I do not own the lovely piece of art that is Harry Potter. It is the result of J.K. Rowling's genius.
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~Roxanne's Point of View~
Boys are horrible, drama-causing prats. They smell terrible, eat all the food, and have ridiculous I-am-manlier-than-thou competitions that just end up making them all look like mindless gits. Fred observed my revolted, scrunched up expression directed at his enormous mouthful of disgustingly sticky waffles with confusion.
"Problem, sister?" He stabbed another gigantic piece.
"I don't even know how to respond to that." Lily paused her conversation with her friend to shoot me a sympathetic look.
"Just be happy you don't have to deal with them every day." She sighed with an air of great self-sacrifice. "My eyes are forever scarred." Despite their differences in coloring, one could tell that Lily was James's younger sister solely from their shared melodramatic attitude.
Even with the hundreds of history books proclaiming the exemplary character of my Uncle Harry, these two are the only real proof one needs to show he has the patience of a saint. I still don't know how he and Aunt Ginny survive. Luckily, Albus, the middle child, actually seems to have some common sense. He's forever teased about being the black sheep of the family.
"You know you love us." James butted in the conversation with a scarily happy voice, a byproduct of the quidditch win yesterday. Lily surveyed him for a moment, letting him see her disdain seeping out, before pointedly ignoring his comment. James gave her a mock affronted look, and she turned back towards me.
"You look pretty today. Hot date?" I inwardly groaned. I had spent forever trying to figure out what to wear on my "outing" with Matt to Hogsmeade today (I was avoiding calling it a date, but even I wasn't that oblivious). After empting my entire trunk onto my floor, I settled with a new, purple V-neck shirt and a gray cardigan, brushing on some mascara to complete the look. As far as dressing up went, it was pretty mild, but I still felt self-conscious. Naturally Lily just had to point it out. Fred interrupted before I could reply.
"Don't be ridiculous Lily, she's coming to Hogsmeade with us. We were going to stop by our dad's shop." I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Actually, I'm not going with you." All eyes turned towards me in a creepily in-synch display.
"You do have a date!" Lily looked gleefully. "With whom?" She was grinning manically with her blinding white teeth, looking like the only pleased person in the conversation, myself included. James looked startled, Fred looked horrified, and Frank merely raised an eyebrow.
"Er. It happened in charms the other day…" I trailed off into an indistinguishable mutter as everyone continued to stare at me. Thankfully, I was saved by a brown bullet of feathers toppling into the pumpkin juice pitcher, dousing Fred entirely. He started to swear, while the rest of us burst out laughing (me mostly at relief due to the interruption of my interrogation).
"What in the name of Merlin was that?" Fred interrupted his steady stream of curses to examine his attacker. Lily laughed harder.
"That's just Tipsy, Sofia's owl." Lily's friend turned a marvelous shade of red from the seat next to Lily.
"I'm so sorry! He's a complete klutz." Fred looked disgruntled, but waved off the rest of her apologies. Frank waved his wand, making the spilled juice disappear, while Sofia detached the letter from Tipsy.
Seeing that the conversation was about to redirect itself back towards me, I took advantage of the moment to start up a discussion to distract them.
"What do you need from dad's shop anyway?" I asked Fred.
"Supplies, of course." I rolled my eyes.
"I know that, but usually you just have dad send you any pranking things you need."
"Yes, but this needs to be big!" James jumped in enthusiastically.
"Apparently we're celebrating." Frank shook his head amusedly.
"Do I want to know what?"
"The surrender of the Dark Phantom!" Fred stole back the train of speech. At my blank look, he elaborated. "He hasn't done anything since we declared war. Obviously, we have intimidated him back into nonexistence."
"How do you know that he isn't planning some huge prank?" We weren't, but I didn't like their presumptuous behavior. Nashira and I hadn't discussed our pranking career anymore, and I still wasn't sure if I wanted to act behind my family's back or drop the Dark Phantom. Apparently the Marauders had decided for us.
"We just do." I sighed, exasperated.
"Whatever you say."
There was a beat of silence, before Lily's voice drew our attention towards her once again.
"Sofia, are you alright?" I glanced at the blonde third year, who was looking pale and clenching a small piece of paper with white knuckles.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine." She answered distractedly. At Lily's disbelieving expression, she continued. "Really. I just got an odd letter, that's all."
"What did it say?"
"Nothing, I'm overreacting, it's just a stupid joke. I won't let it get to me." Lily looked about to argue, but Sofia jumped up before she could.
"I just realized I forgot my jumper in the tower, I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Before Lily could even call after her, Sofia was gone, leaving a trail of bewildered faces behind her.
"Well that was strange." Fred shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about the sanity of the Hogwarts population." Frank shot him a look, clearly telling Fred to assess the irony in his statement.
Lily stared at the closing door to the Great Hall, looking worried. While the attention was again diverted away from me, I decided to depart before I was subject to interrogation again.
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~Nashira's Point of View~
I woke up at the lovely hour of seven in the morning in an ecstatic mood, ready for the thrilling day ahead. Not.
Sleep tauntingly mocked me from an unreachable realm until the wee hours of the morning, at which point I was granted my ever-comforting, reoccurring nightmare. I woke up tangled in my bedsheets, feeling like I was suffocating in my own fear. I was overheated, weak-limbed, and gasping for breath. Not to mention, my shoulder was continuously jabbing me with harsh stabs of pain.
I finally managed to muster enough strength to drag myself out of bed and the cool November air hit me with a welcoming collision. Luckily, all of my dormmates were still captured in their own bubbles of blissful sleep. I was just thankful none of them had woken. I shuddered to think of what Paisley would do if she found out I still had nightmares.
With weak legs, I staggered out of bed towards my trunk, grabbing my salve, and then lurched to the bathroom as silently as possible, locking the door and accidentally gasping loudly when I saw my reflection, thinking it was some murderer waiting to pounce on me. The nightmare always made me jumpy, although, quite frankly, my unraveled appearance probably could have triggered the same reaction. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the refreshing morning air.
My eyes were wide and bloodshot and my face was a sickly pallid color. I leaned my forehead against the cool walls, closing my eyes ad trying to still myself. Eventually, my heart felt a bit less like it was going to crack open my chest, and I opened my eyes.
The wildness remained in my reflection, but it didn't seem uncontrollably inhumane. I splashed cold water on my face in an ineffective attempt to look as if I had rejoined the living population.
My shoulder was aching as it always did after those dreams, and I hissed as I pulled aside the fabric of my nightshirt. The bright lights of the bathroom captured the four thin silvery lines racking my shoulder with perfect clarity. Over the past six months, they had faded to a spiderwebbing of indented lines, but they stood out fiercely against my pale skin.
I reached for the small jar of salve the healers had showed me how to brew, ignoring the stab the movement induced. As I unscrewed the lid to the faintly yellow, watery mixture, a ginger-like smell pervaded the room.
The first dab of the medicine on my shoulder caused me to suck in a stab of air through clenched teeth. After that, it got better. I massaged the potion onto my skin, savoring the feeling of the pain melting away. By the time the pain had faded ten minutes later, the menial task had calmed my mind.
I was screwing the lid on the jar when I loud rap to the door nearly caused me to catapult the jar across the bathroom. Paisley's whiny voice sliced through the blissful silence.
"Nashira, open up." I let out a quick breath, securely tightening the lid with shaking hands. I did another quick check in the mirror, decided I didn't look noticeably more hideous than I normally did at seven in the morning, and opened the door for Paisley, not even trying to mask my irritation.
"What." She pushed past me in the doorway.
"Do you have to lock the door? Merlin, you're such a prude. You never used to be this self conscious. And what's that smell?" She wrinkled her nose at the strong scent from my salve.
"The poison I doused your toothbrush with." She gave me a look.
"Not funny. You seriously look like a psychopath this morning."
"Why are you even up? You do know it's the weekend, right?" Paisley enjoyed her beauty sleep.
"Hello? It's Hogsmeade today."
"Right. Of course. How could I forget that you need to primp and plaster a solid pound of makeup on your face?" She sniffed at me.
"Between you and me, you might want to try it too." She surveyed me again. "You look like you could use it."
"Thanks, Paisley. Real supportive there." She rolled her eyes.
"Look. I know we don't exactly have a great relationship." I raised my eyebrows and she shrugged. "It's not my fault you're supremely jealous of me. But anyway, as much as it pains me to say it, losing quidditch yesterday wasn't your fault." Right. Quidditch. I had somehow managed to forget about yesterday's disaster. I immediately felt my insides clench. At least I had a scapegoat for my zombie-like appearance.
"Er, thanks I guess." She shrugged again.
"Still doesn't mean I like you, but don't take the match to heart. In my opinion, it's a stupid game. There's so much better things to be doing than trying to murder each other with quaffles or whatever."
"I can't believe you actually know what a quaffle is."
"It's not willing, I can assure you. But there are too many beautiful guys on the team, and they get very protective of their sport. I can't go on a date with them without the subject popping up." She sighed, and I nearly laughed, completely surprising myself.
Actually, this entire conversation was surprising. I don't think I have spoken normally with Paisley since third year. It's probably because we're both sleep-deprived. I shook my head, feeling freaked out, and decided to escape before we started shrieking at each other. "Bye Paisley. Be merciful to your victim today." She stared at me with her Prefect glare. "Er, date, I meant date."
As much as I wanted to sleep until the end of eternity, I knew there was no chance that I was going to drift off again. I decided to be productive instead, and lugged the huge pile of homework I had been abandoning for the past week due to quidditch down into the common room. I wasn't going to miss the utter chaos that took over my life whenever a match tiptoed closer.
An hour and a half of transfiguration did nothing to improve my mood, but I at least felt accomplished after managing to finish an entire essay. The incomprehensible subject also managed to distract me from the thoughts of yesterday, at least until the rest of the common room began to fill with sullen Slytherins. They sent me small encouraging smiles that I didn't return. They hadn't heard yet.
I desperately needed to escape from the school. I dashed up to my dorm to change and grab my bag, before heading down towards the entrance hallway. If you got to the carriages before ten, there was usually no wait.
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~Roxie's Point of View~
So far, my date didn't necessarily make me want to poke my eyes out. It wasn't a great starting point, but also not the terrifying disaster I had been imagining all week. I felt awkward, but we managed to keep the conversation flowing, even if we mostly just spoke about classes.
I mean, Matt Davies wasn't an utter troll. He was nice, acted far more gentlemanly than any of the Marauders would have, and had warm brown eyes (even if he did get distracted on long tangents that caused me to zone out within ten seconds).
We walked around Hogsmeade for a bit, before I realized that he was steering me in the direction of Madame Puddifoots. I approached the store with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Personally, I had never been inside, but the stories were legendary. James never spoke of it without using a guarded whisper, and he swore that, after breaking up with his old girlfriend, he would never again be caught by its frilly pink teeth.
Matt held the door for me, sending me a smile, to which I uncomfortably responded. The first thing we saw upon our entrance was a couple viciously snogging. I mistakenly made eye contact with Matt, and the awkwardness returned.
The next thing I noticed was the pink, which was entirely impossible to not notice as it was everywhere. I felt like I had stepped into one of Dominique's eight year old Princess fantasies. The lacey aproned lady at the front showed us to a table in the back, regrettably away from windows. Now I could only look at Matt or gawk at the couples next to us, who were at the minimum, romantically gazing at each other in a completely sappy and unrealistic fashion.
Matt ordered tea for us. I sat back in my plushy pink seat, trying to relax. I had been tense this entire date, and I felt like I was lying to Matt. I had no intention of beginning a relationship with him and this date felt like a scam to get free raspberry flavored tea and cookies out of him.
Matt grabbed my hand to get my attention.
"Hey, are you alright?" His fingers lingered a second too long on my skin, nearly making my brain shatter with discomfort. I laughed it off, pasting my best interested smile on, and shook my head.
"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry. I just zoned off for a minute." He happily took control of the conversation from there.
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~Nashira's Point of View~
I love Hogsmeade because of its anonymity. Too much activity makes it easy to blend into the background, especially if you have been practicing your entire life. With it being the location of several sketchy pubs, there are quite a few characters more eye catching and intriguing than a solitary teenage girl in a dark hoodie.
Wandering around Hogsmeade had the same relaxing effect as my nightly trips around Hogwarts. I could feel the tension melting off of me in delightfully freeing waves. I grinned to myself.
I passed by several odd characters, including a screeching witch with a one eared cat, a thin wizard carrying five bags entirely filled with chocolate frogs, and an angry goblin with a suspicious package tucked under his arm who gave me a glare as I walked past. But the one person who caused me to do a double take was an ordinary looking boy unobtrusively sitting on a bench.
I stared suspiciously at Frank Longbottom. You would have completely skipped over him if you weren't looking, but something about him caught my attention. Maybe it was because he was split off from Potter and Weasley for what was probably the first time in their entire lives, or maybe it was because he kept anxiously glancing down the street every couple seconds. I raised an eyebrow and was about to walk past, when he turned his head and caught my eye.
He stared, surprised, at me for a moment, before his face cleared into recognition and the unmistakable signs of panic. The alarm bells in my head started beeping with suspicion.
"Oh, um, Nashira. Hey." I focused my interrogation stare on him, willing him to break and reveal whatever evil plot the Marauders were putting into play. I figured he was the look out while Potter and Weasley committed the real crime, and I wasn't in the mood to have the street turn into a river of quicksand underneath my feet, or whatever prank they were planning. Although they apparently aren't good at strategy, because giving Frank the position of look out was a terrible idea. He looked jumpy and nervous, although he was trying very unsuccessfully to hide it.
"Hi Frank. What are you doing here?"
"Er, nothing really. People watching." He glanced back down the street, and I almost pitied his blatantly obvious subterfuge skills. I followed his line of sight down the street, looking for signs of Potter, Weasley, and any hints of mayhem that would clue me into where not to stand when their prank went up. What I saw was not Fred cackling evilly, or Potter causing mischief, but an innocuous sign with curly pink lettering. I sighed, as the pieces clicked into place.
"Are you seriously following Roxie on her date?"
"Psh, what? I dunno what you mean." I fixed my stare on him again and gleefully noted the pink flush creeping up his neck. I grinned.
"You are!"
"No! Why would I even care if she starts dating someone? I just happened to be here." He stood up and crossed his arms.
"So having known her your entire life is not a good enough reason to care? Getting defensive, are we? Which means that you're here for another reason." I stared at him accusingly. "You like her!" He winced.
"Don't be ridiculous." He looked a bit worried at the smirk that was overtaking my face.
"That's so cute!" (It really was). He looked both bemused and resigned at my gushing (which was done in the most Slytherin-like way possible. Sorta. There may have been some high pitched squealing. What can I say? I'm a secret romantic sap).
"Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about." He muttered to me, with the red crawling up his face now.
"Ooh. Potter and Weasley don't know, do they? Even better! And no worries, I won't tell." I hope he and Roxie do get together, Frank seemed kinda adorable. Plus, as much as Roxie tried to hide it, it was kind of obvious that she had been painfully in love with him for quite a while. I snickered manically to myself.
"Great. I love trusting Slytherins." He winced again. "Not that you're right or anything." Poor boy. I shook my head and winked at him.
"Of course not."
"Aren't you supposed to be hiding after you were completely crushed in yesterday's quidditch match?"
"Ouch. Low blow. But I'll let it go because I understand that your newfound love for your lifelong friend makes you prickly."I don't think I have ever seen Frank so uncomfortable, so I decided to take pity on him. "Fine, fine, I'll change the subject."
Just at that moment, Frank looked down towards Madame Puddifoot's for possibly the thousandth time. His expression immediately morphed into alarm, and in a split second he had grabbed my arm and dragged me behind a large cart selling enchanted scarves that were charmed to match your outfit. I yanked my arm back from him, rubbing it.
"Subtle. That really blended in." Being forcefully dragged really brought out my sarcastic side. Frank sighed.
"It's not what it looks like."
"Alright."
"I'm not following her because I'm jealous or like her or whatever."
"Sure."
"It's as you said. I've known her for years and I want to make sure she's alright."
"Ok."
"And Davies has a reputation for being a git."
"If you say so." Frank glared at me. "Look. It's nice that you care so much for her," I held up my hand before he could interrupt me "as friends or whatever your relationship with her is. But you can't stalk her on her date. She doesn't need a babysitter and she can take care of herself."
"I'm not stalking her." Frank grumbled sullenly. I rolled my eyes.
"Secretly following someone around generally qualifies as stalking. You can spruce it up with the euphemism of 'people watching' to appease your conscience, but it's the same thing." Frank ignored me, peeking out behind the cart, and immediately ducking back behind it. Apparently Roxie hadn't reached an appropriate stalking distance yet. Frank was about to reply when a voice interrupted us.
"Frank, what are you doing here?" Fred Weasley glanced at me with suspicion. "I thought you said you had to buy some quills?" Fred rolled his eyes just in case any of us somehow managed to possibly forget his disdain for all things school related. Potter interrupted next.
"If you skived us off to date Alden I might have to revoke your Marauder privileges." His tone was joking, but I wondered how truthful his statement actually was. I somehow didn't think they would take well to having their exclusive group interrupted by a girl (and this isn't even taking into account that I'm a wicked, malicious Slytherin hell bent on kidnapping their family members).
"Potter, I would never subject myself to the nightmare of dating someone inside of your little clique."
"Never?" James gasped, astonished. "Not even for Fred's lovely biceps?" Weasley proceeded to give me a macho display of said biceps, attracting catcalls from a middle aged witch walking past. I snorted while all the Marauders looked disturbed.
"Tempting, but no. I'll leave you for your mob of second year fangirls." Fred looked affronted.
"Our fan base by far exceeds the limits of second year!" I nodded understandingly.
"Of course it does."
"Well if you aren't having a torrid love affair, what are you both doing here?" James directed his question at Frank, but looked at me. I rolled my eyes.
"Hogsmeade isn't that big, coincidences happen. I can assure you that I wasn't purposefully searching out your charming company." Frank shot me a grateful look for not mentioning his "people watching" expedition. Speaking of which…
I watched as Fred's expression turned horrified as Roxie walked past.
"She's here with Davies? Davies?" James whipped around too and started mutter insults under his breath about "sly little gits." Frank immediately arranged a surprised expression on his face and sent me a look in exchange for my eyebrow raise.
"I can't believe she didn't tell us!" Fred looked annoyed and, if you wanted to dig down really deep and get all analytical, probably a little hurt too.
"Did you ever think that it might be because she knew you'd react like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like overprotective twits. You're her brother, not her keeper." I considered telling them that Roxie had been dreading this all week, but decided against it. Besides, they had already turned their attention from me.
"We should do something! He's probably trying to weasel out quidditch secrets." I threw my hands up in exasperation.
"Is that seriously the only thing guys think about? And I refuse to let you interrupt her date. Did you ever consider that maybe he actually likes her? It's not always about you all."
"Yeah, well, Davies is a git."
"You are going to leave her alone." I spoke slowly and enunciated every syllable in order that it might penetrate their thick skulls. James sighed.
"Look, how 'bout this. We won't storm off and butt in, but we'll follow at a safe, hidden distance and observe. If Davies steps out of line, then we can step in and help."
"Roxie doesn't need your help."
"You aren't going to get a better offer, and we're quite stubborn. You can't really stop us."
"You want to stalk her!" Why don't these idiotic prats understand that stalking is frowned upon in this society? Fred interrupted jovially.
"Don't think of it as stalking. It's more like… people watching." I gaped at him and let out a sigh of relent, while Frank shot me the smallest smirk. It was ridiculous and kinda funny how similar these boys thought.
"Whatever. But I'm coming with you to make sure your definitions of "stepping out of line" are in synch with the rest of the world's." I could very clearly see them barging in if he accidentally brushed her hand (much less tried to hold it).
"Whatever, but let's go before we lose sight of them." And here I was hoping that my Hogsmeade visit would be nice and relaxing. I could foresee this trip doubling my stress level.
Boys act like stubborn, obnoxious three year olds. They have one track minds, a need for their own way, and not an ounce of maturity. Or maybe that's just the Marauders (I suppose it's unfair to judge half of the population based on a group that proudly declares its abnormality).
Fred Weasley thought fart jokes were hilarious, even after the twelfth time. James Potter had an unhealthy obsession with his hair (and this is coming from someone who's lived with Paisley MacLaggen for her entire life). Frank, the one popularly believed as "normal" and "down to earth," has the most peculiar sense of humor I have ever heard (he sneaks in little ironic comments so subtly that they completely whiz past you until two minutes later, when the moment has far past and you can only marvel at his genius internally). It was exhausting (and I had only been doing this for an hour).
It was a flashback to two summers ago, when I was forced to babysit a nearby family's the eight year old twins and their younger sister. They had the same boundless energy, same addiction to sugar (Fred was now carrying an armful of sugar quills while James had dived into the chocolate frogs), and the same refusal to acknowledge authority. The only real main difference was they didn't have Frank's carefully planted remarks (I had decided that, after watching James run his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, he and the sister possessed the same level of vanity that it made the gender difference practically irrelevant).
"Nashiraaaa!" Fred whined at me. Somewhere over the past hour he and Frank had decided calling me Alden with menacing voices and a combative glare required too much effort (Potter was still holding strong though).
"What?" Fred had long since departed into the world of "sugar high," and was now rotating between poking Frank and laughing hysterically. I shouldn't have allowed them to go into Honeydukes….
"They just went into a bookstore." Fred observed with glee (after, of course, inserting his look of contempt for bookstores). "This, if I know my sister at all, means that we have a good hour to do whatever we want!"
"Uh huh." Another hour of the Marauders….
"Stop wasting time trying to explain to the ignorant!" Potter commanded, and he and Fred dashed off in the crowd, leaving me and Frank to slowly trail after their wake until we reached the doors of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.
The Hogsmeade location had opened several years ago after Zonko's started having financial problems and George Weasley bought it out. Officially, the reason was so "poor Hogwarts students could continue on the tradition of terrorizing their teachers," but, after spending the day with two members of the Weasley family, I strongly suspected it had more to do with the spying potential it afforded George Weasley over his children (which, now that I have exchanged more than petty insults with Fred, seemed like a logical decision. I'm not sure I would have let him leave the house unchecked either).
The outside of the shop was exactly what one would expect of a joke shop run by a Weasley. It was loud, eye catching, and, depending on your sources, completely obnoxious. I saw a horrified mother dragging her five year old child away from the entrance before he could be lost among shelves of pranks, looking as if she were dragging him from the very source of sins and frivolousness. I opened the door hesitantly. Joke shopping with the Marauders seemed a little too weird for me. It was almost like we were friends (HA). I didn't trust them to not leave me stranded among aisles of extendable ears while they went out and murdered Davies.
Luckily, I spotted Fred and Potter right away, huddled next to sign advertising toy nifflers. The shop was crowded, as expected on a Hogsmeade visit, and I immediately ducked down a random aisle, while Frank went to join their plotting. I figured being in eyesight while they were planning a prank was not a good idea, as I would assuredly be the target.
I found myself eye level to a cage of multi colored pygmy puffs. I spent the next half hour browsing, making sure that I had a vague idea where the Marauders were so I wouldn't be abandoned here, and marveling at the range of pranks offered. My parents weren't too keen on joke shops, so most of my knowledge of WWW products came from the Marauder's demonstrations.
I was eyeing a package of shock quills (same appearance as sugar quills, but with a nasty electric addition), when a voice cut in next to me.
"You must be the notorious Nashira Alden." I glanced up to meet the eyes of George Weasley. I blinked for a moment at his bright purple WWW robes before giving him a small grin.
"Indeed."
"A pleasure. You have become quite the celebrity in our family." Ironic, considering this was the most famous family in the wizarding world. I gave him a grimace, not sure how else to respond. "So what's this I hear about you babysitting my charming son?" My face immediately contorted into an even stronger grimace. Mr. Weasley laughed.
"It was a mutually reluctant compromise for both of us."
"I gathered. I was told you were hindering their task of protecting Roxie from an 'ugly, stupid, illiterate troll.'" I rolled my eyes for what felt like the seventh millionth time today.
"Of course they told you that."
"Unfortunately, with all of their blatantly exaggerated insults, it was difficult to tell if I should actually be worried about him."
"You don't have to be." I assured him. "Matthew Davies is definitely not ugly or illiterate, but he does have a disturbingly large superiority complex." Mr. Weasley's eyes began to twinkle.
"Ah, one of those kinds. Reminds me of my brother Percy. He was an insufferable git too." He faked a nostalgic look. "Speaking of Roxie, care to tell me what she's up to?"
"Er, sorry?"
"I have somewhat of a sixth sense for mischief and Roxie appears to be dabbling." He looked gleeful at the thought. He whispered conspiringly to me. "After six years of behaving, she might finally have broken into her rebellious stage." A proud, satisfied smile broke across his face. "So, what's she been doing?" After a good ten seconds of me gaping openmouthed at him, he decided to change tactics.
"What's this I hear about the Dark Phantom?" He prodded lightly.
"Um, what?" How did he even know about that? He wouldn't actually spy on his children, right? Probably? Mr. Weasley noticed my freaked out expression.
"Not that that's relevant, of course. I'm merely curious, as a former Hogwarts prankster. Fred hardly writes home, so our only source of information is from James, who's been known to somewhat dramatize the details." How surprising.
"There's not really a lot to tell. He hasn't done anything in a while; they say he's given up competing."
"Any truth to that statement?" I shrugged.
"I dunno. It's not really up to me." Interrogations make me defensive.
"Well, if it were up to me, I think he should keep up the rivalry. Fred's been getting lax lately." He spoke teasingly, giving me a small wink that made me laugh. I couldn't tell if he actually knew or not, but I think he at least suspected. Apparently Roxie's father knew her better then she thought. "Also, tell Roxie not to forget to write home if she needs anything." He dug around in a pocket inside of his robes, finally pulling out a WWW catalog, handing it to me. "Take this too, just for fun." I raised an eyebrow, slightly awed by how completely laid back he was.
"I'll remind her about writing home."
"I should be getting back to business now, but good luck keeping those boys in line." He glanced around him, before grabbing something at random from a shelf. "Have this, in case they get too hot headed. It's on me." He gave me a joking smile before disappearing into the crowd before I could even thank him.
I shook my head in amusement. I could see where Fred had gotten some of his odder quirks. After the excitement of meeting George Weasley, I decided to wait outside. I took a seat on the bench to wait. I glanced at the box Mr. Weasley had given me, which was still clutched in my hand. It was a bottle of Brain Freeze Breeze. Inside the box was small spray bottle filled with a bluish liquid. I rolled my eyes, before tucking it into my pocket.
Ten minutes later, I was glad I had left the shop early. I watched in amusement as Potter pushed Fred and Frank out the door.
"Hurry up-"
"—before she sees"
"GO."
They all saw me at the same moment and stopped short, skidding into each other in a completely cartoonish fashion. Potter sighed and swore under his breath.
"Hey Nashira, whatcha doing here?" Fred asked me brightly.
"How do you even manage to prank anybody? You three are quite possibly the most obvious people I have ever met." He shot me an innocent look.
"Guys, look." Frank directed our attention back to the bookshop, where Roxie and Davies had finally emerged, each carrying a small bag.
"Ha." Fred looked excited. "See? I knew she thought he was a git! They've only been in there for forty minutes. If their date was really going well, they would've been in there for much longer." Potter and Frank were nodding in assent, and I felt a spark of hope ignite.
"Maybe you should leave her in peace for the rest of the day."
"Don't be ridiculous." Potter chastised me with his hope squashing words.
"I had to try."
With that lovely conversation, our stalking expedition began again. Following someone is a lot less exciting than one would think.
As expected, traveling with the Marauders was not a particularly subtle affair. They continuously were stopped for short conversations by their fellow Gryffindors, most which involved them being congratulated on the quidditch match yesterday. I mostly just sunk into the background and hoped they would lose track of Roxie. After the fourth time the Marauders were approached to be sung praises and worshipped, Potter cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to me.
"You played well yesterday too." I broke eye contact. I didn't want anything to do with quidditch right now. It was a stupid game that caused stupid people to stupidly overreact. Besides, it didn't involve me anymore.
"Thanks Potter. You too, I guess." A somewhat weak reply, but it was the best I could muster up. I was surprised Potter had lowered himself from his podium of glory to compliment the enemy. It actually made him seem somewhat decent. I didn't want him to be a nice person. It was much easier if I didn't like him. Fred broke in while I was steadfastly refusing to look at Potter.
"What about me Nashira? Didn't I play well yesterday too?" Fred whinnied with (supposedly) mock childishness. I turned away from Potter, relived.
"Of course. You were the epitome of grace and athleticism." Fred looked offended at my sarcastic tone and tried to whack me with a sugar quill, holding it like a sword. I let out a small smile.
"You aren't actually that bad." Fred looked at me thoughtfully. Both Potter and I turned to him in surprise and (in Potter's case) horror. Fred quickly amended his statement. "I mean, I still don't like you." I raised my eyebrow and he rapidly continued. "Well, not that I don't like you, because I do, it's just that-"
"Stop. Really, just stop." I shook my head, holding back a smile. I had caused Fred Weasley to babble! It brought amusement to my withered and dry heart.
At this point, we had followed Roxie to a small park with a couple of benches. People were milling around, enjoying "warm" weather before predicated the temperature dive in the next week. Potter and Fred inched towards them, much to my chagrin.
"He's trying to hold her hand!" Fred spoke with an outraged roar. Potter looked about ready to storm off towards them and yank them apart.
"Chill." Impulsive idiots. We didn't have the best angle, but from what I could see, Roxie was gently prying her hand from Davies' and speaking with a kind smile on her face. Apparently, Davies did not agree with whatever she was saying, and reached for her hand again. I literally heard Fred growl. I could feel my entire morning's work ready to combust in a moment and I started to panic. With a sudden inspiration, I reached into my robes and found the bottle Mr. Weasley had given me. Hot headed indeed.
With a quick spurt, Fred's face was covered in tiny ice crystals. I smirked. Handy. I looked threateningly at James, who glared at me, looking dismayed that I had dared to use a WWW product on a Marauder.
"Stop it, both of you. You two need to cal-" Wait. No. Not just two. I turned in dismay to my left, where the absence of Frank Longbottom suddenly became all too apparent.
My head whipped towards Roxie, and I let out a groan of frustration. No, not Frank. Frank was supposed to be the sensible one.
He was only a couple feet away from them when I finally spotted him. Neither Roxie nor Davies noticed the scarily calm Marauder stalking up to them. By the time they turned towards him, looking confused, Frank's fist was already flying towards Davies' nose.
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Well. It's finally here. This chapter went through lots of plot changes before I finally finished. I kept on adding and taking away events, but I am mostly satisfied with the results. Thoughts? Did Frank's reaction seem way too out of character? (To some extent it is supposed to be, but I feel like it's a bit overdone. I couldn't think of any other way to do it though, and I needed a catalyst for future events). Any confusing parts?
On a side note, I seriously over estimate the amount of time it takes for each chapter. I had planned the events from the last three chapters to be squashed into one, which obviously didn't happen. Thanks again for reading, and leave a review if you have a moment! Special thanks to those lovely people who leave multiple reviews :)
