The world had narrowed to a single, impossible moment.

George couldn't hear the battle properly anymore. The crashing spells, the shouting, the chaos shaking the castle apart—all of it felt distant, muffled beneath the ringing in his ears. He remained where he'd fallen, staring at Fred's face as though waiting for the punchline.

But nothing happened.

His hands trembled as he reached out, grief striking harder than any curse ever could. Somewhere nearby, movement caught his attention. George lifted his head, eyes red and unfocused, finding them through the haze of smoke and ruin.

For a moment, he simply looked at them.

Then, in a voice barely recognizable as his own, he asked, "What am I supposed to do now?"