Shattered Reflection

Author's Notes: Until I say otherwise in a future chapter, non-italicized passages represent the past and italicized passages represent the present. This method was inspired by Margaret Rennie's similar use of it in her "Final Fantasy VI" fanfic, "The Thief's Tale". I wanted to get this up a lot sooner, but as I pieced it together I ran into several subplot and pacing issues, amung other things. Sometimes the scenes just write themselves, other times I have to fight for every line, every word.

Chapter 1: Divided

George took a long swig out of one of the Firewhiskey bottles he'd brought from downstairs and cast a glance around the room - their room. Technically, he now had the room to himself, but couldn't bear to think of it as such given the reason behind it.

The decor was a far cry from what it had been in their youth, mostly because it hadn't been used all that much in recent times. A few years back, there had been Quidditch posters and Gryffindor banners all over the walls, a second bed against the wall to his right, a desk to his left that their father had magically expanded to accommodate two, and a pair of battered trunks at the foot of the beds. Now, save for some cardboard boxes that littered the floor, the bed he was sitting on, and their old mirror dresser, the room was empty. Empty like him.

Even with the Burrow full between his parents and most of his siblings, never in his entire life had he felt so utterly alone. Given the reason was the source of their own grief, the rest of the family thought they understood his situation, but how could they? They had all been born solo, none of them knew what it had been like to spend nearly every waking moment since birth with a twin.

More specifically and importantly, an identical twin who'd known him better than he knew himself. This was mainly because they'd shared a powerful bond that went beyond brotherhood and friendship and connected them in ways most others would not have understood. Though technically separate individuals, they had been two inseperable halves of a greater whole. That is, until two days prior, when it had all gone horribly wrong...

* * * * * *

(Hogwarts Great Hall, two days ago)

In retrospect, it had been a stupid idea to split themselves up, but they'd had no choice. As far as they knew, no one else knew the castle's secret passageways as well as they did. And so, given the amount of ground they had to cover, Kingsley Shacklebolt had appointed Fred and George leaders of two seperate sets of troops. Further divisions within their ranks would be made later as needed.

"Now, Fred, George, you mind yourselves," their father told them, his voice full of concern.

"Don't worry, Dad, we know what we're doing," Fred replied reassuringly. "We won't be alone and we know every secret passage in the castle. We'll be fine."

George nodded despite the growing knot in his stomach and added, "Besides, technically you're in more danger than we are since you'll be on the front lines."

Mr. Weasley heaved a sigh at that reminder. "That may be true, but it's no excuse for you to let your guards down."

"We know, we know. Take care, Dad, and good luck."

"You too, boys."

The three of them hugged briefly before a worried Mrs. Weasley pulled the twins away and into her arms. She had been assigned to the snipers that would be going up to Gryffindor Tower, but due to the large crowd, she had only now been able to make her way over to her husband and middle children. "I don't like this at all... Almost the whole family split across teams, Ron nowhere to be found-"

Fred was unfazed by that as they pulled back. "Ron'll turn up, Mum. Hermione's not here either,-"

"-no doubt they're off having a last pre-battle snog," sniggered George.

"Not that this is the time for that sort of thing, but I hope you're right..."

After some final reassurances, the four Weasleys began to head toward their already-separating groups, but George pulled his beloved twin aside, never taking his eyes off him. They were going to make it through this; they had to. But he couldn't shake a nasty sense of foreboding.

"Well... Good luck, Fred." He had been trying to hide his true feelings behind his usual mischievous grin, but Fred, knowing him as he did, could sense the fear lurking just beneath the surface. Funny how just moments ago they had been telling their parents they would be just fine when they themselves weren't so sure.

"Relax, Georgie, you act like we're never going to see each other again! A few hours from now we'll back here, safe and sound, watching Harry make You-Know-Who shriek like a Mandrake with that Whatzit he's looking for, just you wait!" The resulting mental image made them laugh out loud, breaking the tension.

Percy, who had been assigned to Fred's group, apparently couldn't believe their temporary disregard of the situation's severity. "This is no laughing matter, you two! We must move out at once!"

Initially, he only received an identical pair of obscene gestures for his trouble. But before he could voice his indignation, Fred turned his head and gleefully replied with, "You may be the older brother, Perce, but thanks to Shacklebolt right now we both outrank you."

"We'll leave when we're bloody well ready," added George, equally amused at their newfound power. Percy growled and clenched his fists, unable to think of a reply just then.

"Heard Flitwick left a bit of the Portable Swamp behind in our honor," Fred whispered. "Could toss the prat in there and let him stew for a while. Make a perfect addition to the Victims Gallery, that would: Perce covered in Stinksap." More laughter. The "Victims Gallery" was a photographic collection of some of their better pranks' results, including that of the fireworks incident in their seventh year courtesy of Colin Creevey.

"Definitely, but Mum would never let us hear the end of it once we bothered to get him out." And deep inside, despite everything, George didn't have the heart to leave their least favorite brother vulnerable like that considering the upcoming battle.

It was with that notion in mind that he pulled Fred into a bear hug, which was returned despite the elder twin's Devil-may-care attitude. He could sense that deep down, Fred was just as scared as he was, but better at hiding it on the surface. The only time George could remember seeing true fear in his twin's eyes was after the disasterous decoy operation several months prior, when he lay on the sofa with a gaping hole where his ear used to be. A trip to St. Mungo's had netted him a prosthetic one from a sympathetic halfblood Healer for the sake of identity, but it still wasn't quite the same.

"See you soon, then... Love you, Georgie." The latter was a barely audible whisper in his good ear.

"Love you too, Freddie," George whispered back. He had been about to say it first, but Fred had surprisingly beat him to it.

Exchanges such as this had always been a bit rare, as they hadn't felt a constant need to repeat the undeniable. But now, on the brink of what promised to be one hell of a battle, they needed this last bit of comforting confirmation. Then slowly, somewhat reluctantly, they broke apart and started moving toward their respective squads.

* * * * * *

"You knew it even then, didn't you?" George asked the vacant space to his right. He'd taken to looking over his shoulder now and then, half-expecting Fred to suddenly appear back from the dead and no worse for wear. "That we'd end up like this or the reverse of it. You just didn't want to admit it and confirm my fears, did you? Git. I should've known..."

"Second sign of madness: talking to people that aren't there," the dresser mirror told him.

George gave it a dirty look but quickly turned away before he could spot his reflection. His other new habit was avoiding mirrors because he knew he would see more than himself in them. "Shut it, you. Merlin knows we weren't all that sane to begin with..."

"As confirmed by your arguing with a mirror."

George started to throw his half-empty bottle at the nuisance, but quickly thought better of it and stopped. Pointless arguments aside that would be a waste of good Firewhiskey, and the sound of glass breaking would attract unwanted attention from the rest of the family. Better to stick to the drinking and reminiscing.

* * * * * *

In an attempt to take his mind off of things, George looked around for Katie Bell but didn't see her in either of their groups. Great, one more loved one for him to worry about. At least if she had been under Fred's command, he would have tried to look out for her.

It was bad enough that her father had never been keen on his daughter having relations with a notorious prankster and school dropout. But if something happened to her that night and Mr. Bell found out, there would be Hell to pay. George himself would be furious, obviously, but would likely be blamed for not being there to protect her, like with the necklace incident the October before last. Especially since he'd help persuade her to join the original DA, and therefore the upcoming battle.

Katie had never blamed him for not being around at all when she'd fallen victim to the necklace's curse, as it wasn't his fault she was a year below him and therefore still at school while he worked. It hadn't helped that the Ministry had tried to cover the incident up and had done fairly well, not naming any names. And of course, the Bells had not bothered to try and contact him. While the attack had been mentioned when Ron had been poisoned, he'd simply assumed that she had recovered since she had no longer been in the Hospital Wing. He'd had no idea of her condition's severity until she'd told him herself. True, the continued lack of owl correspondance had been unusual, but he'd chalked it up to her being busy with N.E.W.T. studies and Quidditch.

But her father had used it as the perfect excuse to try and force them apart. "That Weasley boy and his twin are nothing but trouble, and that's the last thing you need after what you've just been through!" he'd said angrily. Under different circumstances, George would've taken that as a compliment. Undeterred, they'd attempted to renew their relationship and keep things on the sly, but with the ever-increasing danger, they had seen very little of each other as of late.

There she was. He saw a flash of long, dirty blonde hair within his mother's group, and breathed a small sigh of relief. She was in good hands. Not too far away, he could hear Fred and Percy arguing over battle tactics. Part of him wanted to march over there and help double-team the latter.

"Oi, George! You ready?" Oliver Wood waved a hand in front of his face, causing him to snap to attention. "We need to get going."

George nodded; they were running out of time before the attack would begin. Some quick introductions were made, as he and Oliver didn't know some of the others, and loose battle plans were laid out. "All right you lot, let's move out. Follow me." With that, they joined the mass of other fighters exiting the Great Hall.

* * * * * *

A short time later, George and Oliver were standing near one of the passages on the fifth floor. The rest had been stationed at the entrances to other key passageways. If they were lucky, the Death Eaters wouldn't get that far, but one never knew. Despite talks of Quidditch and how they had been getting on since leaving Hogwarts, things were starting to get a bit boring.

Suddenly, bursts of light could be seen out the nearby window and a weird, keening scream could be heard in the distance. Midnight had come at last, and the Battle of Hogwarts had begun.