Seeing Double

Chapter 1: First Memory

A/N: Okay so I might end up changing the prologue later but for now it'll stay the same. Also to avoid confusion the rest of this story will be in first person. Enjoy and feel free to comment if you see a mistake.

Fred's POV

My first memory was when George and me had been invited over to the birthday party of my first best friend. Its been such a long time since then that I can't actually remember his name. Doesn't matter now I suppose.

I only remember fragments of the party but one thing stood out very clearly. We'd been talking about our favorite movies and somehow gotten onto the subject of magic. One of the boys had (stupidly) said that magic wasn't real.

I remember saying something along the lines of "get stuffed asshat." I didn't know what the word meant at the time, only that dad said it when he got really angry at someone. My mum was horrified, though George seemed to think it was great when I recounted the tale.

Anyway this little boy attacked me; I'm pretty sure he didn't know what it meant either but he could tell it wasn't polite.

We fought until my friend's parents came to break us apart. As far as fights go it wasn't very serious because neither of us knew how to throw a decent punch.

In the end the only mildly serious injury I got from the fight was a black eye. The other kid had a bruise here or there but it seemed mostly superficial.

At the time it had felt as if I'd been up against a thousand warriors. Still I had to stay strong in front of George who was crying softly behind me. He wasn't used to seeing fights yet so his tears were rather predictable. I gathered him into my arms, rocking him back and forth, back and forth. I mused up his hair and rubbed steady circles on his back, just like Mum did whenever I was upset.

George cried on my shoulder for so long that my arms were beginning to ache. None the less I tried to endure how uncomfortable I was.

When mum arrived I finally let my emotions out through my tears.

I don't remember much else about that time. But it would forever be cemented in my mind as the first I remember standing up for what I believe in.

0-o-0-o-0

George's POV

My first memory was forever burned into my memory. The first time that I could remember feeling terror flood through my veins.

It had been in the evening when it happened. Fred had already gone to bed but I had found myself unable to sleep. I'd just gone to get a drink of water when I heard the whooshing sound of the fireplace.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up and my limbs trembled in the very human fear of the unknown. I could hear footsteps approaching the kitchen and I quickly ducked into the tiny space under the sink. I closed the door and pulled my knees up to my chest, hoping desperately that I wouldn't be found.

The floorboards creaked and I held my breath when they stopped outside the sink.

I held my breath.

The tap started running. Whoever it was had only wanted a drink. I thought that was a little strange but perhaps whichever one of You Know Who's servants had come really needed the drink. After all in these times who else could it possibly be?

"Dumbledore?" My father's voice rang through the still night air. The name made me feel calm and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't hurt me. After all Dumbledore taught magical children like me and Fred. He would never lay a finger on us.

I was about to reveal myself when another thought struck me. My curfew had been hours ago; I let my outstretched hand gently fall into my lap. I was determined not to get caught out of bed even if I did have to stay in my uncomfortable hiding place for a little while longer.

I tuned into the conversation as there was nothing better to do.

"I had a drink Arthur. Hope you don't mind." Dumbledore spoke cheerfully as if it had been an ordinary day. Either my father had given him a nonverbal response or Dumbledore hadn't waited to find out because he continued on. "I doubt that the news had reached you yet and I wanted to tell you myself before the tale gets too out of hand."

There was the sound of scraping chairs. At this point I was debating whether I'd end up sleeping under the sink. My eyes were heavy and I had to stick my fist in my mouth to prevent my yawn.

"What's happened Albus?" I heard my father say.

Dumbledore sounded weary. "Lily and James are dead Arthur. Voldermort got to them last night."

Shivers ran through me at that name. No one said his name anymore.

My father sounded like he was crying when he posed the next question. "And Harry..?"

"Safe and sound Arthur. The boy's at his Aunt and Uncle's house."

My father sounded bewildered. "How..? Wasn't he Voldermort's intended target?"

"How indeed Arthur. Voldermort tried to kill him but not only found himself unable, Voldermort is gone Arthur. At least for now."

"I don't understand."

"No one does. But for some reason when Voldermort tried to kill Harry the curse rebounded upon himself."

"Wait so is Voldermort finally dead?" My father's voice was filled with both hope and sorrow. A combination of emotions which I had been unable to comprehend at the time.

"Not dead Arthur but as good as for the moment. I have no doubt in my mind that he will return one day but for now we should enjoy this peace."

The word was foreign to me. It was only mentioned in wishes and bed time stories and yet despite my lack of experience I smiled as an unknown weight lifted off my chest.

I didn't hear the rest of what my father and Dumbledore said until Dumbledore was preparing to leave.

"Arthur I think it's more than past George's bedtime don't you?" With those parting words Dumbledore left.

"Come out George." I came out, far too tired to disobey. My father didn't yell. Instead he pulled me into his arms and lifted me up into the air. His tears fell onto my head and to this day I still don't know whether they were tears of joy or sadness.