Chapter Two
A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed that last chapter. Please REVIEW to let me know what I should work on! Plus, I'm going to try and update at least once a week. Thanks!
Disclaimer: Yeah, none of this is mine; all of it is J. K. Rowling's hard work.
George groaned. After classes, he strolled into the detention room to find a plethora of paper airplanes zooming around, the hushed murmur of gossip, and absolutely no one he was friends with.
"This is the girls' detention room!" he cried in dismay. He'd been hoping to be in a room with fifth-year Seamus Finnegan or even Dean Thomas. They were usually good ones to laugh at his jokes and come up with good chuckling material of their own. Plus, if Lee Jordan caught wind of this mishap, the "George is a girl" jokes would never end. "There's gotta be a mistake," he complained, still standing in the doorway, to the supervisor (Trelawney, of all people! Seriously?)
"Hmm…" hummed Trelawney, her eyes shut tightly behind those obscene glasses frames. "You must be… Fred Weasley? No…. George. You're George Weasley!" Her smile was one of triumph even though George's name was probably on her roster somewhere.
"I know," said George. "And I'm also a guy. This is girls' detention. And, well, I'm obviously too ruggedly handsome to be a girl. McGonagall must've told me the wrong room. I'll be off then! Cheerio!" He turned on his heel and was about to stroll out, but he was interrupted.
"Not so fast, kid!" barked Trelawney. "You're on my list. McGonagall put you in here to keep you out of trouble." Trouble? Was that even a serious issue where George was concerned?
George surveyed the room. It was mostly composed of fifth-years, sixth-years, and seventh-years. "Well, this could be fun, I guess," he said to himself as he took a seat next to a sixth-year Ravenclaw, Maya Hudson. "Why hello!" he said, flashing her his most charming smile. "I don't believe we've met!" Maya blushed and giggled sheepishly. So much for keeping out of "trouble".
Trelawney rolled her eyes, which George was surprised he could see behind those monstrous lenses. "All right, Weasley. I guess McGonagall and I should've foreseen that one. I mean, not that I didn't foresee that or anything. I just, uh, chose not to say anything because, uh… I AM PSYCHIC, YOU KNOW!"
The whole room stopped their chatter and stared at George. Nobody had noticed anything was amiss until Trelawney's manic shouting had interrupted their menial discussions about dresses and shoes and the like. The ensuing silence was deafening.
"Why is there a boy in here?" called out one fourth-year.
"How long has he been here?" called out a nervous fifth-year who had been discussing cute boys with her classmate.
"This isn't a prank, is it?" cried a sixth-year. After that, every girl in the room was shouting obscene questions, mostly about George, but there were some stray questions in the mix about wombats, pepperoni pizza, and Harry Potter.
Amid all the chaos, George looked back at Maya. "So, why are you here?"
Maya looked around suspiciously. "Well, it's loud in here, so I guess my secret's safe right now…"
**0-o-O-o-0-o-O-o**
Fred strutted into the Tutoring Hall. Maybe he'd get a hot tutor. Someone who respected his career as a schemer. Wait. Schemer was a pretty heavy word. He was more of a… philanthropist, really. After all, his jokes were meant for entertaining the masses, which is a good deed, kind of. Midway through rehearsing a charming introduction, however…
"Hermione?" Fred gaped. She was just a fifth-year! Would she even know the subject matter he was supposed to have learned? On the other hand, she WAS Hermione, and Hermione knew everything about everything.
"Yup, I guess I'm tutoring you," said Hermione. She looked just as excited to be there as Fred did, leaning back in the creaky wooden chair with a single pencil tucked behind her ear. However, she did have a Charms textbook open in front of her that could probably swallow the entire universe if it tried.
Fred groaned inwardly. Great; for the rest of the year he was going to have to actually work. "Where are we starting?"
Hermione thought for a moment. "We could start with the basics, I guess. You know: levitation, et cetera."
Fred chuckled. "Please, Hermione. Every great prankster knows how to levitate." He handed Hermione his report card from the previous year, which was so crumpled up that it looked like it had gone through the washing machine, and so messy that it looked like Fred had spilled a pot of coffee over it. Not to mention the mysterious droplet stains in the upper left hand corner, that may or may not have been blood. "This might tell you what I need help in."
Hermione surveyed it from a distance, not wanting to touch whatever the heck was on that paper. "You have okay marks in Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology. It looks like you need the most help in Transfiguration and Potions, which might explain why that dung bomb was an atrocious failure. They're basically just dried potions, after all."
Fred scoffed. "Excuse me. That was an amazing dung bomb."
Hermione just laughed. "Please. That was mild, and I'm being generous. Ron's made better dung bombs than that. RON."
Fred shook his head. "Okay, you're definitely bluffing. RON?" When Hermione just raised her eyebrows, he continued. "Fine, let's start with Potions then."
Hermione waved her wand ("Accio textbook!") and a rather hefty Potions textbook flew towards them, whacking Fred in the back of the head on the way.
Again, please review (I love reviews, can you tell?). Many thanks!
