Yeah, you know that whole Ron-is-now-a-part-time-owner-of-Weasleys'-Wizard-Wheezes-thing? I haven't gotten around to that. I haven't gotten around to much. Every time I think I'm ready to reface the world, I get terrified. I've never faced it without him.

Everyone says, "C'mon, George, why do you have to be like this? You know he wouldn't want you to be this way!"

And I reply with this: When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Most people see their reflection. I see my dead twin staring back at me.

They haunt me, mirrors. I haven't changed a thing in our room, although I put a blanket on the mirror above my dresser.

Once, I found an old hand mirror in my room. It frightened my for a second, and I looked closely, the only significant distinction between Fred and I, besides a few freckle placements; our eyes.

They were both a deep blue, but Fred's had a few green flecks in them. That's why the girls usually fell for Fred first, for his extraordinary eyes.

I looked at myself in the hand mirror for a long time, before smashing it. Seven years of bad luck. Oh, well. At this rate I won't know the difference.

There was one day I went into the bathroom, and forgot to put a spell over the mirror. My reflection startled me at first, but then I realized I had nothing to be afraid of. It wasn't Fred staring back at me. Hell, it wasn't even me staring back at me. It was a guy with tired eyes with bags and black circles under them. He had laugh lines that seemed to be retiring from underuse. He had a scruffy ginger beard, and unkempt straggly long hair. But I looked more closely, and saw his eyes. It was me.

The sight of myself disgusted me, but I didn't fix it. First of all, I didn't feel the need. I wasn't going anywhere. Second of all, it helped me distinguish myself from Fred. Fred would never let himself look like this. He would never waste away. And he most definitely would not let a girl see him like this.

But I didn't let anyone really see me much nowadays.

"George," His mother said, knocking lightly on his door. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry." I pouted.

"George, please come out!" Molly begged; I could hear her plea through her voice.

"Maybe later."

"Oh, Georgie, we're all so worried-"

"Maybe later." I repeated.

Five minutes later, I heard a rapid pounding on my door.

"I'll be down in five minutes! I promise!" I called.

The door swung open. "I wasn't asking to come in. I was simply warning you." Ron said, and began to come near George on his bed. "Ew, what happened to this place?"

"Nothing, that's what happened. I haven't touched anything. It's just collecting dust and dirty laundry." I said morosely.

"George, what's wrong with you?" Ron blurted.

"What's wrong with me? Gee, I dunno." I said sarcastically.

"You've gotta beard that will soon envy Dumbledore, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, and you smell like the ghoul in the attic." He said bluntly.

"What's the point anymore?" I croaked.

"What's the point? The point is Fred didn't die so you could sit all day and mope, and if he saw you like this he'd probably kill you himself. You need to show Fred that he left this Earth to make our world a better place. And you know how you can do that? By shaving that bush off, cutting your hair, taking a shower, getting some rest, socializing with others, getting out of the house, and cracking some jokes! And if you really want to keep on Fred's legacy, you'd reopen Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. That shop was his pride and joy, and I know he'd feel good knowing that his brothers were passing on disasters, distractions and idiotic diversions to future generations." Ron said.

"I guess you're right." I said fairly.

"If you don't open up that shop, I will. Fred's legacy must go on. And you know who I'll make my business partner? Hermione. Fred would be ashamed, and would give you a rough beating in heaven." Ron smiled.

"Oh dear God." I said. "You wouldn't."

"I would. She'd probably restock the Skiving Snackbox shelves with color changing dental floss. Do you really want that to be the hot ticket item at your joke shop?" Ron asked, eyebrow raised.

"I guess you're right. We'll reopen it soon."

"Soon? George, it's August first. Hogwarts is a month away! We gotta reopen fast, because all the young wizards are going back to school! With Ginny the only Weasley left at Hogwarts, we have to ensure there is another generation of pranksters to walk the halls! We gotta start soon!"

"We'll start tomorrow." I grinned, knowing if I didn't, Fred's ghost would seriously come to haunt me.

"Brilliant. But first, let's trim that weed whacker." Ron smirked, taking out his enchanted razor.