Harry Potters Twin Book One

Nicolas Flamel

“Don't talk to me for a moment,” Ron said to us when we sat down. “I need to concen-”

“Snapes refereeing the Quidditch match,” I said, ignoring his comment. He took chess much too seriously; as if it would save our lives someday.

“Don't play,” Ron's blue eyes widened automatically.

“Look, I know you three are obsessed with the thought that Snape it trying to kill us but if could have been the wind in the game-” I began, but Harry cut me off, frustrated that I still didn't fully believe them.

“This is why I didn't want to tell you anything in the first place,” Harry said angrily, “you always disagree. Do you remember when Snape called you a know-it-all.”

My teeth clenched. Of course I remembered how the Potions teacher publicly ridiculed me. My eyes turned red at Harry's reminder, and I had to glance down so he wouldn't see. At the back of my anger-filled mind, I realized that this was the very first time that I'd turned red because of something Harry did. Before I could give in to the dangerous power that begged me to hurt my brother for what he said, I grabbed my bad and stormed out of the Common Room and towards the library.

The library had become my safe haven ever since Hogwarts. It was so easy to fall in love with books; they were easy friends to have, even though they never actually spoke. I calmed myself by rereading Hogwarts: A History, soothing in the familiarity of it.

I needed to get a grip on my magic. Something seriously wrong could happen, and I could end up injuring someone I loved. The magic in me churned happily at the thought, but I felt sickened. I needed help with this, but I didn't want to ask anyone. Harry would be furious at me for keeping it a secret for so long, and Hermione would be too interested on how it worked, and would have told me that I controlled my magic, and not the other way around.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the magic would one day take over.

For the first time, I wondered if being a witch was a good thing.

A few hours had passed, and I sighed in resignation when I realized that it was time for my detention with Quirrell. Hoping that he at least took a shower for once, I checked out Hogwarts: A History and made my way to his room.

He wasn't alone when I got there. I couldn't see him, but I heard his non-stuttering voice as he spoke to someone.

“Dumbledore would be at the match, My Lord,” Quirrell said nervously, but he didn't fumble with his words like he usually did. “I can not harm the twins there.”

Any chance he's talking about the Weasley twins? I thought, but knew that he wasn't. It made no difference, both were terrible.

“You failed last time you tried to kill them, Quirrell,” a high, cold voice hissed, sending shivers up my spine. The voice didn't sound like anything I'd heard before – it sounded evil.

“I am sorry, My Lord,” Quirrell apologized shakily. “I-I have failed you. It won't happen again.”