I saw this coming from the start
After last night's nightmare, I didn't get any more sleep. I sat on my bed for hours, stroking Bruce's fur and trying to process what I had just seen. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn't place the voice. I had heard it before—I was sure of it—but it wouldn't click.
"Not a bad day," Ron remarked as we looked at our schedule for the day. "We're outside all morning—"
"Double Divination," Harry groaned. "If she predicts my death one more time, I'll lose it."
"I just hope there's another empty seat somewhere," I expressed. "I can't stand sitting next to Malfoy." Especially since I still wasn't sure what his change in attitude was about.
"Maybe you three should have taken something useful, like Arithmancy."
"Arithmancy is not useful," Ron retorted. "When am I ever going to use the stuff in there?"
"When are you going to need Divination?"
"I'd like to know when I'm going to die!"
"It's not accurate! Think about it, Ron! If you have..."
Hermione and Ron argued about Arithmancy the entire way to Herbology. Harry and I trailed behind them, amused with their petty discussion.
"Looks like they'll be getting together sooner than we thought," I stated, making sure neither of them could hear me.
"Nah," Harry uttered. "Look at them. It's going to be a few tense years, but then they'll get together."
"Wanna bet on it?"
"You're on."
Herbology was rather unpleasant. We worked on extracting pus from bubotubers, which was a disgusting process. We collected the pus in small containers for Madam Pomfrey, who used it to treat stubborn acne.
Care of Magical Creatures wasn't the greatest, either. We worked with Blast-Ended Skrewts, a deformed-looking creature whose end frequently exploded. We tried to find different foods to feed them, but all they did was explode.
As Harry, Ron, and I mentally prepared ourselves for Divination at lunch, Hermione began eating extremely quickly, nearly choking on her food at least four times.
"Is this your new stand on elf rights?" Ron questioned. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"
"No," Hermione mumbled through a mouthful of sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."
"The library? We don't even have homework yet!" Ron exclaimed.
"Yeah, what do you need to do?" I added.
Without answering our questions, Hermione shoved one last mouthful of food in her mouth and ran off, leaving the three of us confused in our seats.
"She's lost it," Ron declared. "She's officially lost it."
After lunch, the three of us made our way to the North Tower for Divination. I sat with Harry and Ron at their old table, taking Hermione's old seat.
Trelawney walked in, and eyed our table. "My dear, you can't sit there."
"Why not?" I challenged. "You let Hermione sit here last year."
"That was because we had an odd number," she replied. "This year, we have an even number, so you need to sit somewhere else."
"But—"
"Miss Vixens! Your aura is pulsing!" Trelawney cried, rushing towards her table. I grabbed my bag and trudged back to my old table. Not more than five minutes after I sat down, Malfoy joined me.
"Malfoy."
"Atkinson. It sure is better to see you in a more relaxed setting, isn't it?"
"I don't know," I answered. "The dark does wonders for your face."
"Don't lie to yourself," he taunted with a smirk. "We all know you've got it bad for me."
I felt my face heat up. "I do not—"
"Good day," Trelawney greeted, interrupting my refusal. I turned away from Malfoy to face Trelawney, and tried to ignore the fact that I could feel his gaze on me.
"It is time for us to consider the stars," she continued, pointing at a large tapestry decorated with stars and planets. "Today, we will begin with the basics of astrology—zodiac signs."
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil let out excited squeals as I felt my stomach churn. Mum had really liked astrology, and she always talked about how she was such a Sagittarius, whatever the bloody hell that meant.
"Today's going to be a good day," Mum murmured, flipping through the pages of her magazine.
"Says who?" I asked, laying on the couch, rereading a comic book.
"Says my horoscope," she replied, taking a drag out of her cigarette. "Apparently, today I'll experience an adventure."
I chuckled. I never really believed in astrology. Neither did Dad. Whenever Mum talked about it, I didn't always pay attention. "What kind of adventure?"
"We'll just have to wait and see. Oh, yours says that you'll suffer today..."
"What? What does it say?"
"It says that your beautiful mother is going to make you mow the lawn."
I scowled. "Liar."
"Refer to the charts in your books," Trelawney instructed, and I snapped out of my daze. "Find your sign, write down the traits, and discuss with your partners. Only your zodiac sign. No sun, moon, or rising signs yet."
Malfoy slammed his book onto the desk. "Shall we?"
I nodded and pulled my own book out of my bag, trying to remember what page the stupid chart was on. I couldn't focus—not with the lingering thought of Mum in my mind. Over time, the dreams had gotten less and less frequent, and the pain was becoming manageable, but this sudden realization, the sudden reminder of her hurt me in a way that I had started to forget.
"Hello? Atkinson?" Malfoy waved a hand in front of my face. "Did you hear me?"
I blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"I was talking to you for like three minutes. Are you alright?"
"Y-yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "What were you saying?"
"I said that I found my sign. I'm a Gemini." He pointed to the symbol in the book. "Geminis are typically outgoing, adaptable, and intelligent," he read aloud.
"It also says here that they're typically nosy, unreliable, and indecisive," I pointed out. "Not so great if you ask me."
He scoffed. "Which one are you?"
"I don't know," I mumbled as I scanned through the dates. "I—" I froze once I saw Sagittarius printed neatly on the page.
Sagittarians are optimistic, hilarious, spontaneous people. They're honest and fair-minded, and love to talk. They can also be unreliable and naive, and most Sagittarians are easily bored.
I felt tears stinging the corner of my eyes as I remembered my mother. The one year anniversary of her death passed during the Quidditch World Cup, but after the whole Death Eater incident, I had been too busy to think about it. I felt awful—how could I forget about my mother? The woman who raised me and loved me and died for me. And even though it has been a year, I missed her so much. There were times where I wanted to talk to her or write to her, and for a moment, I forgot that I couldn't. I forgot that she was gone. It made think of all the time I had spent with her, and how I had taken it for granted. And sure, maybe I wasn't dreaming of her anymore, but I hadn't truly felt the weight of her absence in a long time. And now that I did, I felt like screaming. I felt like screaming and crying and punching a wall. I wanted to talk about it, I wanted to—
"Are you sure you're okay?" Malfoy asked, interrupting my inner monologue. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He frowned, clearly not believing me. "Are you sure? You went all silent for a moment. You can talk to me if you want."
I stared at him, taking his words in. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Or not, you don't have to—"
"My mum loved astrology," I blurted, not quite sure why I decided to trust him. "She loved reading horoscopes and telling us what our good traits were and what the moon said about us. She loved it."
"Oh—I didn't know." He brushed some of his hair out of his face. "That must be awful."
"And the worst part is—I don't remember what she told me. Dad and I never really cared for astrology, kind of like how she never cared for chess. When she talked about it, I never really paid attention. I mean, I should know my sign, right? If she loved it so much, I should know it."
"It doesn't really work like that," Malfoy said gently. "At least, I don't think it does. You weren't trying to be mean or anything. And to be honest, astrology is kind of a bore."
I let out a weak laugh. "I know. It's just a lot. I haven't really thought about her in a moment, and it all came back." I broke eye contact. "And now look at me. I'm bothering you with my sob story."
Malfoy leaned in. "You're not bothering me. I did ask what was wrong."
I sighed. "I know. Let's, uh—get back to work. I still need to find my zodiac sign."
He cleared his throat. "Right. When's your birthday?"
"March 31."
"March 31, March 31...here it is—Aries." He pointed at the section. "Aries are bold, passionate, ambitious, and blind optimists. They're also reckless, overly competitive, and have a bad temper." He finished reading, turned to face me, and tilted his head. "You know, I don't see it. You aren't really a blind optimist. Or competitive. Or ambitious. Or—"
"Okay, okay, I get it," I interrupted. "I'd say Gemini's pretty spot on for you, though."
"It's all rubbish anyway," he remarked. "I mean, what can a stupid sign tell us about ourselves? It's just a guess. I know a couple of Geminis who couldn't be less outgoing or intelligent."
"Don't let Trelawney hear you say that," I joked dryly.
He let out a snort. "I don't really care. What's she going to do to me? Attack me with tea leaves?"
I laughed. "I wouldn't put it past her."
"Green," he said after a moment of silence. I didn't even have to ask what he meant—I already knew.
∆ ∆ ∆
After a rather destructive Potions class (Snape seemed to have grown more bitter over the break), we headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although I missed Lupin, I was excited to see what he had planned. The four of us hurried to the front of the room, and took out our books, eagerly awaiting the lesson.
Soon, Moody's distinct clunking footsteps were heard, and he entered the room with a neutral expression. "You can put yours books away," he growled. "You won't need them."
Moody wrote his name on the chalkboard and cleared his throat. "Right then. I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that correct?"
Everyone nodded their heads.
"But you're very behind on dealing with curses," he continued. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"
"You aren't staying?" Ron blurted incredulously.
Moody smiled. "You're Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Ron nodded. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. Anyway, I am only staying one year as a special favor to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He let out a dry laugh and clapped his hands together. "Let's get into it. Curses come in many strengths and many forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year—you're not supposed to be old enough to deal with them until then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves. He reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to use an illegal curse on you won't tell you what he's about to do. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender nearly jumped out of her seat. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk.
"I guess his eye can see through wood," I muttered to Hermione, who nodded in agreement.
"So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?" he asked. Several hands rose into the air, including Hermione's and Ron's. I knew one, but I didn't really feel up to talking about it, especially since it had taken my mother's life.
"Weasley."
"My dad told me about one," Ron said slowly. "The Imperius Curse."
"Ah, yes," Moody sighed. "Your father would know about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time." He opened his desk drawer and took out a glass jar with a single spider inside it. Moody put the spider into the palm of his hand and then pointed his wand at it. "Imperio!"
Using his wand, he lifted the spider into the air. He had it fly around the classroom, doing various acrobatic tricks and flips. The class roared with laughter.
"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody grumbled. "Would you like it if I did it to you?"
The laughter died instantly, and we all shifted in our seats uncomfortably as Moody continued to control the spider. For someone who hated the curse, he seemed to be enjoying himself...
"Total control," he mumbled. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."
I felt Ron shudder next to me.
"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," Moody informed. "They claimed that they only did You-Know-Who's bidding because of it. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."
He stopped the spider in the middle of a cartwheel and let it relax for a moment. "The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how—"
"He's going to use the curse on us?" Hermione hissed, turning white. "B-but that's illegal! And there's no way—"
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody shouted, making everyone jump in their seats. "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air, along with nearly half of the class—even Neville's, which was odd because he only ever volunteered in Herbology.
"Yes, Longbottom?"
"There's one—the Cruciatus Curse," Neville said in a small voice. Moody stared intently at Neville, who looked like he was going to faint.
"The Cruciatus Curse," he drawled. "The torture curse. A particularly nasty one." He placed the spider on his desk. "Crucio!"
It was utterly horrific to witness. The spider began to twitch uncontrollably, rocking from side to side. No sound came from the spider, but from the way it was moving, it was obvious that it was in an immense amount of pain. My stomach tensed as Moody continued to torture the spider, causing it to jerk more violently...
"Stop it!" Hermione shrieked. I turned to face her, and noticed that she wasn't looking at Moody. She was looking at Neville, who was practically trembling, his eyes wide open with shock. I looked around the room, and noticed that everyone else looked extremely uncomfortable in their seats.
Moody lowered his wand and looked straight ahead. "Pain. You don't need knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. It was very popular once too."
The spider was still twitching on Moody's desk. A chill swept through the room as we collectively realized what was going to happen next.
"Any others?"
Hermione's hand shook as she raised it into the air. Nobody else did.
"Yes?"
"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered. I sucked in a breath as soon as the words left her mouth.
"Ah, yes. The last and the worst. Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse."
He pointed his wand at the spider. "Avada Kedavra!"
Several people stifled cries as the green light flashed. I tried my hardest not to scream, overwhelmed by the light that I had only seen once before.
"No, please!" she cried. "Pepper, I'm sorry! Pep—"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Pepper?" Hermione shook my arm gently. "Pepper?"
I snapped out of my dazed state. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. I'm fine."
"The Killing Curse isn't nice," Moody carried on. "There's no countercurse for it, there's no blocking it—nothing. In fact, only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."
All eyes shifted to Harry, whose face quickly turned red. He stared determinedly at the chalkboard, refusing to make eye contact with anybody.
"Avada Kedavra's a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter—I'm not here to teach you how to do it."
"But he's here to show it to us?" I murmured under my breath.
"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you?" he asked. "Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and we all jumped again.
"Now those are three curses—Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus—are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against, and that's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing, you need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills and copy this down."
We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the curses. I tried my best to avoid a panic attack, and my notes were completely unintelligible due to my shaking hand. But I didn't want to cause any more attention to myself, so I just stuck it out. Just when I thought I was going to lose it, the class ended.
A burst of talk was heard throughout the classroom. Most people seemed to be in awe of what they had just witnessed—like it had been some sort of movie or show—but it wasn't. I hadn't found it entertaining at all, and neither had Harry or Hermione.
"Hurry up," Hermione hissed.
"Not the library again?" Ron asked.
"No," she quipped, pointing at a side passage. "Neville."
Neville was standing by himself, staring off into space with the same horrified look he had had in class.
"Neville?" Hermione asked gently.
"Oh hello," he replied, his voice much higher and shakier than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm—I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Are you alright?" I inquired. "I know it was a rough lesson, and—"
"Oh yes, I'm fine," he interrupted. "Very interesting dinner—I mean lesson—what's for eating?"
The four of us exchanged startled looks.
"Neville, what—?"
There was a loud clunking noise, and Professor Moody limped towards us.
"It's alright," he told Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea..."
Neville looked even worse at Moody's offer. Before he could say anything, Moody turned to Harry.
"You alright there, Potter?"
"Yes," Harry replied rather defensively.
"And you, Atkinson? I heard about your mother."
"I'm fine," I lied.
He sighed loudly. "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending. Come on, Longbottom. I've got some books that might interest you."
Neville gave us a pleading look, but none of us said anything. He walked away with Moody, and we left the corridor.
"What was that about?" Ron questioned.
"I don't know," Hermione answered.
"Some lesson, though, eh?" Ron remarked. "He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way the spider just died, just snuffed it right there—"
He shut up once he saw the traumatized looks on Harry's and I's faces.
"I miss Lupin," I mumbled.
∆ ∆ ∆
"How the bloody hell are we supposed to do this?" I groaned as Harry, Ron, and I stared at our Divination assignment. After we had learned our zodiac signs, Trelawney had given us an hour-long lecture on the movement of planets, and our homework was to work on our predictions for the coming month. But there were so many different symbols and equations, and even with Harry and Ron's help, I had no idea what I was doing.
"I don't know," Harry sighed. "I haven't got a clue what this is supposed to mean."
"You know," Ron began, "I think we should just wing it."
"That's the smartest thing you've ever said, Ron," I chirped, dipping my quill into some ink.
"Next Monday," he mumbled, "I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter."
I giggled. "On Monday, I will... I will... I will receive startling news."
"I will be in danger of—er—burns," Harry added, scribbling on his parchment.
"Yeah, you will be," Ron cut in. "We're seeing the skrewts on Monday. Okay, on Tuesday, I'll...erm..."
"Lose a treasured possession," Harry finished, looking at a chart in the book. "Because of Mercury."
"Pepper, you'll, uh, experience a traumatic event," Ron declared.
"What kind of event?"
"Um...oh, I know! You'll experience a traumatic event at the hands of someone you hate."
"Works for me." I scrawled it down. "And Harry will... he'll get stabbed in the back by someone he thought was a friend. Because—"
"Venus is in the twelfth house," Harry continued.
"I'll come off worst in a fight—"
"Ron, I was going to put a fight," Harry groaned. "I'll lose a bet."
"Yeah, you'll be betting I'll win my fight," Ron quipped.
"And I'll suffer from a nasty case of... dragon pox," I concluded. We made up every single prediction, each one growing increasingly more tragic. As I tried to think of something I hadn't used, I spotted Fred and George in a corner of the room, whispering intently over a piece of parchment. Curious, I stood up and walked over to them.
"What are you two doing?" I asked, sitting down next to them.
"We're in a bit of a pickle, Pepkins," Fred sighed, rubbing his temples. He and George looked stressed, which was something that I had never seen before.
I frowned. "What happened?"
"Remember our bet with Ludo Bagman?" George asked.
"Yeah, why? Did he not pay you two back?"
"No, he did—"
"But he paid us in leprechaun gold," Fred huffed. "And leprechaun gold—"
"Vanishes," I gasped. "So—"
"So it's gone. The stupid cheat," George grumbled. "He knew. He definitely knew!"
"What are you going to do about it?"
"We're writing him a letter right now," Fred answered. "Can you tell us if this sounds too aggressive?"
"Sure."
"Dear Mr. Bagman," he read aloud, "We would like to inform you that the gold you paid us was fake. We'd like our money, please. How's that?"
"It sounds like you're accusing him. Maybe you should try something... gentler," I suggested.
"You're right," he mumbled. "We've got to be careful about how we ask. Maybe—"
"Shh!" George hissed. "Harry's looking."
Harry was in fact, staring at Fred and George with curiosity. George cleared his throat as he looked back down.
"We should go. Otherwise, we'll raise suspicions."
Fred nodded. "You're right. Oh and Pep—"
"I won't tell anyone. I promise," I vowed.
Both boys grinned. "Thanks, Pepkins. We'll see you later."
"Goodnight!" I called as I walked back to my table.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked nonchalantly.
"Oh nothing," I dismissed. "Just Fred and George being Fred and George."
Harry opened his mouth once again, but he was interrupted by Hermione's arrival. She carried a large piece of parchment in one hand, and a rattling box in the other.
"I've just finished!" she exclaimed happily.
"So have I," Ron added, throwing down his quill.
Hermione put her stuff on the floor and sat down with us. She grabbed Ron's parchment, and read it. "You're not going to have a very good month, are you?"
"At least I'm forewarned," he responded with a yawn.
Hermione let out a giggle. "You seem to be drowning twice."
"Oh am I?" Ron peered over her shoulder. "I'd better change one of them to being trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."
"Don't you think it's too obvious that you're making this up?" Hermione asked. "I mean, Pepper's going to lose her hair and nails? And Harry's going to suffer trials and tribulations?"
"How dare you?" Ron asked in mock outrage. "We've been working like house elves here!"
Hermione raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.
"It's just an expression," Ron added hastily.
I continued to fill out my chart, adding in two near-death experiences and the loss of my left thumb, when Harry asked Hermione what was in her box.
"Funny you should ask," she remarked, lifting it up off the floor. She took the lid off and revealed about fifty multi-colored badges that read S.P.E.W.
"'Spew'?" I questioned, picking up a green badge. "What's spew?"
"Not spew," Hermione huffed impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
"Never heard of it," Ron commented.
"Well, of course you haven't. I've only just started it."
"Yeah? How many members have you got?"
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Well—if you three join—four."
"And do you think we want to walk around wearing badges that say 'spew'?"
I nodded in agreement. "It's not going to be a good look, Hermione."
"S-P-E-W!" she exclaimed hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status—but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."
"That's a wordy manifesto," I mumbled as she pulled out her parchment.
"I've been researching it in the library, and elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."
"Hermione—open your ears." Ron exasperated. "They like being enslaved."
"Our short-terms aims," Hermione continued, ignoring Ron, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."
"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.
"We start by recruiting members. I thought two Sickles to join—that buys a badge—and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. Ron's treasure—your collecting tin is upstairs—Harry's secretary—you should probably write this all down—and Pepper's our social chair—you can plan fundraisers and events!"
The three of us stared at Hermione. According to what Ron said, house elves liked working. And if they liked it, why would we change it? But in a way, she was right, and she had worked hard for this organization... I was about to hand over the money when a tapping sound was heard at the window.
"Hedwig!" Harry cried, letting the bird in. "It's about time!"
"She's got an answer!" Ron shouted excitedly.
"Open it!" I yelped. "Open it!"
"What does it say?" Hermione inquired.
Harry ripped open the letter and read it aloud. "Harry, I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore—they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is. I'll be in touch soon. My best to Pepper, Ron, and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Sirius."
"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "But then that means—"
"He's coming back," I finished. "Sirius is coming back."
Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "Signs? What signs? Does—"
"I shouldn't have told him!" Harry shouted.
"What? Why not?" I asked. "I know him coming back isn't ideal, but—"
"He's putting himself at risk!"
"But he's trying to protect you," I insisted. "He—"
"I'm going to bed," he cut off. "See you in the morning."
"So," I began awkwardly. "What kind of S.P.E.W events should I plan?"
∆ ∆ ∆
"Eternal glory," Ron sighed. "Doesn't that sound brilliant?"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all sat in the Great Hall, watching some of the older students put their names in the Goblet of Fire. I was half-asleep since I had spent the entire night dreaming again. The same dream from the night we came back played over and over again, and I was unable to escape it. I had woken up and fallen asleep at least five times, and every single time I shut my eyes again, the dream was there. And since I didn't have any Dreamless Sleep on hand, I was forced to wait it out, reliving the horror loads of times.
"It would be cool, wouldn't it?" I agreed, shoving the thought of my dream away.
"Better you two than me," Harry replied.
At that moment, the doors swung open, and Fred and George burst in and sat down with us.
"Done it," Fred whispered. "Just taken it."
"Taken what?" I asked.
"An Aging Potion," George replied. "One drop each since we only need to be a few months older."
"It's not going to work," Hermione chimed. Fred and George exchanged amused looks.
"Oh yeah? Why's that Hermione?"
Hermione sighed. "Dumbledore drew this age line himself. There's no way that it could possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion."
"Ah, but you see, that's why it's so brilliant," George countered. "Because it's so pathetically dimwitted." He jumped to his feet. "Ready, Fred?"
"Ready, George!"
Both boys jumped into the circle, and nothing happened. The room burst into cheers again and they put their names into the goblet. Nothing happened, which caused another round of applause. But their glory was short-lived. After a few seconds of celebration, the goblet spit out their names and threw them backwards. They both sat up and I was both shocked and amused to discover that they had sprouted long white beards.
"I guess you were right," I whispered to Hermione, who was giggling uncontrollably next to me.
"I know."
George felt his face and gasped. "You said—"
"No you said—"
They began to wrestle each other on the floor while everyone in the Great Hall crowded around them, eager to see them fight. But after a few seconds of their brawl, the crowd dispersed to make space for Viktor Krum, who held a piece of parchment in his hands. We were all silent as we watched him drop it in. Then, he turned to Hermione and eyed her with interest before turning around and walking out of the Great Hall.
"What was that?" I asked incredulously.
"What was what?"
"Don't be stupid! Viktor Krum just stared at you!"
"He does have eyes—"
"Not like that," I interrupted. "Didn't you see him eyeing you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Pepper," she replied, opening her book. "It was nothing like that."
I didn't say anything else, but I had a feeling that Hermione was wrong.
"I'm going to take Fred and George to the Hospital Wing," I sighed. "I'll see you later."
I walked up to the twins—who were in the corner of the Great Hall—and grabbed their arms.
"Come on. Let's have Madam Pomfrey fix those beards."
"I don't know," Fred effused. "I'm kind of digging it now."
"Yeah, well you look like Dumbledore," I remarked. "And that's not really a good thing."
"But—"
"Just walk."
"So the Aging Potion didn't work," George began. "What else can we do?"
"I dunno. Maybe we could try getting an expert potion from Snape—"
"Whatever you do, just be careful. I don't want to hear that you've sprouted an extra limb or something."
"Don't worry," Fred dismissed as he opened the door to the Hospital Wing. "We'll be careful. See you later, Pepper. Oh, and you should start brainstorming some new pranks. We haven't caused that much mischief yet."
I nodded. "Will do. See you."
"Hi, Madam Pomfrey," George greeted brightly.
She gasped. "Dear Lord, what did you two do this time? Have you no respect for the rules? I swear—"
As Fred and George walked in, Malfoy sauntered out. "What happened to them?"
"Aging Potion gone wrong," I explained. "They tried to get past the Age Line."
He let out a derisive scoff. "Like they'd ever get chosen."
"Fred and George are brilliant," I defended. "We'd be lucky to have either one of them as a champion."
"I wouldn't. Who'd want a blood-traitor as their champion?"
"Of course," I muttered. "Of course. It always comes back to this, doesn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
I felt anger boiling inside of me. Why did he have to be this way? So kind one moment and so cold the other? It wouldn't have bothered me before, but now it irked me. Why did he have to be so indecisive?
"To blood status," I continued. "It always comes back to blood status with you. Why? Why do you have to be this way?"
"It's just the way things are. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that."
"Yeah, well don't forget that you're talking to a Mudblood, you insolent prick," I spat.
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Why do you even care? It's always been like that between us. I'm a Pureblood, you're a—"
"Don't say it."
He stayed silent. "There's nothing that we can change about—"
"Exactly. There's nothing we change about it—nothing I can change about it, yet you mock me for it anyways—"
"I don't—"
"Just go away."
"I hardly think what I said was wrong," he insisted. "It's—"
"God, you are so disappointing," I sighed. "Go away."
His expression shifted to an angry one. "Fine. I wouldn't want to be seen around a Mudblood anyway."
"Go away before I touch you. Wouldn't want the germs settling in, now would we?"
He wrinkled his nose. "No we wouldn't."
As he strode off, I found my mind swirling with emotions. Anger, frustration, loathing, but the most prominent of them all—
Sadness.