Daisy's father said, and she herself agreed, that the Weasleys were one peculiar bunch.
They weren't as affluent, sociable, and affable as her other neighbours. They never came to the local kids' birthdays, they never invited the local kids to their...
George was a bit disappointed, Fred more than him, of course. But they understood. Sirius, on the other hand, was smug. Tonks finally whacked him on the back, sick of listening to his groundless boast.
"Bye, then, everyone," Fred announced, but his eyes were glued to Daisy's. He winked.
"See you soon," she said back with a meaningful smile. Then added hastily to avoid any suspicion, "George. Fred."
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
May 10th, 1996
BACK IN HOGWARTS, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Professor Umbridge repeatedly entered her classroom for students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or spout blood from both nostrils.
Shrieking with rage, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from Umbridge-itis. None of the teachers who obviously knew what was going on bothered to help her crack the case, too.
Watching the poor professor's frustration was a good diversion and entertainment for the Golden Trio, who had to devote every free moment they had to studying. O.W.L.s are less than a month to go.
There was also one thing weighing on Harry's mind.
Nearly every night, he made the journey along the Department of Mysteries corridor in his dreams. Yes, Sirius had warned him to continue his Occlumency lessons with Snape, and Hermione kept reverting any conversation to it when Harry least expected it.
"You are trying to block your mind, aren't you?" said Hermione last week, looking beadily at Harry. "You are keeping going with your Occlumency?"
"Of course I am," Harry replied, trying to sound as though her question was insulting. But the truth was, he was so intensely curious about what was hidden in that room full of dusty orbs that he was quite keen for the dreams to continue.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Last night he had passed through the circular room, then the room full of clicking and dancing light, until he found himself again inside that cavernous room full of shelves of dusty glass spheres. He had hurried straight toward row number ninety-seven, turned left, and ran along it... And before he could reach the end of the row, he found himself lying in bed again, gazing up at the canopy of his four poster.
As for Ron, no he wasn't having dream problem of You-Know-Who, but he was having one with his abysmal goalkeeping ability.
Today was the final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, and despite Ron's new optimism (he said to his best friends grimly over breakfast this morning, "I mean, I can't get any worse, can I? Nothing to lose now, is there?"), the Slytherins livened up the start of the match with their singing:
