The Other Potter. Book Four.

Willows will be Willows

I quite liked it.

Okay, it was awful, but I’m not letting anyone know it.

I got up and started dancing to it.

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears. 

“YOU GOT RID OF MY MUSIC!” I shouted dramatically as Harry closed it. And I picked up my eating where I left off.

“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee… Maybe you’ve got to get past one of those next, Harry!” 

“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. “You’re going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!” 

“Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George. “They wouldn’t use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing… maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower. Harry.” 

I smiled at George, and he smiled back.

There was something in his smile... But what was it?

“Want a jam tart, Willow?” said Fred.  I looked at the plate quizzically. “It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch -”

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.  “Just my little joke, Neville…” 

I took a jam tart, and so did Hermione. Then she said, “Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?” 

“Yep,” said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “‘Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead helpful… get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.” 

“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.  

“Don’t tell her.” I told Fred, but he ignored me.

“Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?”  

“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly. 

“Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?” said George. “Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?” 

Several people chortled. Hermione didn’t answer. 

“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly. “You’ll put them off their cooking!”  Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary. 

“WHAT THE HELL! WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL!” Someone shouted. Hermione hit me. Ohh, it was me that shouted.

Awkward.

What can I say? I’m a tree.

 “Oh - sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -” 

Within a minute, however, Neville had moulted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

“Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!” 

I went to bed not long after and pulled the curtains shut around me.