The first class of his day is found in the dungeon, the farthest one can possibly get from Gryffindor tower, and George was very, very late.
He threw robes on over his pajamas, not bothering to smooth out the lumps that appeared unnatural compared to his normal physique. George sprinted through corridors and down seven flights of stairs. Where the hell is Fred? His thoughts were racing as fast as he was. I'm going to kill that kid, he skidded to a halt at the Great Hall, but with a sigh, he determined there was no time to dart in for a slice of toast. Starting up again was hard, but once he got going, he was flying. George nearly smiled when he caught sight of the hallway that would lead him to Potions class (nearly). He turned the corner and slammed into the back of someone about a head shorter than him. He jumped up and offered a hand to whom he had knocked over. It was Erin Fisher.
"Watch where you're going, Weasley," She snarled.
"Pity," he muttered. "I had hoped you'd say something else,"
"Pardon?"
George rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that when you knock into them—"
"So you just knock into people all over the place? How noble…." She drawled.
"You always goes to the worst of a phrase, Erin."
"Well, George," she snarled, "You always seem to go about doing your silly little pranks, and Quidditch," He tried to open his mouth to argue, but she continued. "And every once in a while, your mind wanders to beating me at either at Quidditch or with some stupid charm,"
She stood up, ignoring his hand, and brushed herself off. She lifted herself on her toes to reach closer to his eye-level and hissed- with that insufferable smirk plastered to her face- "But I am unbeatable," She turned on her heel and swaggered away, her head held high.
Fred appeared from behind a tapestry as soon as she turned into the classroom.
"Tough luck, mate," Fred said, clapping George on the back.
"Yeah," he sighed.
He grinned and added. "But at least you're on a first name basis now,"
He sniggered and disappeared before George could retaliate. "Bloody bugger," he muttered as he started toward the classroom again.
George entered the classroom and took his usual seat in front of Erin and beside Fred. Erin sat next to a girl named Naomi Young. Young was a half-blood, and her curly black hair often got in the way of the potion, most of the time causing a fire. Snape had been forced to give her and Erin multiple detentions for the same cause; it was a source of great entertainment for the worst class of the day.
Fred and George whispered and laughed behind their cauldron, even as the class fell quiet.
"Weasley," Snape said lazily. "Must I give you a detention before class even starts?"
"That depends, Professor," George piped up, "On which one of us you're talking to. I'm planning on blowing up Lee's cauldron over there, so I suppose you can just give it to me now and let that slide later. If you're talking to Fred though, I'd recommend holding out for a while. He's been real well-behaved lately."
The Gryffindors snorted into their arms and stifled their laughter behind cauldrons and friends, while the Slytherins rolled their eyes. Someone muttered, "And so it begins,"
This made George smile. The troublemaker reputation was fun in this class. It made Slytherins angry and enriched his ego. On the other hand, it also gave him a few more detentions than he would perhaps like. The actual idea of detention he didn't mind- it was the thought that it could be spent doing something so much more worthwhile that had him on edge every now and then.
Snape simply glared at him and turned to the board. "Today you will be making an antidote to the poison on the table here. You have one hour. Begin."
George went up to the table to get a poison sample, and Fred decided to strike up a "conversation" with Erin.
"Oi, Fisher," He hissed. She turned her head sharply to glare at him, then turned her attention back to Naomi Young's hair. "Fisher, I heard you and Flint are having a row,"
She stiffened slightly and placed a rat tail in their cauldron. After looking in the book again, she placed a few more.
"What are they rowing about?" George asked Fred as he set the poison and a few ingredients at their table.
Fred smirked. "She's mad because she wants to play us rather than Hufflepuff."
George raised his eyebrows. "Why? I'd like them to play too, but, why would she?"
"Dunno, that's what I was asking her. They got into a shouting match at the last practice and Flint tried to throw her off the team."
"What did you do Erin?" George leaned over the back of his chair to ask her.
She paused, then said nonchalantly, "Threw a quaffle at his head." They could see the smirk growing on her face.
Naomi laughed at this and said, "Serves him right, the git."
George laughed a little, and Fred grinned widely. "Did you put him in the Hospital Wing? Concussion? Bruise? Bump?"
Her smirk did not leave her face as she said, "Only a headache and a very swollen cheekbone,"
"So, how are you not off of the team?" Naomi asked.
Erin rolled her eyes. "There's no way he'd ever find a chaser as good as me,"
Fred snorted, and she turned quickly to face him. "If I recall, Weasley," She drawled, "You were complaining about the fifty goals I scored in last year's game,"
"23," George muttered.
"Against Hufflepuff," Fred sniffed, but they returned to their respective potions.
As the fumes rose in the classroom when people heated their potions, whispers became rare and barely audible through the hissing of the boiling liquid. George added a unicorn hair, and their potion turned a sickening green. "Fred," he whispered, "did you add a unicorn hair already?"
Fred shook his head, giving the potion a bemused look. "No. Dunno what's going on," He looked down at their books. "Damn," he muttered. "We didn't heat it enough at first, bet you anything."
The two of them stuck their heads over the potion, which was bubbling. Fred stood to look at Erin and Naomi's potion while George frantically flipped through the book for a solution.
"How high were we supposed to heat it?"
"Read the text, Weasley," Naomi muttered. She was chopping her mandrake root with intense concentration to get the correct ratio. "How the bloody hell am I supposed to make ten of these?" She sighed, and frustrated, pushed her wild hair back.
"Naomi, careful," Erin cautioned. She turned around to see Warrington's potion being heated. Naomi was leaning too far back. "Naomi!"
"What?" She turned to face Erin, and George could see her hair was on fire. Fred grabbed a vial of water and threw it at her, soaking her face but successfully putting it out. Naomi groaned as she inspected the ends of her hair. "That's it, I'm forming an I-Hate-Potions club," she muttered, petting her hair.
"Can I join?" Erin muttered, looking at her potion. Some of the water had splashed in it, and it turned a clear blue, and then waves began surge throughout the cauldron.
"Uh oh," Fred muttered.
The potion flew into the air and cascaded down on George, Fred, Naomi, Erin, and Warrington and his partner, who sat behind them. The six of them screamed as the boiling liquid scalded their skin. Snape waved his wand, and the burning sensation stopped, but they could see the effects on the others' skin.
"Hospital Wing," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll deal with your detentions later,"
"Damn," both George and Erin said. They looked at each other, and George grinned at her, but Erin simply smirked.
"You have a bald spot Weasley," she said, and headed out the door. Naomi shrugged at him, and followed her out, Warrington and his partner close behind. Fred and George heard the two start to swear at Naomi the second Snape had moved on. Her biting retorts followed.
When the six of them arrived at the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey tutted them and ushered them all onto a bed. A few potions later, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch, walking in pairs, rather than a group.
I know I said every other week, but I just wrote about her birthday in another chapter, and guess what! It's today! So I thought I'd post. The next time I'm posting is on Sunday, July 7, but then I'm going to be on vacation, and you won't see me for a while. Thanks for dealing with my blabbering. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, flames are not, and compliments are. Thank you for reading!
