A/N: Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Unfortunately.

Fred Weasley was pensive, as he watched his sister cry. In all of his sixteen years, he had never seen Roxanne cry. He wasn't sure how to help her, she was obviously in pain, just not a physical one. It was an emotional pain.

Her boyfriend, of two years, had just broken up with her. In front of everyone in the Great Hall. Roxanne had quickly ran out of the hall to the corridor she was now on the ground crying on.

"Roxy," Fred whispered as he knelt down on the ground. He made a move to sit next to her, but she pushed him away. He grabbed and hugged her to him.

"Go away," she said, and he could barely make out her words, but she had stopped struggling.

"You're my little sis, I can't go away," he said.

She took a moment to stop crying and glared at him, "You're only two minutes older than I am."

"And those two minutes made me all the smarter." He laughed. Then she did too.

That moment then reminded Fred of something that had happened years ago, when he was about six.

"Forge!" he heard his father calling him by his nickname. "Where are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding," Fred said, as he stepped out from behind a curtain where he had so been hiding in. He quickly wiped at his face, to make sure there weren't any tears visible.

"Aw, don't cry mate!" his dad had said, hugging his son.

"But-but, Grandmum's dead! And it makes mummy so sad, she's been crying for days!" Fred said.

His father shook his head, "Mummy just seems sad because she knows her mother is not in pain anymore. Those are tears of happiness, not sadness." It was true, his grandmother had had dragon pox, and was constantly in pain before she passed away.

"Mummy's not sad?"

"No, she is not."

Fred let go of his dad and frowned, "But I'm sad. I don't ever get to see Grandmum again!" he burst into another set of tears, then felt large hands start prodding him. Fred started laughing.

"Daddy! Stop tickling me! I'm trying to have a moment here!" he said, clutching at his sides.

"No more tears of sadness!" His father said, as he continued tickling his son. Fred started trying to tickle him back, and before they knew it, they both were lying on the ground wrestling with each other. Never mind the fact that they were at a funereal of all places.

"George Weasley! What in Merlin's beard are you doing! It's you mother-in-law's funeral!" Fred heard his aunt's sharp voice behind him. Both his father and Fred stood up as fast as they could.

"Er, hey Ginny. Just cheering up little Forge here," Fred heard his father say, and his father patted him on the back, as if to tell Ginny that she couldn't murder him there because his son would be watching.

"Boys, honestly," Ginny rolled her eyes. She turned around and walked back into the room where the service had been held.

"Why did you tickle me daddy? I was crying and you tickled me!" Fred said, tugging at his father's robes. His father looked down at him with a small smile. Then he turned to his right where a window was, and for a second Fred thought he was looking at his own reflection.

"Someone once did that to me. He used to cheer me up when I was sad, telling me 'Laughter was the best medicine.' He was right," His father quickly looked away from the window, and focused his attention on Fred.

"Who, daddy? Who was it? Was it the same guy who helped you in all your pranks? The one that you always played quidditch with? The one that you used to sneak out with? That one, your best friend?" Fred asked.

George nodded, "Yes, my best friend."

"When will I get to meet him, daddy?"

"Hopefully not until you are very, very, old and have lived a long and happy life," was his father's response.

Of course, Fred didn't know it then, but years later he would be told about his father's twin brother, the person he was named after. He would be told so many more stories with the both of them, that it actually felt like he knew his uncle.

He would begin to notice that his father always seemed happy, except whenever he saw his reflection. But then, he'd also see his father smile, and he'd wonder if it was because he had his twin with him all the time. That it didn't really feel like his best friend, his brother, was gone. Because he was in every mirror, in every story, in every crazy thought or idea he had, and even in his son. Fred Weasley, the first, would never be forgotten. Not to George, anyway.

Fred snapped out of his reverie, and let go of Roxanne. She smiled at him.

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do actually. How'd you do that?" she said.

Fred laughed, "Dad told me something once, something that I'll never forget. 'Laughter is the best medicine.'"

"That sounds very cheesy, but also very like dad," Roxanne said.

Fred stood up, then held a hand out to Roxanne, who took it. For a second she forgot why she had been upset in the first place. She'd been filled with warmth at the thought of her brother, her best friend, making her feel better.

"We should go back to the Great Hall, can't let that idiot know that he upset you," Fred said to her.

Roxanne laughed, "I don't know why I'm such a mess! You'd think that pranksters like us don't ever get their feelings hurt!" She was wiping her eyes. Fred felt angry at her, now, ex-boyfriend. He came up with an idea.

"Hey Roxy," he began, "It would be such a shame if something embarrassing happened to someone we know, wouldn't it?"

His sister smiled her evil smile.

Fred knew his father would be proud.

So would his uncle.