sapphire || fred weasley

seventy-eight

Triggering and mature content, viewer discretion advised.

November, 1994

Beatrice had always loved Charms class.

From her very first class to Professor Flitwick, she fell in love with the subject. She knew that in another life, in one that she had patience and possibly tolerated children, she would have been a fantastic Charms professor.

But not in this life.

She was good at making wands. And she loved it.

And she also knew that without a wand, only a few witches and wizards would be able to competently perform magic.

The wand needed the wizard as much as the wizard needed the wand.

Beatrice loved the fact that she was the secret behind the wand. Metaphorically speaking.

She remembered every single wand she made and remembered the person who bought it, even if she still wasn't the one selling them. She knew that several of her classmates owned wands made by her, and they had no knowledge of it.

The biggest example being none other than Fred and George Weasley.

She didn't really mind George. But she loathed Fred and never failed to remind him every time he sat in front of her for tutoring hours.

Beatrice knew that of their year, she was within the top marks. She may not have been number one, that place was definitely taken by possible a quiet Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but she was smart.

That is something that she loved to rub in Fred's face.

So after quickly finished her coursework, she sat on her designated seat in the Charms' classroom and twirled spun her wand with her eyes on Fred Weasley, who was evidently struggling with the written part of the in class assignment given.

Was Beatrice petty? Absolute-fucking-lately.

It drove Fred mad. She drove him mad.

Because he wasn't stupid, he was incredibly smart as a matter of fact.

But he simply wasn't interested in having an academic career.

And therefore, even if he understood everything and had no problem whatsoever doing it, McGonagall had thought it best for him to start weekly tutoring sessions with Beatrice halfway through their fifth year.

"Excuse me Filius," McGonagall came inside the classroom where the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were working. "May I borrow Miss Nott?"

"Of course Minerva, no problem at all since she already finished her work," Professor Flitwick stated.

"Ohhh," taunting came from the Gryffindor boys, Fred being the main lead of course.

"Am I in trouble?" Beatrice asked as she silently followed Professor McGonagall through the empty hallways.

"Is there something you should be in trouble for Miss Nott?" McGonagall raised her brow suspiciously at her.

"I guess we'll never know," Beatrice smirked and from the corner of her eyes, could the see the faint mischief glint in the transfiguration master's eye.

"Here we are," McGonagall opened the door to the chamber behind the Great Hall where the four Triwizard Champions stood, alongside that heinous woman Rita Skeeter that drove Beatrice insane.