Gelsey (gelsey) wrote,

Fic: Look Long into the Abyss (George Weasley, others, R)


Title: Look Long into the Abyss

Author: gelsey

Rating: R

Summary: Although grass already covered the grave, George could see only the dark abyss of hungry earth that swallowed his soul.

Word Count: 750

Warnings: Violence, character death

Author's notes: This was written for the recent Evil!Weasley contest offered by deatheaterdrabs. The quote below was the prompt for the contest.

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.—Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

George Weasley stared at the grave. The stone was large and ornate, the lettering smooth and perfect.

Frederick Septimus Weasley
April 1, 1978 – May 2, 1998
Beloved Brother and Son

Although grass already covered the grave, George could see only the dark abyss of hungry earth that swallowed his soul.


George attended every trial. He paid strict attention to every word, and if the prosecutors were losing, he spent his free time hunting for evidence to help.

He never smiled. He rarely went home.

He visited his twin every day.


Despite everything George did to help convict Death Eaters and their associates, some, inevitably, were released. He couldn’t stand the thought that those monsters roamed free.

“They’ll hurt someone else! They’ll continue to kill innocents!” he declared, loudly, at the pub. He spent a lot of time there, especially after another was freed. Regulars joined him, as upset as he by everything.

His words received a resounding “Aye!”

“We can’t let this happen! We can’t lose more loved ones!”


“We have to stop them, before they kill again!”

Everyone cheered. “Aye!”

That was the first night they circled an exonerated man and punished him the way he should have been. Not death, but the man never left St Mungos.

It was also the first night George slept well since Fred died.


The growth was slow. In those first years, George had all the support he needed. Aurors looked the other way; his siblings gave quiet support; his friends had vendettas, too.

Years passed. The yawning darkness where his twin had been grew, shadowed like the gap of his missing ear. Free devils still walked, old agendas hidden. Demons who would kill his family; demons who might make them into monsters, too.

Some of his followers dropped into normal lives, vengeance done or forgotten. Others joined, their continued bitterness and yearning for retribution burning on. George led the way, championed bills against pureblood ways, spoke out against the prejudice that stole his brother.

Then came the day when someone died; the day Aurors stopped looking the other way.


“They’ve forgotten what these people did to us! They’ve forgotten the depravity, the deaths and loss! They’ve forgotten the graves, the loved ones lost! The ones who were never found! We can’t let those losses stand! We can’t let those monsters win!”

A cheer. The wave of uplifting sound filled the hole in George’s soul.

“We can’t let them stop us, no matter what!”

So when they started wearing masks and hiding, George didn’t remember Death Eaters once wore masks, too.

George grew busy organizing his people in strikes against purebloods and families of Death Eaters.

He sometimes smiled, when victory came and another monster fell.

He couldn’t risk going home. He had Aurors for relatives now.

He rarely visited Fred’s grave. He considered it to reside in his heart now.


“There he is, Lucifer’s grandson,” George said, pointing to the blond teen in Hogsmeade. Scorpius Malfoy, son of Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. Evil spawn. The justice system never touched them.

The others nodded. According to plan, they drifted out like smoke, cornering the boy near the Shrieking Shack.

“I’ve done nothing!” the boy cried, pinched features showing fear. “I’ve never hurt anyone!”

They circled, closing in, cloaked in red—blood red.

“No!” cried another voice. A familiar teenager barreled boldly between the ranks, red hair flying behind her. “Don’t hurt him!” Lily shouted, interposing herself between George and Scorpius, expression defiant. Her eyes widened when they met George’s, recognizing him. “Please, Uncle George! I love him. He’s good. Don’t hurt him.”

“You’re a traitor, now, too!” George declared, hearing only his heartbeat and his rage that his niece had been corrupted. “Traitor!” His hand shot out, closed around her throat. The boy shouted; others held him back. “Traitors!”

Beneath his hand, she collapsed. Scorpius followed. Traitors all. Vengeance upheld.


From the time Lily died, George had no peace. The Aurors declared war, and eventually Harry Potter found him. It seemed like years, but he was told it was only days.

“You killed my baby, George. Your own blood!”

“Traitor,” was all George said, until Harry dragged him to a familiar graveyard. A new grave loomed, another dark hole. Harry held him, made him watch, as Lily was lowered into the abyss.

George watched, unflinching, until Ginny stood in front of him. He looked into her eyes and didn’t see himself; instead, he saw that familiar abyss, and a monster—him.
Tags: writing

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