Bounty Hunters: The Tale of Two Wizards and an Alchemist
Bauntihantā: Ni u~izādo no monogatari to no renkinjutsu-shi

Prologue
Of Truth and Rebirth

"Where am I?" was the first question that came to Fred Weasley's mind as he found himself standing in front of a large black gate, somewhere in the immense white space that stretched for eternity on either side of him. A shimmer of red caught his attention.

Near the base of the gate lay his image, slowly trickling into exsistance. Beside it sat a young blond boy with waist length hair. He looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in months.

"Welcome," a bored voice said. Fred spun around to face a rather young looking boy, sitting in a black chair.

"Who are you?" Fred demanded. The boy shrugged.

"The Gate, God, the World, One, All, You." he grinned a grin that sent shivers down Fred's spine. "Call me Truth for now."

"Truth?" he asked, warily.

"He means it." Fred spun back around to see the blond kid smiling at him gently. "He's pretty much the thing you see when you die." The red head frowned.

"So I'm dead?" The blond boy shrugged so he turned back to Truth.

"You died from being hit in the head with a piece of rubble." the 'boy' deadpanned. "Died with a smile on your face." Fred blinked.

"What about George?"

"Ah, he's all well and fine considering he only has one ear and is rather suicidal at the moment." The Weasley boy paled.

"He's going to kill himself?" he asked, hoarsely. Truth shrugged.

"Probably, if I don't send you back quickly. So let's just get this over with. I want to get back to maiming and torturing people." Truth leaned forward, resting his forearms on his bare thighs. Fred just noticed that they were all naked.

"What happened to my clothes?" he was positive he had at least underwear on when the wall exploded.

"You're dead, they don't matter." Truth locked eyes with him. "Now, do you want to live again or what?"

George slumped against the wall of his and - no, it was just his bedroom now. Across the room, Fred's body lay beneath a sheet.

It had been two days since the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort at the hands of Harry Potter. Said hero was currently downstairs moping over the loss of his family/friends. The after effects of the war took a great toll on the families who were in it, but progress was being made early after the end.

However, there were still jobs to be taken care of. Deatheaters had to be captured, Hogwarts had to be rebuilt, and Kinglsey Shacklebolt had to oversee the employment of compitent and trustworthy people within the Ministry who could help sort out the mess the magical dictator had left behind.

In all, George Weasley could just not cope with anything else drastic happening in his life at the moment (loosing hi twin was enough), which was why he refused to believe there was anything abnormal with his brother's glowing body. After all, this was the wizarding world. Stranger things had happened. Like that time someone switched McGonagall's pumpkin juice with a Babbling Beverage. He had absolutely no idea who did it. None. Not a clue. (They did it.)

He blinked and returned his attention to the still glowing form beneath the white linens. He rose unsteadily from his patch of floor and stumbled over to the bed. He reached out a hand slowly, cautiously, as if he were reaching to pet a werewolf's head.

His hand never made it to the sheet, stopped by an explosion of blue light.