Dreaming?

George couldn’t summon the happening to mind. He couldn’t recall falling asleep. Not even how he came to be standing before a mirror he and Fred had only found once. A mirror that had showed exactly what they were then. This time - they were on different sides of it. As it was, Fred bore the same attire as he, and suddenly it was like nothing had changed.

‘Am I?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then how am I talking to you? Have I gone mad?’ asked George.

‘Weren’t we always mad? As hatters, brother mine?’ said Fred.

The mirror did not ripple when he touched it, not like he thought it would. Some hope that dwelled in him had said that maybe if he touched it, he could pass through it, and touch the tips of his fingers to his physical reflection. But it did not, and he could only feel the cold surface of glass.

‘What is this?’

‘They call it the Mirror of Erised. We found it once before, y’remember?’ asked Fred, and George nodded. ‘Well, it shows you your hearts’ desire.’ His voice changed; soft and young like they sounded back in the early days. Suddenly, he was looking at a child version of his twin. ‘I’m sorry I died on you, Georgie.’

‘I miss you,’ whispered George, unphased to find his voice the same child-like state as his twins’. He blinked and Fred was back to his last living age, in damaged plaid and his face frozen in a laugh that had been his last. George would not have forgotten it so easily if not at all.

When he woke, he did so crying.

(written by we-reidentical)