The Dreamer's Curse

A Deliberate Meeting

[Chapter 10]

I flitted in and out of the two realms over the course of my Christmas break, listening to Grandma Caroline’s instructions in my own, and then retreating to the gayness of the Burrow in the other. The Burrow was always filled with excitement. Fred and George made sure of that. Over the course of a fortnight, they had been setting different hexes on Percy, much to Mrs Weasley’s dismay. I was barely able to play the violin at all due to the chaos, but my moods didn’t seem to act up. I suppose being among such pleasant fellows did wonders. I was, in fact, down to my last day at the Weasley house. Ginny woke me up early for it, insisting we maximise every waking minute.

Ginny and I had been teasing the gnomes in the garden when Percy let out another yelp – probably the twentieth time in the past two weeks.

“Better Percy than me,” Ron grumbled as he sauntered over.

“They’ve really got to tone it down,” Ginny noted. “Mum isn’t going to take much more of it.”

“At least Mum can still keep them under control,” Ron said, looking rather annoyed. “If not for Mum, I would have had so many bloody spiders creeping in my bed.”

“Spiders I can imagine,” I pursed my lips. “But why would they coat them with blood?”

Ron’s face turned pale. “I-I didn’t mean that kind of bloody, but don’t go giving them any ideas. If those foul gits heard you, who knows what I’ll be waking up to!”

“Oh, Ron, don’t be silly. Jane’s just got a bit of an imagination.”

“Bloody hell, she does!” Ron crossed his arms. “You’d better promise us never to get involved in their pranks. All hell will break lose if you do!”

“I’m not inclined to join them,” I smirked. “Although I won’t dismiss the idea entirely.”

Ron’s face contorted in horror. “You wouldn’t!”

“Come on, Ron, don’t make such a fuss,” Ginny whined before barraging me with thoughts on the latest Wizarding trends. I listened politely as she described the different kinds of Quidditch brooms on the market.

“Of course,” Fred said from behind us, “We could never afford any of the upscale brooms.”

“Yeah,” George winced. “They cost a fortune.”

“Not like you’ll ever let me fly with you!” Ginny complained. “Listen to this, Jane, they absolutely forbid me from joining in, claiming me too young, or the game too rough.”

“That’s hardly fair,” George frowned. “Bludger practice is definitely not the kind we want you to participate in.”

“And I have taught you to fly. Don’t be ungrateful, now,” Fred smirked.

The siblings argued about it all morning, only ceasing when Mrs Weasley told them off at the breakfast table. Time seemed to slow that afternoon, since Fred and George would have their heads clawed off if they pulled another prank. The degree of control Mrs Weasley had on her children was frightening. 

We lolled about the messy garden in an attempt at making the rest of the morning interesting.

“Ho! Look at that!” I called out, after seeing an owl swoop into the kitchen.

“That’ll be our school letters,” Ron jumped up enthusiastically. “I’m finally going to Hogwarts!”

“Your enthusiasm is admirable, Ron,” George yawned. “But there’s more to Hogwarts than just secret passages and magic.”