The Hidden Pages

By porpierita

A/N: For those of you who read my usual fics, you'll know that I've been writing this fic!

Yuppers, that's right! It's here, the fic where Fred survives. And a little other stuff I added to make the ending a bit more satisfactory. I mean, for me, it wasn't enough. I wrote a fic on Fred's death, now I need to make on where he survives.

A three-shot, and the next two chappies will be up in a while! This fic comes before the Epilogue Nineteen Years Later in Deathly Hallows, but after everything else.

Sorry for the title, couldn't think of anything else. May be a bit cheesy, but hey, it's the story that counts right?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company don't belong to me. JKR owns them. People, if I owned them, I'd be the billionaire, not JKR!

I mean it's on this site. Called fanfiction? Wouldn't be on this site if they were mine!

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exited out of Dumbledore's office, to which the next headmaster would be appointed to stay. Frankly, Harry felt that no other headmaster could've done more to Hogwarts than Dumbledore had. Whether it had been to improve it, change it, or just essentially affected the school, it was impossible.

The man with the crooked nose had won his place in history, even if little people knew the true story of his life. Harry promised himself that if he were to change one thing in the wizarding world, it would be to make sure Dumbledore was remembered as the right man he was, the one who sacrificed everything for the greater good.

Re-entering the Great Hall, the Golden Trio trudged over towards the Weasleys, who were stood, crowded around what was Fred's form on a wheeled bed. All the bodies were being taken out on separate mattresses to be dealt with. The families of the deceased would get to choose whether to cremate, bury, or decide how to finally make the troubled souls rest in peace. Tonks and Lupin were already gone.

As they approached the mourning family, Harry could see Mrs. Weasley was still sobbing hysterically, even with her victory and the death of Bellatrix Lestrange. Crying silently into her mother's shoulder, Ginny's clothes were torn and shredded, where jinxes and hexes had blasted them apart, revealing her pale skin. Harry fought the urge to run over and comfort her, telling her not to waste any more tears than she already had. But he felt like an outsider. That he should not really intrude upon their privacy and their loss.

Mr. Weasley could be seen with tear streaks down his face, where his skin appeared behind the grit and dirt, which concealed everything else. His glasses were fogged up, perched lopsidedly on his nose. Under the dim moonlight emitted from the enchanted ceiling, and the pale light from the floating candles, he looked as old as ever, and so very weary.

Lastly, Harry noticed George, slumped over a chair at his twin's head, staring grimly towards the freckled face that so much resembled his own, minus the tears. His hands were rested on Fred's arms, gripping him loosely as if he had no will left in him. His face miserable, looking even more dead than his twin, whose eyes had been closed, and whose face's laughter had finally died.

Harry could not fathom how much pain the family must be in, let alone George. To have a half of him ripped apart…a segment of his soul. They were the support of each other, the Weasley twins…who were no more. George would have to make the jokes on his own, invent the next merchandise of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on his own, conjure more laughs on his own…though there was no laughter left in them anyways. Even with the defeat and downfall of Voldemort. It was worse, that George had lost an ear, and now had lost a brother. Harry knew that people who had just met the twins would think them alike—the same—with no difference whatsoever. Clones…replicas…of one another. But behind the freckles and the façade of laughter, Harry knew that Fred and George weren't exactly the same. Sure, they shared the love for mischief and fun, but to a certain extent, they were different in some ways.

Fred Weasley was the most exuberant of the pair. His outgoing, daring, behavior made him charge forwards without really thinking. Taking actions, risking everything. More brash, self-confident, and dominant than his twin—which was to be expected of him, for he was the older one of the pair.

George, on the other hand, was the more passive. Instead of dashing forwards without caring like Fred, George was the one who made sure he knew where he was going, and that nothing was going to get in his way. Harry still recalled his hesitant behavior when blackmailing Ludo Bagman.

How could they kill one twin, the more confident one, and leave the sensitive behind, to cry over the brother he would never see laugh again? Even at the end of Voldemort, Riddle still maintained the level of aggression and capability of destroying the Weasleys, the only family Harry had really felt at home with.

And speaking of the Weasleys…

Harry looked around him, searching for Bill, Charlie, and Percy. They were nowhere to be found. Harry expected them to be here somewhere, mourning over the death of Fred. Or perhaps they were helping with the moving of the bodies. Searchers were being sent out to look for any corpses that hadn't been noticed. Voldemort was still trouble, even if he was gone and truly dead.

"Mum," Ron spoke, tearing his gaze away from Fred's calm face. "Where're the others? Like, Charlie, Bill, and Perce?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up, tears still pouring out of her eyes. She patted them with her sleeves. "Oh…I don't know," she looked around worriedly for a moment. "Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley took a quick glance around as well, but did not linger too long. "Don't worry about Bill, I've spoken to him already. He's off to take care of Fleur first, make sure she's alright. And Charlie's with Hagrid, apparently watching the animals and looking after the injured," Mr. Weasley nodded approvingly.

"Where's Percy?" Ron turned his head to peer around the Great Hall. "I haven't seen him since he ran off after Rookwood…" he gulped. Uneasy gazes were cast among them. No need to say more.

Percy had been trying to avenge Fred, Harry knew and remembered, but he also didn't recall seeing him afterwards. He shuddered, not daring to think what had happened to the only-just-rejoined Weasley.

"Oh, I'm sure he's alright," Mrs. Weasley whispered. "He's probably at the Ministry, checking and running over to smooth things over. What with the deaths and Imperiused ones and…you know how he is, always wondering about work."

Ron didn't seem to be reassured. And neither did the others, although Mr. Weasley let out a hollow laugh. "Yes, yes, no need to worry. Everyone knows Perce and his work obsession." He waved a shaky hand as if to dismiss the subject.

Ron and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks.

The atmosphere was tense, all waiting for news of what to do next, and the safety of their friends and family. People were scuttling about, either levitating the injured or carting the bodies instead as a sign of respect. Madam Pomfrey was patching up a few students, and Harry saw many of the DA members hurt, but alive. He didn't dare look anywhere else, incase he saw another pair of eyes stare up at him…blank, expressionless, and glazed over. He couldn't bare to think of who else had died.

"M-Mum…" came George's shaky voice. "Mum, Dad, you've got to come see this…I…"

Harry was glad to have something to do. It helped distract him from all the sadness looming everywhere. He focused his attention back to the Weasleys.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley spun around. "If you don't think we've got enough going on to worry about, what with all the…" her voice trailed off as she stared, wide eyed. "Oh my heavens…" She gaped speechlessly, whilst the others looked inquisitively at her, then followed her gaze.

Gasps surrounded.

Fred's body, which before was so still upon the bed, had started twitching. His hands at first, jerking slightly, then his arms, tendons and muscles flexing and stretching, moving as if he were a puppet on strings. Steam rose up from his pores, wetting his robes slightly. He seemed to be heating up, but shaking and vibrating at the same time. Harry heard Hermione draw a quick intake of breath, as the rest of them stared, transfixed, at Fred's quivering body.

His eyelids fluttered, but did not open. His hair seemed to be having an electric shock sent through each follicle, and it stood up on its end, giving him the appearance of a Lee Jordan without the dreadlocks. Or perhaps like Tonks, minus the pink. They looked gelled up into individual spikes.

Fred's mouth trembled, then open and closed, uttering random sounds, which made no sense. His body shook violently now, moving the bed along with it. Ron gripped it still, for the wheels had started to roll about. Then at last, with a final shudder, Fred's body slumped back, motionless once more.

They stared at each other, eyes wide in shock and horror.

"He's not becoming an Inferi, is he?" Ron choked, starting to freak out.

"Don't be silly," Hermione scowled. Then her eyes sparkled slightly. "…It's…oh, I don't believe it. He's got the symptoms of…but it can't be. It simply can't be!" Hermione was talking to herself, ignoring Ron completely. "Shaking, shuddering, the body's running systematic checks…" she muttered to herself. "Oh goodness, it cannot be!"

And then, all of a sudden, Hermione shoved George roughly aside and launched herself at Fred.

"Fred! Fred!" she exclaimed. Then, to Mrs. Weasley's eternal surprise and horror—started to shake him by his collar. When Fred showed no signs of movement, she grabbed his shoulders, shaking him even harder.

"Hermione!" Ron threw himself at her and dragged the protesting girl away from his brother. "Hermione! He's gone…there's nothing you can do to bring back the dead. Dumbledore's been telling us all along! If they're dead—"

"He—is—not—dead!" she fought Ron all the way. "I know he isn't!" Hermione struggled, itching to get out of Ron's iron grasp on her waist. She clawed at his hands. "Ronald—Weasley—let—me—go!" she snarled.

As if on queue, Fred's eyes fluttered open, staring, his pupils contracting at the enchanted sky above him. They were ghostly, but a glisten of life seemed to appear in them for a second or two. He remained motionless, still staring above.

Everyone froze again. Even Hermione forgot to get out of Ron's hold on her, which had slackened.

Then Mrs. Weasley broke the silence.

"FRED!" she shrieked, running over to him. "Fred! Oh heavens, Fred! You're—!" then she paused, her gaze suddenly turning accusing upon her son. Her tone switched to harsh, anger spilling into her voice.

"FREDERICK WEASLEY!" she screamed, grasping his shoulders just as Hermione had done. But she pulled him up into a sitting position and started to shake him violently, so that his head lolled back and forth. "IF THIS IS ONE OF YOUR JOKES, I SWEAR, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU NOW—!"

"Mum!" George dragged Mrs. Weasley away from her son, whose eyes had started to contract once more, and had flopped down onto the bed again. "Mum! Chill! If you do that, he might really end up dead for real!" George panted.

Mrs. Weasley rounded on him instead.

"GOOD FOR HIM!" she yelled. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then bulged. "WERE YOU IN ON THIS TOO? WHEN WILL YOU EVER LEARN THAT THIS IS NOT SOMETHING TO JOKE ABOUT?" She seemed ready to explode. "ALWAYS COMPLETELY IRRESPON—"

"—Mum…?" George's voice croaked out. Except that it wasn't George who spoke, but Fred. He had sat up groggily. No one had noticed, too busy staring at Mrs. Weasley and her previous outburst. "Mum? I…urgh…" Fred slumped back onto his pillow, rubbing his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley stood still, as if the shock of it was overwhelming. The silence was deafening, and someone could've sliced through the tension with a knife. Harry stared at Fred, who had removed his hands from his eyes, staring quizzically at all of them.

"Fred!" his mother squealed, and hurled over to embrace her son in a suffocating hug, sobbing endlessly. "Oh Frederick…oh…what would have happened if you died? I couldn't bare it a second time…"

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, 'a second time'; all he knew was that Fred was not dead. Fred Weasley was not dead.

But how could it be?

Dumbledore always said you couldn't bring someone back from the dead…I would've brought Sirius back…is this one of his lies again? Harry felt the rage eat him up inside. Once more, this was another of Dumbledore's fibs…Dumbledore's lies. Twisted, knotted, in a web of deceit.

He watched as the Weasleys gathered into a group hug, with a bemused Fred, still apparently confused of what had happened to him. He felt the anger melt away momentarily. The sight of all of them happy again, especially Ginny, took his breath away.

"But you weren't breathing!" Ginny sobbed into her brother's shoulder. "You were completely still…no heartbeat either!"

"How come you were brought back, mate?" George cried. "How could you trick me, of all people?"

Stood aside, Hermione was the only one who was silent and smiling. Once all of them had stopped the hugging (Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were wiping their eyes) and began to grin clumsily, Hermione eventually spoke.

"Don't you see?" she said quietly, once the sobs had subsided. "He was never dead…it was…the Draught of the Living Death." She turned to Harry. "Remember?"

And suddenly, Harry was brought back with the memory of his first Potions lesson with the now-deceased Snape. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death…

"Of course!" He smacked himself with his hand, hitting his scar, which hurt no more. "Snape mentioned it in our first Potions class!"

Hermione's eyes gleamed. "Yes. And we made it with Slughorn last year. I recognized the symptoms immediately, a person who has had the Draught of the Living Death bestowed upon them! Of course, I read further about it in our First Year, for Snape had mentioned it…stuff we didn't even cover in the sixth-year N.E.W.T. Potions class!"

Hermione babbled so quickly, that the others stared at her, bewildered. Only Harry seemed to understand.

She turned to Fred. "Who gave you that Draught? And why didn't you tell us?"

Fred still looked confused. "Well…I don't know…I didn't drink it on purpose…I didn't drink anything really, before the battle. Only pumpkin juice from the house elves, and a glass of water beforehand…" he ticked them off with his fingers. "Aw yeah, some of the new products' antidotes from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The new, unreleased, Stomach Soreness in fact. And some sherry from Trelawney, after that. Well, she said it was sherry, but it tasted and looked like water…trying to trick me, that old fraud."

Harry scrunched up his nose. Why in Merlin's name would Fred agree to drink Professor Trelawney's sherry anyways? Probably for a joke. Harry shook his head silently, sighing. He lifted his head up, to see Hermione frowning.

Fred put on a high shaky voice, rasping, "The Inner Eye tells me that you, with red hair and a weasel linked to your name, must be born, somewhere at Christmas, correct?" he looked incredulously at George. "God, Christmas? Erm, try Aprils Fool's Day, you old hag. And what's it got to do with a weasel? Why didn't she say…reindeer or something?" His twin laughed heartily.

"What?" Ron asked Hermione, the glee obvious in his voice. "Why are you still stressed, when Fred is alive?" Then Ron frowned too. He placed a hand on Hermione's arm. "Hermione? Er…Hermione? Earth to Hermione…?"

The joy was gone, his expression replaced with concern. Ron waved a hand in front of Hermione's face. She snapped back to reality.

"Ron, it can't be the Draught of the Living Death. I mean, it reacts instantly, how could he have drank it just as the wall exploded? The Draught can't prescribe when a person will fall asleep. It wouldn't work. It's immediate…" she trailed off, the creases in her forehead deepening. "Unless…unless it reacted with something else." Hermione scratched her chin thoughtfully, gazing far away, her eyes not really seeing. Then she focused on them again. "I'm thinking…that well, it mixed with something. To create this. It mixed with…"

She was mumbling to herself again. Even Harry didn't really understand her this time. He exchanged glances with Ron, who shrugged back.

"The antidote the twins created for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They reacted together. It wasn't the pumpkin juice, for it's too common. That scenario could've already happened. Previous takers of the Draught, drinking pumpkin juice beforehand, and not falling asleep. No, it would've been noticed. Water's a neutralizer, and common as well, so that wouldn't work."

"What?" Ron said. "Lemme get this straight. So one of the antidotes the twins created for their jokes and the Draught mixed together, thus causing some effect for the drinker to fall asleep instead when something exploded on them, and not die?"

Hermione nodded. "Basically, yes. It couldn't've protected them from jinxes and curses too, for Fred or Percy would've noticed in the Battle. So I think, just for explosions…" her frown deepened. "But who gave him the Draught in the first place?"

Ron looked at Harry inquisitely, but Harry just gave a look that said What mattered? Fred was alive. Who cares what had happened?

They turned back to Hermione, who was still muttering.

"Draught of the Living Death…Draught of the Living Death…potion ingredients includes valerian roots…sophorus beans…releases blue steam…halfway stage equals blackcurrant colour…light lilac…what happens after that? Oh yes, then it turns clear as water…clear as water… clear as water!" she spun around. "That's it! Guys! Professor Trelawney gave Fred the Draught of the Living Death!"

Hermione's eyes were bright, and she stared at Fred and George, who were giggling at some joke. No one was listening to her, except for Harry and Ron. The rest of them were still chatting happily at Fred's lucky escape.

Ron looked skeptical. "Yeah, but why the hell did she give it to him? She wouldn't know the reason, let alone how to brew the potion."

"Hm…she could've gotten it from Snape…he's the Potions Master…"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What, just stroll in and ask for it? 'Yo, Prof. Snapey, I need a bottle of the Draught of the Living Death. Care to share?' I doubt Snape would give it. He's headmaster too, remember? And Slughorn's Potions guy now."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about 'immature git'. She sighed. "Right, so all we know now, is that Fred drank the antidote to the Stomach Sores, then he drank the Draught—supposedly from Trelawney—and they reacted to stop him from dying and made him fall asleep like the usual Draught of the Living Death when the wall exploded." She stared at them. "You know what's easiest to do right now: Go and ask Trelawney."

Ron chuckled. "Right…go and ask Trelawney."

"I don't see you having a better idea, Weasley," Hermione snapped at him. Ron widened his eyes, but clamped his mouth shut.

"Erm…guys?" Harry said. "Er…I'll go and ask, shall I? You can stay here, I need to go get something upstairs anyway…"

They didn't reply, so Harry set off out of the Great Hall. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he nearly ran into a befuddled Percy, hurrying in to meet his family. Relief washed over Harry, but he didn't pay attention to him yet. He had other things to get to.

Harry continued his way to his old Divination classroom. In reality, he didn't need to retrieve anything. He didn't even have his suitcase with him here at Hogwarts. He just wanted to get away from the two of them bickering. But now that he thought of it…with him gone, what would they get up to? More snogging? He would be cast like an outsider from them…or maybe he wouldn't. They were his friends, and they wouldn't just ignore him forever. He just had to accept that, like how Ron had accepted him and Ginny.

With that in mind, Harry trudged up towards Trelawney's classroom.

A/N: Phew! Long chappie, this one. The next two are like, half of it I reckon.

Will update in a few!

Toodles for now XD