Princess; George Weasley

eighteen

The bronze, phoenix statue turns, and I rush inside, going ahead of my father. The entire walk has had me overthinking everything. I quickly wipe my sweaty palms off on my pants. My nervous energy seems to take over. Last time I was called to a headmasters office was the worst day of my life, so I have no clue what to expect. Dumbledore is sitting at his desk like he was a few weeks ago when I came to visit. This time, a family of four is sitting across from me.

A blonde girl, with dark roots, and hair in a high ponytail looks over her shoulder. That's when I see her, familiar face. The person I've been yearning for.

Opal.

She quickly backs up her chair and runs towards me. My anxiousness fades as her arms wrap around me. She's crying, and I can't help but start too. I hug her back, and we seem to rock back and forth, warm in each others embrace. This is the most emotion I've felt in a while. Tears stream down my face as I think about how nervous I was, just to be met with the person I could use the most.

"You bitch!" I say, my voice cracking. "You could've told me why you weren't answering my letters."

She lets go of me, cackling. I can't quite comprehend the beautiful, grinning person in front of me. After four months of writing back and forth, her sparkling, green eyes are back in my life. Her light, pink lips are forming a large, animated smile. Her round cheeks are stained with tears. I'm reminded of our petty fights, bets over chocolate frogs, and who could annoy her brother first.

"I read them, I promise," Opal smiles. "I have quite a few questions."

"Oh," I laugh, looking over her shoulder. Her parents are looking to me. Their faces are twisted into concerned smiles. "Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Rayenwood."

"The pleasure is all ours," Mrs. Rayenwood says. She walks towards me with open arms. She smells like vanilla and milk chocolate. She smiles at my father.

"Ivy," he nods.

She turns to Dumbledore before looking back at me. "Your father was in his third year when I graduated from Hogwarts."

I give her a polite smile, ignoring my father's presence.

"I was in Gryffindor," she continues. "I'm sure Auggie here—"

"That's enough, Ivy," Mr. Rayenwood states. He gives me a warm smile from his chair. "I went to Ilvermorny, you know, and I'm surprised by the castle compared to ours."

Auggie walks towards me, and I notice how he's a good three inches taller than me. He always used to be the shortest of our little trio. I give him a tight hug, and emotion washes over me again. I may be closest to Opal, but Auggie has always been my little brother. I'm reminded of our talks about him starting Ilvermorny while we made fresh muffins. He'd complain about his sister starting a year early, and how it wasn't fair. His face has slimmed, and most of his baby fat is gone. His piercing blue eyes have darkened, and his hair is shorter than it's ever been. The scent of fresh bread seems to constantly linger over him.

He speaks in a soft, slow manner. "Good to see you again, Clo."

I chuckle. Clo was a nickname I hated when I first met him. I'd complain about how it sounded nothing like Claudia. Ever since he found out I didn't like it, he's been using it.

"Although this situation is a joyous one..." Dumbledore interrupts. "I have a few more things to discuss with the Rayenwoods. Please, Claudia, wait outside so you can escort these two to Professor Mcgonagall's."

I nod, and leave the office, following my father. My smile can't seem to leave my face. They're here. They're really here. I've been waiting for some sign from Opal, and she's always had a plan. She's constantly thinking ten steps ahead, and is prepared for almost anything.

"They're opening a new location in London."

My fathers voice makes me jump. I quickly look the other way as if I didn't hear him. The portraits in the hallway seems to watch us intently.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, Claudia," he adds.

I try and keep my cool. "Why didn't you then?"

I turn to him, and let out a shaky breath. Maybe this is the one thing keeping me from feeling euphoric forever. Despite my father being a minor set back, he wont ruin my mood.

He shakes his head. "I doubt you would've appreciated it any earlier."

He can't ruin my mood.

I won't let him ruin my mood.

He won't rui—

"Don't you understand, Claudia?" He asks. Frustration builds behind my fathers eyes. "I can't have you running around, constantly up to something."

I scoff. I never participate in Fred and George's pranks. I may laugh at one or two if I see them, but never have I played one myself.

"So what if they make people laugh?" I ask. "You saw how they treat me. Isn't that the most imp—"

"I don't need my daughter associating herself with some trouble-making Weasley's!" My father says, snapping. Pure rage burns behind his eyes. He looks around the hall, making sure all of the doors are shut. "You're going to end up like James Potter, and his little friend that can't keep himself in Azkaban."

I pause. Sirius is the only person I know that's escaped Azkaban. My father doesn't like Sirius after all. Something in my gut changes. If he isn't trying to contact Sirius, why is he talking about him with another ex-deatheater? Is the feeling mutual? I feel nauseous at the thought of a mass murderer not liking my father. James Potter... Potter... Harry Potter. Is this why my father can't seem to stand Harry? I snap out of my questioning state, and am met with my fathers furrowed eyebrows.

"So this is why you don't like them so much?" I say, practically yelling. "Because they remind you of some jerks you went to school with?" I glare at my father as he stands there, defenseless. "Pathetic."

He lowers his voice. "That's not what—"

"Than what is," I snap.

"They were arrogant Gryffindors that went to go marry mudbloods—"

I laugh, sarcastically. "Does blood status even matter anymore?"

My father only keeps proving my point. I guess while he was under the Dark Lord, he only cared about blood status. Is someone who was once a deatheater always a deatheater? Professor Dumbledore's words seem to ring in my ears.

"All symphony's inside of your father had been silenced by the Dark Lord."

Something in his voice changes, and his face is full of guilt. He looks at me, shaking his head. His eyes begin to water, and I take a step back, frightened. The only time I've seen my father tear up was the night my grandmother died. What did I do...

He sighs, and I can almost swear his voice is about to crack. "Lily said the—"

The metal phoenix swings open, and the Rayenwood twins are standing in the doorway. I quickly smile again, trying to compose myself. My father quickly runs into Dumbledore's office after muttering the password under his breath.

"Right this way," I say. I watch as the door turns back around, taking my father with it.