A Tale of Two Twins

I knew. Even before the letter came, even before they came to tell me, I knew.

I just wish I knew how to react.

He was always there for me. Just like he promised. He said he'd always be there for me. We were always really close. We were always together--he, Ron, Ginny, and I. Well, he and I, at least. Once we started Hogwarts, we kind of left Ron and Ginny behind. I remember that I always felt like we had abandoned them, especially when we got picked for the Quiddich team. The whole team was filled up. There was no shot for them. Although I admit I had my hopes when the Seeker slot opened up, but Harry got that. At least Ron got to play when Oliver Wood graduated...

Everyone knows now. They all figure I need some time alone. They're right. We had big plans. Graduation in two months...then we take on the world. We'd been working on the idea for ages. Then Harry gave us all that gold from the championship to get started. Our shop was just two months short of reality...then this.

Harry was right. He said that he could do with a few laughs--we all could--and he had a feeling we'd need them before long. I certainly could use a few right about now.

Even if there were any people left who didn't know, they would know that something was wrong with me. I'm not making any jokes. Everyone who knows me knows that I supply the jokes. Actually, the plans and jokes weren't all mine. Just a few--the canary crèmes, the dungbomb in Filch's study, and that mud pie we gave to Percy our first day, the one we told him was chocolate. Yeah...that's it...good times. This probably ought to cheer me up, but it only does that until I remember that the good times are over for good. Then I feel even worse.

The worst part was our birthday. It was two days ago, April seventeenth. He got one day, twenty-four glorious hours, as a legal adult. Why did he have to die?

I remember when I was told for sure. The letter had just arrived telling me everything, but I didn't want to believe it. I'd had this feeling for awhile, but I didn't know for sure. Then Ginny ran past in tears. My biggest fear was that I knew what was going on. I knew for sure when I saw Ron, out by the lake, crying harder even than Ginny. I went out to him--I had to know for absolute certain, one way or the other.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "He's gone, isn't he?"

Ron nodded, too upset to speak. I couldn't stand it. I sat down next to him and put my arm around him. "Ron..."

"What happened?" Ron sobbed. I was so shocked at hearing him speak that I couldn't answer. "Why did he leave? Where was he?"

I didn't answer right away, just stared across the water. Then I replied, "I'll tell you what I know. Dad showed up on our birthday and told us that his department had directed him to get one of us to help on a raid. They went to Malfoy Manor."

Ron looked up in shock. I continued. "He volunteered right away. Apparently, they couldn't find anything at first. Then he noticed that the drawing-room floor was slightly hollow. There was a serious treasure trove of dark potions and poisons. That's when Mr. Malfoy attacked. He killed them all, one at a time."

"Avada Kedavra?" he whispered, saying the hated words that had murdered his best friend's parents.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Worse. There is another Unforgivable Curse that you rarely hear about because it's so rarely used. Muggles heard it and put it in a ridiculous movie to turn pumpkins into carriages and mice into horses and such. Bippety Boppety Boo: the Shooting Curse."

"What does it do?" Ron asked, terrified.

"The same thing as those giant metal wands Muggles carry around and shoot at each other. You know--guns? It sends a little metal tube called a 'bullet' into the people it's placed on. Like I said, not many people know about it. It's truly horrific. It is absolutely the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses." I stared across the water again. "It went right to his heart, but he didn't die right away. He lived long enough to see several others, including Dad, fall wounded. So far, he's the only death."

Ron cried again. I put my arm around him and cried too.

We will never have a joke shop together. We'll never put another dungbomb in Filch's study, or feed Neville another Canary Crème, or sit next to each other at final exams, looking at each other and happily anticipating the end, or send Bludgers careening at Montague's smug face to get the Quaffle and score.

No one will ever see his friendly, almost constant smile again.

My brother is dead, and nothing can ever bring him back.