Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Fred woke up, worried that he had slept in and was going to be late for the train. He was surprised that George hadn't taken the opportunity to wake him in a creative way. He pulled aside the silver and green curtains of his bed and put his foot on the stone floor.
Wait, this was all wrong. His bed didn't have curtains, and they were certainly not silver and green, and the floor should be wood, not cold, gray stone. It was all wrong.
The previous day's came flooding back to him. He let out a groan, and sat back down with a thump. He lay back down and pulled the pillow over his head. He heard voices, but he refused to listen to them. If he could make them go away, it would all go away, and he wouldn't have to face the day.
Suddenly, the pillow was ripped out of his hands and thrown to the foot of the bed, and the curtains were pulled back. Pucey, as he remembered the guy's name was, told him bluntly that he was going to be late for breakfast, and then left. Fred dragged himself out of bed, and went to brush his teeth and hair. He hurried to the table and sat down, eating fast to avoid sitting with these Slytherins for longer than necessary, watching the people at the table while he was at it. Pucey was talking to a few Slytherins about the timetable that he had just gotten, and was comparing, but he didn't seem to be too bad. He didn't seem to be the evil snake that many Slytherins seemed to be.
Further down the table, there was a Slytherin that Fred recognized as "Montague, Lance". Montague looked like a stuck-up aristocrat, with his dark hair and high cheekbones, but his face was twisted into a scowl, and he was watching people like a predator waiting for prey to reveal itself. He was also very large, both fat and muscular, and his arms and neck looked like hairy hams.
To Fred's left, there was a Slytherin that looked like he was part troll. He was clearly a Quidditch captain, since he was talking to someone about Quidditch plays, and giving them instructions, but he didn't seem too intelligent. The guy he was talking to was calling him "Flint", and someone else referred to him as "Marcus". Assuming Marcus was his first name, he was called Marcus Flint, Fred thought with a hint of sarcasm.
Fred continued looking at the Slytherins and learning what he could, until someone dropped a timetable in front of him, nearly in his food. He looked up, and saw Professor Snape handing out the timetables.
"Thank you, Professor," he acknowledged politely, and checked his timetable. He had Double Potions with Gryffindor first thing, which was sure to be hell, and then he had Herbology and Charms after lunch. Fred noticed that Gryffindors and Ravenclaws seemed to be the partners of choice for pairing Slytherins with, and decided that this was really not his day. On the other hand, the Slytherins would probably have the Hufflepuffs for snack, so it was wise not to place them together. He grabbed his stuff, and ran for the library, not noticing the looks that George and Lee were giving him for avoiding them.
George woke up and immediately sensed that something was wrong. Firstly, he was at Hogwarts, but he had been woken up by Lee instead of Fred. Secondly, he didn't see Fred anywhere in the dormitory. In fact, there were only two other people in the dormitory other than Lee and himself, and they were a pale, skinny brown haired guy, and a thin, sandy haired guy. Thirdly, there were no early morning pranks, loud noises, or other signs of Fred, or even a fifth bed. Fred wasn't anywhere to be found.
"Lee, where's Fred?" George asked, now thoroughly confused. Lee waited until the other two boys were out the door, and then turned to face him.
"George, do you remember what happened yesterday?" Lee asked, with a look that said he was bracing himself for an explosion, but was still concerned.
"Yeah, I remember it, so where's Fred?" In all honesty, he didn't really, but he wasn't thinking about that. Had something happened to Fred? Why wasn't he here?
"Tell me what you remember, starting on the train." Lee instructed him, making him wonder what was going on. He was now slightly scared, even if he would never admit it. And that dazed feeling wasn't helping any.
"Well, we got on the train and found ourselves a compartment. We slipped a few dungbombs into a few passing people's bags, and then sat down. You came in shortly after and sat down on a "kick me" sign that Fred had slipped there, and it stuck to you. You aren't mad about that, are you?" George asked.
"No, I'm not mad. It was a joke," Lee replied honestly. "Keep going."
"Well, I stuck the note on someone else, and then we got into those boats, and threw a stink-bomb into another boat. We went inside, and Fred teased McGonagall, and then McGonagall lined us up for Sorting. We listened to the Sorting Hat's song, then McGonagall called us up in alphabetical order. You became a Gryffindor, and we knew we'd all be in the same house because no Weasley would ever be…" George trailed off as the rest of the night came flooding back to him, like a tidal wave of reality, and washed away the illusion leaving only the bare, painful truth.
Lee sighed. "I'm just as confused about that as you are."
"No, you're not. The sorting hat told me something else, besides where I belonged. It told me I was like you and Fred, but it also mentioned something that it had been told by Godric Gryffindor, and told me that we were supposed to be involved in it. We, meaning Fred and me," replied George, tiredly. "Something about a 'catalyst' to unite the houses and bridge the gaps between them, and how Godric told him that his friend Slytherin was drifting away. It's all a mess."
"So, basically, you and Fred are supposed to bridge the gap between Slytherin and the other houses, and make us all get along?" Lee demanded incredulously. "Couldn't it have just asked you to take over from Santa Clause and make your rounds without magic?"
"Huh? Who the bloody hell is Santa Clause?" asked George, confused again.
"Never mind. Look, I say we give Fred a chance, okay? I don't like this Slytherin business, either, but perhaps he said something to the hat to affect the outcome, so the least we can do is give him a chance to explain."
"Yeah, I guess," George replied tiredly. This had taken a lot out of him.
"What do you say we wreak some havoc?" Lee suggested with a grin, in an attempt to cheer George up. The quickly planned, then put their plan into action. Kenneth Towler and Simon Collins were both rather shocked to find their underwear flashing different colours, visible even through their robes. They were so surprised, in fact, that they didn't notice the fact that their faces were covered in lipstick in the shape of lip prints until after breakfast.
"Where'd you learn that one, Lee?" asked a finally grinning George. The flashing underwear had been Lee's idea, while the lipstick was George's.
"Oh, here and there…" avoided Lee, until a spoonful of porridge hit him in the eye.
However, the mood was dampened when Fred hurried out of the Great Hall without even trying to talk to them.
Fred was checking out a small pile of books on hexes when he saw Lee and George walking into the library talking and clearly planning something. All three of them stopped in their tracks and stared at the other. George had a look of pain in his eye, and Fred knew it wasn't physical pain, while Lee just looked confused, hurt, and possibly slightly hopeful for a resolution. Fred knew there was a very pained and apologetic look in his eye, that would probably match the look in George's but he couldn't let either of them be seen talking to the other.
When George took a step towards him, he ran, taking his books and running as fast as he could towards the fresh air. This choking feeling had to be because the air was too stuffy in the library, and he just needed fresh air. But when he got outside and found himself safely alone, he felt himself shaking and wanting nothing more than to lie down and sob like a small child, but he held it back, since a Slytherin crying was even more vulnerable than a Slytherin talking to a Gryffindor.
He was a Slytherin, and he couldn't talk to his own brother.
When Fred ran out of the library, the sight tore through George like a knife through paper. He had seen the pained, apologetic look in his brother's eye, and he couldn't do anything to help because his brother didn't want his help. He would have sat down on the spot if Lee hadn't hauled him over to a chair. He sat down, feeling weak, but not feeling like crying, since there was no time to cry. He was a Gryffindor, and he would have to be brave throughout it, just like his brother needed to take the Slytherin way and not let anyone see his emotions. That was the way it was. He was a Gryffindor and his brother was a Slytherin. Vaguely, he heard Lee talking softly to him, but he didn't pay it much attention.
"C'mon Lee, let's get to Potions," he heard himself say, and barely registered the relief on Lee's face at hearing him talk.
"C'mon George, lets blow up some cauldrons!" Lee replied with a grin, causing a slight smile on his face. It was good to have a friend who was capable of cheering you up at times like this. Lee was his friend, but that couldn't quite fill the hole left by Fred. Only time would tell if anything could.
Lee kept up a steady stream of stories that would usually have had him rolling with laughter, and by the time they had reached potions, George was feeling marginally better.
Lee was going to kill Fred. No, that wasn't true. He was going to curse Fred until he apologized for his behavior and was their friend again. He'd seen the pained look in Fred's eye, and he knew that Fred was no evil Slytherin snake. Fred didn't want to hurt them, but that didn't mean that he hadn't, or that he wouldn't do it again. The only thing Lee knew for certain, as he recited the story about hiding his mother's knickers in the oven, was that Fred needed to be brought to his senses before anything else could happen.
Fred rushed into potions just as the bell rang, and hurried to the first open seat, which was one of two at the last open cauldron. Professor Snape cleared his throat, and started to speak, but was interrupted by Adrian Pucey slipping through the door and into the last open seat next to Fred.
"Settle down," began the greasy git that Fred had to force himself to respect as a teacher. The Gryffindors looked furious, as Snape would have taken away a hundred points and given the most vile detention he could think of to any student but one of his own that had walked in late. Fred's chest tightened as he saw Lee mutter something to George, making him smirk slightly, and Lee's eyes sparkled with mischief. Snape shot them as sharp look and took away five points for talking out of turn.
"You are here to learn the precise art of potion-making. There is to be no idiotic wand waving or incantation here, so I doubt many of you will appreciate the magic used here. I don't expect you to understand and respect the beauty of a lightly simmering cauldron with soft fumes rising from its surface. I don't expect you to appreciate the power of the liquids that creep through veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you to bottle fame, to brew glory, even how to stopper death…if you aren't as foolish as the usual idiots I have to teach." Snape recited, and Fred had a feeling that he started every first class with a similar speech, or maybe even had the general idea written on a cue card. He automatically looked to tell George his suspicions, but remembered he was sitting next to Pucey. George was on the opposite side of the room, next to Lee.
"Can anyone tell me," Snape barked, forcing Fred's attention to him, "where I would find a bezoar? Jordan!"
"I….don't know, sir," Lee said, looking surprised. George leaned in and whispered something to him. "In the stomach of a goat."
"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley; I asked Jordan," sneered Snape. "Since you seem to be our new potions expert, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"I don't know sir."
"Let's try again, then. Weasley, what's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" said Snape with a sneer.
George sat up straighter. "They're the same plant, and monkshood is used in the Wolfsbane potions, sir, and I do believe that other students should get a chance to answer some questions, sir, if it isn't too much trouble," he suggested in a completely neutral tone.
Snape took five points from Gryffindor for George's "cheek", and then set them to make a potion to cure boils.
"So, we're working together, then?" Pucey said, turning to Fred.
"I guess so, Pucey," Fred replied without emotion; he was watching George and Lee grin at some mistake Montague had obviously made.
"Weasley, friendships with Gryffindors will never work, as will ones with Hufflepuffs. Ravenclaws can be allies, but actual friendships are bound to fail. A Slytherin needs allies and family, not friendships, so go get some nettles, snake fangs, etcetera, and I'll light the fire and start."
"Sure thing, Pucey, would you like fries with that?" answered Fred, dully.
Pucey looked confused for a second, then grinned slightly and said "Sure, don't forget the sauce. And it's Adrian."
"OK, Pu…Adrian. I'm Fred, since there's a lot of Weasleys." Fred grinned slightly, and then went to go fetch the ingredients they needed.
Fred and Adrian worked for a while in relatively friendly silence, trying to ignore Snape's habit of criticizing everyone except Warrington and Montague, who he seemed to like, until a loud bang nearly made Adrian drop the porcupine quills. Spinning around, he saw that Kenneth Towler and Simon Collins had managed to explode their cauldron, or rather someone, probably Montague, had thrown a firework into their cauldron. Boils were forming over both Gryffindors, but Snape was seemingly too busy insulting them to notice. After finally yelling at them to get to the hospital wing, he rounded on George and Lee, who were sitting behind them.
"Idiots! Did you hope that letting them make several obvious mistakes would make you look better? Five points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled.
Fred was about to protest when a foot hit his leg, hard, and Adrian shot him a warning look, and then muttered, "It's an unspoken rule that Slytherins respect Snape, so don't push it. He's got a nasty temper."
Fred slumped, and rubbed his throbbing leg, then turned back to the potion. At the end of the lesson, it looked like they would get a good mark. Fred seemed to have found a Slytherin "ally" in his year, but he still missed George, and even Lee. He hurried away as soon as the bell rang, barely hearing Pucey yell "See ya, Weasley!" He saw the look in his friends' eyes, and he ran with his face down and hidden so they wouldn't see the emotion there. He stuffed his lunch quickly down his tight throat, then ran to the library.
The library became his sanctuary, his place where he could work towards a purpose, the purpose of being able to defend himself, and that would in turn allow him to talk to his friends again without the three of them being hexed to death. Every moment spent in there was a moment less before he could talk to George and Lee again.
Realizing he was late for Charms, he stuffed the book into his bag and ran. He was only a few minutes late as he ran in the door, and he only lost one point. Sitting alone in the corner, he buried himself in the work; refusing to think of anything but the spell he was learning the theory on. He held the same theory through Transfiguration, and through his studies later that evening. When he crawled into bed that evening, he had learned the shield charm, the spell to shoot sparks, the fire charm, and, most importantly, the disarming curse. He was rather shaky on the shield and was improving on the disarming, but he couldn't wait any longer to talk to his friends.
Suddenly, an idea came to him; he could secretly pull his friends aside, and they could practice together. It could work—it had to work.
With the comforting thought that he would be able to talk to his friends the next day, he fell asleep to the sounds of his roommates' snores.
George lay in bed, wondering what was wrong with the Weasleys. Percy was muttering in the common room about "good-for-nothing Slytherins" and how they had no respect for authority, while giving George pointed looks. George suspected that he had written to their mother and told her about Fred's Sorting.
He hoped she wouldn't send a Howler, or he'd be sending one right back, and two to Percy.
Charlie was watching all of his brothers like cursed objects ready to go off at any second. He was softening his voice to the two Weasleys he could talk to, as though they were delicate and near breaking, but at least he didn't seem to think Fred was evil and at least he gave George some room after being snapped at and told to 'bugger off'.
Fred was the biggest wild card, though, between the fact that he was avoiding his two best friends, and the fact that he was clearly conflicted over something. He clearly cared about George and Lee, as he had opened his mouth to protest Snape's behavior, but he also seemed to be somewhat friends with the dark, grinning Slytherin named. He even seemed somewhat content around him, in comparison to the pained look on his face around them. However, George didn't know what was going through his brother's head, so he couldn't be sure of his intentions.
Suddenly, the voice that had appeared the night before spoke again. He's your brother, it said, you know him. Does the fact that he sleeps in a different part of the castle change the fact that he is your flesh and blood, not to mention best friend?
George sighed, knowing the voice was right, but also knowing that Fred had some explaining to do to both him and Lee. There would be a discussion between the three of them soon, and that would be the deciding factor in his decision. You could never win an argument with the resident voice in your head, he thought, vaguely amused but not particularly happy.
Good boy, George, you use that gray matter, said the voice. As it faded away, he heard it tell him one last thing. You'll bring it all together, you guys will.
Confused, but forcefully reminded of what the sorting hat told him, George decided that the sorting hat was right, and that maybe the houses weren't really that different. Deciding to talk to Fred the next day, he slipped into a restful sleep.
At The Burrow, Molly and Arthur Weasley were wondering how any son of theirs could ever be a Slytherin. The twins might be sneaky, but they were fun-loving and friendly. How one of them could be a Slytherin and one a Gryffindor, they had no idea. Percy seemed to think that George had fooled the sorting hat, which was ridiculous.
But, no matter what house the boys were in, and no matter what they did, both parents knew they would always love them. They could only hope that the other siblings felt the same.
A/N: Here is the next chapter, as promised, albeit a little late. 2 reviews for the next chapter (bringing the total up to 7), if anyone is interested.