I don't own any of the characters or anything else that is copyrighted and makes lots of money.
With a sigh, he dropped the letter on to the desk and turned to face the window. Since he had heard through official channels that the situation in Britain had been resolved, he had been waiting for this letter. It had taken three weeks. Three weeks of worrying who died – bad news always to longer to write.
His parents had waited until it was obvious: no letter was going to come for him. His little brothers, the twin terrors they were, had managed their first accidental magic at 10 months. He, however, hadn't shown a sign in 11 years and now was the final proof – no Hogwarts letter.
That evening, after Fabian and Gideon had been put to bed, his parents sat him down for 'the talk'. How if he stayed in the Wizarding World they were afraid he'd become bitter about what he couldn't have. How there was so much good in the world and they didn't want him to be blinded by the narrow possibilities they could provide. How they were sending him away.
He excelled at every task set to him and quickly adjust to school. He dropped his British accent in 4 months and learned a perfect Texas drawl in 2 more. Since he could no longer follow in the footsteps on his own father, he would follow his foster father, a retired Air Force colonel. No one would ever know who he had been or he hadn't been good enough. He would be the best -- and he'd learn to fly.
It took him years to forgive them. Oh, he loved them and knew that they loved him, but the forgiveness took so long. It actually took until his first command: the sudden weight of responsibility and the guilt from losing one of his men. He renewed contact. But only Molly, whom he'd never actually met, kept regular correspondence. She'd been born less than a year after he was sent across the pond. Through her warm and feisty letters, he relearned the meaning of family, and of love.
Years went by with her marriage (he imagined his parents reaction to that – eloping with a Weasely of all things!) and pictures followed of the children were swapped across the pond. When the twins were killed, he almost hopped a plane to England, but didn't when she begged him not to because it “just wasn't safe”. He hadn't even known about the war! He still remembered them as those terrible two year olds, not those handsome young men waving from the pictures. He never got to meet the men they had grown into.
Such a surprise when the next generation twins came – on April Fool's no less! Molly and Arthur had only one name picked out – so on the spot she'd decided on George, for him.
Now it's reprise of that first war, though this time only one twin lost and the war finally won. Perhaps it was time to finally meet his namesake; time and command and family had taught him a lot about loss and dealing with it. And he would finally meet the firebrand of a little sister.