It was wrong.

It was all wrong.

Lupin was dead.

Tonks was dead.

Numerous others were dead; he couldn't be sure, he just saw the covered bodies.

His family was okay.

His family had to be okay, Fred wasn't really dead, it was just a joke. A trick. Any minute now he'd pop up and they'd be a family again, they'd be a family and tease Ron and Percy again because Percy was part of the family again and he couldn't believe he'd thought Fred was actually dead.

He let out a short giggle at that and was startled at how insane he sounded. Hysterical. Percy looked at him, and Percy didn't get the joke yet. No, nobody got the joke yet. Just him and Fred, waiting for it to catch on. Because twins never died –not just one of them. If Fred was actually dead, then he was dead, too, and he couldn't be dead, he'd touched the other people, and ghosts couldn't touch living people. Unless they'd all died. Maybe that was the case, maybe they'd all died and some of them were just… playing a trick.

People were coming up to him, saying 'I'm so very sorry for your loss' and things of that sort, and he didn't understand how stupid they were being. Because Fred wasn't dead. Anyone with half a brain could see that.

Fred was a very good actor, to be able to play dead for as long as he had.

"It's okay Fred, you can wake up now," George said softly, reaching over and touching his brother's face. It was cold. There was a spell that did that, there had to be, something that Fred had been meaning to teach him but never got around to, a spell that made it look and feel like you were dead. It was too bad Fred hadn't taught him before the battle, then they could both be playing the trick. But George would've woken up sooner. Everyone who hadn't gotten the joke was very sad. "Fred?"

It occurred to him that maybe the spell lasted. Maybe Fred couldn't wake up yet. That had to be it.

The rest of the time passed in a blur, and soon the others were readying bodies of the actual dead for burial. Nobody had approached Fred yet; maybe they did get the joke after all.

Or maybe not, because Dad and Percy and Charlie were walking over to get Fred now. George shook his head as they got closer. "No. You can't take him," he said.

"George-"

"He's just playing a joke, you can't bury him, he'd die," George insisted, shaking his head again. "He'd-"

"He's already dead," Percy said, of course it was Percy, Percy the non-believer, Percy the traitor, Percy Percy Percy they'd had so much fun making fun of.

"He's not."

"He is."

They'd taken Fred. They'd taken Fred and now he was alone, he was in an area of Hogwarts he'd never been in before, even though he could've sworn he'd been everywhere during his time here, but this room he didn't remember.

This room was empty, no chairs, no desks, even though it looked like a classroom otherwise. Except for the thing in the corner, the thing that was covered.

He wanted to go see what it was, but he couldn't move. So he sat for a while longer, thinking. The more he thought, the surer he was that Fred was actually dead. The surer he was that Fred was actually dead, the emptier he felt.

He stood up, stumbling over to the thing.

It was a mirror.

A regular mirror would've been bad enough.

But… this one. This one showed them both, not just him.

He would have to stay here.

He would have to stay here forever, because there was no way he'd be able to leave.

They looked so happy in the mirror. So damn happy.

He wasn't happy. But the mirror was. The him in the mirror was happy. That wasn't right. That wasn't right, this mirror wasn't right.

(but it had fred so it was okay)

He woke up in his bed.

It had just been a dream, then?

The entire war? The entire Voldemort coming back? How old was he, if it had all been a dream? Sixteen? Fifteen? Younger?

He was in his childhood bedroom, that was for sure. It had to have been a dream. There was Fred's bed, just over there…

Empty.

But that was okay, he was just… brushing his teeth or something. Yeah. Brushing his teeth.

Everything was going to be okay.

He went into the bathroom. No Fred.

It hadn't been a dream.

The mirror. The mirror needed to go.

He smashed it, ignoring the blood running down his arm, and sunk to the floor, staring at nothing. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. This couldn't be real.

It couldn't.

And there's the end.

Thanks for all of your reviews. :)