “Go on a killing spree? It might not have even been a Death Eater; it could have been anyone! How do you know what I would do? I know I have a tendency to be rebellious, but I haven’t changed that much since you walked out on us”“
“You are still angry with me.” Percy’s voice was calm and quiet. It was a statement, not a question. He held George’s gaze until George was forced to look away. Then George admitted:
“Yes.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Percy nodded. “Do you blame me for what happened to Fred?”
“What?”
“He was with me. If I hadn’t been there, Fred would have been somewhere else.”
“You don’t know that.”
“George, please answer me. Do you blame me?”
George couldn’t answer. He stood up and, without looking at his brother, strode out the front doors.
Fred had forgiven Percy for leaving. He was sure of it. He knew that if Fred were there, they would be together, laughing away the horrors that the day had held. He thought of the many happy times; being Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, playing practical jokes on Percy, inventing sweets and gadgets that they had dreamed they would one day sell in their own shop…
The joke shop. What was to become of it now? Could he work up the courage to go back? Or would he let it collect dust in the back of his mind for the rest of his life”
He awoke from his reverie as he stumbled on a stray root blocking his path. Catching himself, he looked ahead and realized that the trees were opening up in front of him. He walked on, coming to a halt a few feet from the entrance to a wide open clearing. He raised his lit wand over his head to get a better view.
The clearing was lined with large, shimmering webs, which George knew were from the spiders that had rampaged through the school earlier that day. In the center, there was what looked like the remnants of a bonfire, the only visible object in the clearing. The moon had begun to glow, casting its light down to highlight the trees on the other side. But what was here? What was he supposed to see that was so important?
Only hours ago, and unbeknownst to George, this very clearing had been a sight for a gathering; that of Death Eaters, all huddled around the fire, with Voldemort waiting patiently for Harry Potter to give himself up to him, which is exactly what Harry had done: He had appeared in the opening of the clearing, as George had just done, and looked out at the faces of the Death Eaters, and Voldemort’s slanted red eyes, gazing curiously back at him. It was at about this time that Harry had dropped something he had been clutching in his hand: something that had brought him much comfort on his walk toward imminent doom…
George took a step into the clearing, and as he did, his wandlight passed over the ground before him and something glinted. George looked down and saw a stone, round and smooth with a crack running through the center, big enough to fill most of his palm, he found, as he picked it up. He stared at it for a moment, wondering about this rock that seemed out of place, almost as if someone had put it there for him to find. Was this what he needed to see? But it couldn’t be. It was just a stone. What could it do for him?
Taking the rock with him, he continued forward. He went and sat in the center, facing the pile of charred wood. He took a deep breath and looked around him. Unlike the rest of the forest, the clearing had a peaceful air about it. Despite the moonlight, it was getting too dark to see what was around him. He pointed his wand at the firewood and lit a fire, then extinguished his own wandlight.
He closed his eyes and began to turn the rock in his hand, continuing to take in deep breaths. He knew that his family would be worried if he did not return soon, but at that moment he did not care. He just wanted to be free of thought for only a little while even though he couldn’t stop the onslaught of waking nightmares racing through his mind.
To calm himself, he began thinking of what life had been like, because he knew that life has he had known it was changed forever. He thought back to the night when he had been attacked by Snape, when he woke up and saw his family standing around him, saw Fred, remembered the feeling of relief he had felt when he saw him, pale and shaken, but alive. He tried to picture Fred’s face lighting up when he’d realized that George was alright and telling him how pathetic his ear jokes were. At this memory, George tried to force a smile, but found that he couldn’t.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling, cracking noise. His eyes snapped open, and he saw a young man sitting to his right, prodding the fire with a stick. For a moment, he thought it was Ron and he opened his mouth to ask him how he had snuck up on him. But just then, the man turned his head toward him, and it was not Ron.
George jumped up, startled so fiercely that he drew his wand, pointing it at the last of his brothers he had expected to see.