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Ah Georgie Weasley - one of my ALL TIME favourite characters. I've been thinking about his character more, especially with the advent of the info regarding his Patronus. which was supposedly revealed to be a coyote, but he could never cast one again after Fred died as all his happy memories involved the latter. Uhg, the emo. ¬_¬

I keep to book canon 100% in my Re-Fredding fic, Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives , and to post-Deathly Hallows canon where possible, so George's patronus will be a coyote in the TVPD and I will address his inability to produce one. Anyways, I wanted to doodle a picture of post-Deathly Hallows/Twin Vice George, at least how I imagine him. He's just as sharp, just as witty and, to the majority of people, hasn't changed that much. But to those who know him best - e.g. Fred and Luna - the quality of his smile has certainly changed.

Below are some Twin Vice excerpts that I hope illustrate the post Deathly Hallows George Weasley I imagine.

Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives

For the first time in his after-life, Fred knew what it meant to be dead. It was more than a coffin and a hole in the ground. It was more than having no reflection, no substance. It was more than having a conked-out heart. Being dead meant the whole world moved on and past and through you like you weren't there, even though you were, just like his mother's gaze had the first time he re-entered The Burrow after he'd been buried.

Being dead was the way Angelina never fully looked him in the eye when he was telling a joke, and the deep lines on George's face. It was owning no future, no present - only a past. And once that was gone or forgotten he truly would be a ghost, because all ghosts forget. Eventually.

Now he knew, now he understood with a certainty that frightened him, something that George had known all along. Life was for the living, not for the dead.

There was a sudden surge of green flames from the fireplace, followed by a surprised yelp as Percy entered the kitchen, tripped over George's conveniently positioned foot and went from vertical to horizontal in one marvellous geometric sweep. All eyes turned to where the wizard lay sprawled, all legs, arms and joints, on the flagged stone floor.

Fred and George eyed the bucket of cleaning equipment that had followed their brother, unpleasantly.

"What are those, Perce?" asked Fred. "Torture implements?"

"You shouldn't have!" George happily exclaimed.

Primly, Percy pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose and rose to his feet, dusting himself off. "I brought a few cleaning products to help sort this mess out."

"Really, Perce, you shouldn't have."

"Tell me something." Nox stepped forward. "You said earlier that George will try to reverse death." She paused, trying to assemble her thoughts. She thought of the hole death and grief had left in the Plague Doctor, in George, in Luna - even in herself. She had seen firsthand what that grief could do to someone. "Is it such a bad thing? Bringing somebody back to life, I mean," she said quietly. "After all, if you are who you say you are, aren't you breaking some precious rule by being, well…being."

"It is the most amazing talent we have as humans," said Merlin idly, grasping a fleck of snow between a grimy thumb and forefinger, "believing in things that aren't true. That is a special kind of magic. One that most Muggles have lost." He fixed a very sober gaze on her, his yellow wolfish eyes gleaming like two hot coals in their sockets. "That is the underlying bitterness which fuels the Slytherins' hatred. Nobody likes to be forgotten. Not even Her. Especially not Her. Winter is very proud." He stood then, perching perfectly on top of the lamppost with the balance of a great cat. "All things must die eventually, even Death. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Merlin crouched and leapt from the lamppost, his rags fluttering in the drifting snow, landing with a crunch in the snow without the slightest waver.

"There is no such thing as a thing forgotten. Magic remembers. Blood remembers. Trees never forget and the earth is the library of all forgotten treasures." He grinned to himself like a hungry wolf sighting a lost lamb. "Be careful, little fish, little knight. Yours is the kind of curiosity that kills cats."

George rolled his eyes. "That thick git won't ever let up on us. He's had it in for me ever since the Rosewood case."

"I can't imagine why," said Caithion, dripping sarcasm. "His accusations of your suffering insanity are entirely unfounded."

George nodded. "Absolutely. I don't suffer from insanity at all. I enjoy every minute of it."

George Weasley (c) JKR)
Soon to be scrapped as this turned out way to similar to my reference, which was not my intent. I can't get used to this reference thing. Sigh.

Description
Ah Georgie Weasley - one of my ALL TIME favourite characters. I've been thinking about his character more, especially with the advent of the info regarding his Patronus. which was supposedly revealed to be a coyote, but he could never cast one again after Fred died as all his happy memories involved the latter. Uhg, the emo. ¬_¬

I keep to book canon 100% in my Re-Fredding fic, Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives , and to post-Deathly Hallows canon where possible, so George's patronus will be a coyote in the TVPD and I will address his inability to produce one. Anyways, I wanted to doodle a picture of post-Deathly Hallows/Twin Vice George, at least how I imagine him. He's just as sharp, just as witty and, to the majority of people, hasn't changed that much. But to those who know him best - e.g. Fred and Luna - the quality of his smile has certainly changed.

Below are some Twin Vice excerpts that I hope illustrate the post Deathly Hallows George Weasley I imagine.

Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives

For the first time in his after-life, Fred knew what it meant to be dead. It was more than a coffin and a hole in the ground. It was more than having no reflection, no substance. It was more than having a conked-out heart. Being dead meant the whole world moved on and past and through you like you weren't there, even though you were, just like his mother's gaze had the first time he re-entered The Burrow after he'd been buried.

Being dead was the way Angelina never fully looked him in the eye when he was telling a joke, and the deep lines on George's face. It was owning no future, no present - only a past. And once that was gone or forgotten he truly would be a ghost, because all ghosts forget. Eventually.

Now he knew, now he understood with a certainty that frightened him, something that George had known all along. Life was for the living, not for the dead.

There was a sudden surge of green flames from the fireplace, followed by a surprised yelp as Percy entered the kitchen, tripped over George's conveniently positioned foot and went from vertical to horizontal in one marvellous geometric sweep. All eyes turned to where the wizard lay sprawled, all legs, arms and joints, on the flagged stone floor.

Fred and George eyed the bucket of cleaning equipment that had followed their brother, unpleasantly.

"What are those, Perce?" asked Fred. "Torture implements?"

"You shouldn't have!" George happily exclaimed.

Primly, Percy pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose and rose to his feet, dusting himself off. "I brought a few cleaning products to help sort this mess out."

"Really, Perce, you shouldn't have."

"Tell me something." Nox stepped forward. "You said earlier that George will try to reverse death." She paused, trying to assemble her thoughts. She thought of the hole death and grief had left in the Plague Doctor, in George, in Luna - even in herself. She had seen firsthand what that grief could do to someone. "Is it such a bad thing? Bringing somebody back to life, I mean," she said quietly. "After all, if you are who you say you are, aren't you breaking some precious rule by being, well…being."

"It is the most amazing talent we have as humans," said Merlin idly, grasping a fleck of snow between a grimy thumb and forefinger, "believing in things that aren't true. That is a special kind of magic. One that most Muggles have lost." He fixed a very sober gaze on her, his yellow wolfish eyes gleaming like two hot coals in their sockets. "That is the underlying bitterness which fuels the Slytherins' hatred. Nobody likes to be forgotten. Not even Her. Especially not Her. Winter is very proud." He stood then, perching perfectly on top of the lamppost with the balance of a great cat. "All things must die eventually, even Death. Otherwise, what's the point?"

Merlin crouched and leapt from the lamppost, his rags fluttering in the drifting snow, landing with a crunch in the snow without the slightest waver.

"There is no such thing as a thing forgotten. Magic remembers. Blood remembers. Trees never forget and the earth is the library of all forgotten treasures." He grinned to himself like a hungry wolf sighting a lost lamb. "Be careful, little fish, little knight. Yours is the kind of curiosity that kills cats."

George rolled his eyes. "That thick git won't ever let up on us. He's had it in for me ever since the Rosewood case."

"I can't imagine why," said Caithion, dripping sarcasm. "His accusations of your suffering insanity are entirely unfounded."

George nodded. "Absolutely. I don't suffer from insanity at all. I enjoy every minute of it."

George Weasley (c) JKR)
Soon to be scrapped as this turned out way to similar to my reference, which was not my intent. I can't get used to this reference thing. Sigh.