A few lovely fandom imagines

Fred Weasley

This was requested by @harrypotternerd_ , I do hope you enjoy it!

This day could not possibly get any wor- no. No, no, no. You were not going to mentally finish that sentence because, with your luck, you would fall off the moving staircases, get bitten by Mrs. Norris, your face would have a charming encounter with Peeves's floating behind, or you would simply get yourself killed. Or worse, expelled.

Still, as you walked through the hallways, deserted at this late hour, you couldn't help but wonder how you had managed to have such a truly horrible day.

It started off just when you woke up, finding out that some of your fellow Ravenclaws found it amusing to steal from you, for the umpteenth time. You weren't their only victim, as they also did this to the sweetest, but also most peculiar girl you had ever met, who was three years younger than you, the wonderful Luna Lovegood. Today, it was your shoes that had vanished, and you were left with only your fluffy pink bunny slippers. You winced at the thought of entering Professor Snape's classroom with them at third period, and hoped he would be too busy picking on the Gryffindors you shared that class with to notice.

Then, at breakfast, you had had an allergic reaction to a waffle. Yes, you discovered your face swelled up if you ate the delicious morning food, which was an absolute tragedy.

After having spent half of first period in the hospital wing, you rushed to Care of Magical Creatures (still in your slippers), and had the misfortune to step in some mysterious (but probably very big) beast's...droppings. And then, one of Professor Hagrid's cursed Blast-ended skrewts decided it wanted to exterminate you, and it burned your legs. By the end of that class, your slippers didn't look so much like fluffy pink bunnies as mutilated creatures of evil.

Herbology was dreadful. All of the plants seemed to have a vendetta against you and decided to form the league of 'Let's kill Y/N today by strangulation".

Potions was no better, it was in fact worse. You plopped in a seat at the back at the class, which was unusual as you usually preferred the front to listen to the teacher, but you didn't want everyone staring at your disheveled form, complete with still swollen head, singed and burned skin, torn up robes, hurricane victim hair, and your ever-unforgettable footwear.

Professor Snape entered, and the class fell silent so that only the sound of his billowing cloak could be heard. He spun around to stare at the class, preparing to start his ritualistic start of the lesson insult round.

"Well, well well..." He said, causing anguish amongst the students, worried about who he would humiliate today. "Miss...Y/L/N."

Yep. You were doomed.

"It seems that Potions class is simply not important enough for you to grace it with an even slightly respectable appearance. Surely, with such care put into it, you must very much desire a T as your final grade, if you present yourself to my classroom looking like the mark's namesake. Twenty points from Ravenclaw." Your classmates threw you murderous glares, and you knew you would be in for it in the common room.

Snape put the instructions for the potion you would have to create on the blackboard and proceeded to breathe down everyone's necks as they worked and to enjoy the silence which he constantly craved.

Silence, which lasted until about fifteen minutes into the lesson, when the doors burst open to reveal two identical red-haired Gryffindors, who looked as if they did not have a single care in the world, with matching smirks on their faces.

Professor Snape walked out into the hallway to talk to them, knowing that they wanted to cause a scene, an uproar, possibly a revolution, or even the second wizarding war, and the Dungeon Bat wanted to avoid them attracting attention.