Fred’s voice exploded in Harry’s ear: “Hold on tight!” It sounded both distant and right against his eardrum, urgent and unshakable. Before he could react, the vortex’s pull exploded, an invisible giant hand yanking all three into the churning black mist. Harry felt his stomach lurch, his grip on Fred’s wrist icy cold—deathly cold, seeping from soul to blood, threatening to freeze his heart.

Darkness thick as ink suffocated them. Wind howled, Fred panted, and Harry’s heart hammered. Flashes burned in his mind: the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred falling, the rose at the Burrow wilting and blooming again, George screaming ancient spells in the rain. Memories stabbed like knives.

“We’re here.” Hermione’s voice cut through the dark like light. Harry opened his eyes to a twisted realm: silver sand shifted like liquid moonlight beneath their feet, glowing runes hung in the air, and at the center floated a huge mirror, its surface boiling like magma, showing ruins, Voldemort’s grin, Fred’s death.

“This is the Mirror of the Thought Sea,” Hermione whispered. “Forged from soul-sand and time-tears, it shows all obsessions and echoes.”

Harry stepped closer. The mirror rippled, and Voldemort’s face emerged, eyes blazing red. “The soul rift… a wonderful key. You’ve made yourself a door to life and death.”

“Expelliarmus!” George shouted, but the spell vanished. The mirror cracked, black mist pouring out as venomous tentacles.

“It’s answering his remnant soul!” Harry gasped. Fred smiled, bright and calm. “George, remember our twin spell? The one from the crazy professor’s notes?”

George’s eyes widened. Fred’s palm glowed dark red, merging with George’s golden spell. The mirror shattered. Harry held up the Resurrection Stone, which unleashed silver light to shield them.

“Twin Fire, Burn Falsehood!” they roared together. Their magic spun into a golden vortex, consuming Voldemort’s screaming image.

But the ground shook. Grey-robed figures appeared—the Keepers of the Veil. “The polluter must be purified!” their leader shouted, sending silver chains.

Hermione yelled: “They’ve been corrupted! Some Keepers work with the Cult of the Immortal!”

Battle erupted. The twins stood back-to-back, twin spells holding the attackers off. Harry saw the cult’s symbol on a keeper’s chest—snake and key, for immortality through the dead.

Fred’s crack spread to his elbow. “I have to seal the rift. Only I can.”

“No! We promised to go back together!” George sobbed.

“I’m the mistake. My life is the cost.” Fred broke free and plunged into the vortex, golden light bursting from him. Runes spread like living chains, swallowing the black mist.

“With twin as bond, separation as bridge!” Fred shouted. The realm shook.

George fell to his knees, crying. “I swear it—we are twins, forever bound!” His blood-light wove with Fred’s gold, sealing the rift. Harry grabbed them and fled via the Stone.

Back in the Hall of Mysteries, only a golden mark remained. “He’s gone,” Hermione whispered.

“No,” Harry said. “This mark is his soul.”

The mark trembled, and a matching rune appeared on George’s palm. “I can feel him,” George said.

Hermione checked her book: The Twin Mark.Fred had embedded his soul in George, a pure guardian spirit, not a Horcrux.

George smiled through tears. “He just called me a sniveling idiot. And said… next prank counts him in.”

A click sounded. A bronze door’s chain broke, black oozing out. The Resurrection Stone showed: The Seventh Door, Forgotten Tribunal.

A robed figure stepped out—Dumbledore’s face, but hollow eyes. “I am the Mirror Spirit. Fred’s sacrifice is only the start. The rift will reopen. The cost? The wizarding world will tremble.” It vanished.

“Did we do wrong?” Hermione asked.

George smiled. “I’d do it again. Fred was worth it.”

Harry clapped his shoulder. “We face it together.”

George’s rune burned. A vision: Fred in a golden field, smiling, mouthing three words.

“Wait for me.”

George closed his eyes, tears falling, and smiled.

“Okay. I’ll wait.”