Dear Fred, From Ginny

Freddy,


I'm still in denial. I still think you're going to leap out at me from behind the sofa to scare me, like you did when we were little, or come hurtling out of your room with George, thick, rotten-egg smelling smoke pouring from the door in your wake, you two cackling away as mum berated you and prayed for the day the school term started again.


But George doesn't laugh any more. The corners of his mouth twitch when Mum scolds Ron, but there's no light in his eyes.


He doesn't sleep in your room anymore. He's supposed to sleep in Percy's old room, but whenever I come downstairs in the middle of the night he's there, on the couch, staring at the wall, shadows bruising his eyes, and his cheeks glistening.


I'd never seen him cry before the day you... You died. He's not my Georgy anymore.


The house is a mess. The garden gnomes seem to be setting up a gnome city in the garden. Mum keeps on burning the food. We played quidditch the day before your funeral to distract ourselves. I cut myself on the horrible nail in the broom shed again. Remember when I tried to use your broom when I was ten, and I caught myself on that? It hurt so much and I was convinced I was going to die, there was so much blood, but I couldn't tell Mum because I wasn't supposed to go in the broom shed. You and George found me and you tore off the edge of your robes, even though they were your best pair, and you wrapped it around the cut and told your best jokes to make me laugh. And then you let me wipe my nose on your sleeve and you took my back to the house.


See, this is why I need you! To let my wipe my snotty nose on your robes and make me laugh. I need you two to shut Ron up about Harry and I, to stop Mum's sobs leaking through the wall every night, and to get Dad talking about all that crazy muggle stuff again. I need you to get Percy to stop tearing all his hair out in anguish, to get Charlie to stop pacing the yard looking distant, and to get Fleur back to her normal infuriating self, instead of the mopey shade of her former self she's become. Congratulations, big brother, you made the lustrous veela flower wilt.


But most of all I just want you to tell me you're okay, somehow. Send me a flaming toilet seat or something, I don't care. Or just come back, Freddy. Make us all whole again. I need my big brother.


More love than you could ever imagine,
Ginny


Read the first letter from George here.
Read the second letter from George here.
Read the letter from Ron here.
Read the letter from Percy here.


Please contact me in some way if you wish to use this letter for other uses, and please attribute it to me, otherwise it could be considered plagiarism of my work and that will not be tolerated. Thanks, guys.