A/N: Not J.K. Rowling


Chapter 7: They Don't Know the Half of It

Ivy

Divination freaks me out. The idea that you can know that something's going to happen before it does bothers me more than it should. That's really the only reason I was never interested in it.

My sister, on the other hand, was nuts for it. She has a whole shelf in her room devoted to texts on divination. The Headmaster of Clarke made an executive decision years ago to forgo a divination class, so Annie, being the person that she is, bought as many books as she could and tried to teach herself. Fat lot of good that did her. As I've said before, unless you've got 'the Sight', divination is a completely useless subject. She never had an ounce of Seer ability. She tried to read my palm once.

Told me I was going to have 9 children and live to the ripe old age of 12.

That being said, my first encounter with Professor Trelawney was… strange. George and I were exploring on a weekend when we happened upon her holding empty bottles of cooking sherry. We may have popped out from behind a tapestry, so I don't blame her for dropping them on the floor, but she way more startled than she should have been for a divination teacher.

"Oh, my dears, the spirits neglected to inform me of your presence. It had slipped my mind that it's the fourteenth day of the month on a Saturday." She said in a breathy sort of voice. Her beaded shawls jingled as she scurried after a few bottles that rolled their way down the hall.

"Those of us with the Sight do find it difficult to discern the date, what with all the time our mind's eye spends elsewhere," she said.

"Huh. Did not know that," I said. George shuffled beside me and coughed slightly.

"Many do find the vague and veiled ways of the future perplexing," she said as she turned away from us, "Oh, and dear,"

"Yes?" I said,

"Do not dismiss your dreams as meaningless," she shuffled away with her bottles and bangles clinking.

I shrugged and pulled George down another corridor toward the kitchen.

"Are we just going to forget everything that just happened?" asked George once the house elves had supplied us with more food than we could hope to eat.

"Pretty much. Trelawney's a big fraud," I said around bites of chocolate cake, "besides, I try not to put my faith into predictions and shit."

"I dunno Ives,"

"Ivy, say it: I-V,"

George rolled his eyes, "I don't know what you have against that nickname,"

"You should try harder at coming up with a nickname. It's too obvious, you know?"

"So obvious nicknames aren't good?"

"Nope," I said.

"That means we need to find something better for Fred,"

"Fred's not his real name?!" I gasped, "Is it actually Frederick?"

"Er, no. It's Jeremy."

"What?"

"Yeah,"

"Jeremy and George?"

"Jeremy and George," he affirmed.

"No," I said, "I don't believe you."

"You got me… It is Frederick." He hung his head in mock shame.

"There, there," I laughed and patted his hand, "what were you saying before you called me that terrible name?"

"I wouldn't say terrible –"

"George, calling me 'Chocolate Cake' or even 'Treacle Fudge' would be better than Ives," I shuddered and George stuck his tongue out at me.

"Well then, Cream Puff, I was saying that you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss divination. I know that Trelawney is a fraud, but actual Seers are really powerful."

"I know. My English teacher at Clarke was a Seer, but she didn't parade around in gaudy shawls and bangles, I mean really, does Trelawney think that she'll get the Sight by dressing like a muggle fortune teller?"

George snorted and shoveled more food into his mouth.


George

About five years ago, Fred and I came up with an idea that evolved into a fully-fledged dream.

Our pranking started at an early age. When we were two, we snuck Mum's wand while she was cooking and turned her into a clown. That was only the tip of the iceberg, and although we learned never to prank her again (my mother can be scary when she wants to be) we never ran short of 'victims'.

You'd think that our favorite person to prank would be Percy or maybe even Charlie or Bill, but there is one who is so elusive that we've never been able to prank. Not once.

Our Great-Aunt Muriel.

We have tried and tried countless times to put bugs in her food, or turn her hair a different color, or even charm something to follow her around, but to no avail. Fred and I have a Christmas tradition where we plan one grand prank for Aunt Muriel for her annual New Year's visit.

A few days before Christmas, in 1988, Mum took the whole family to Diagon Alley so that we could do some holiday shopping.

The Muriel-Day prank we'd planned was going to spectacular – our Uncle Bilius had given me and Fred three galleons each for Christmas – and we weren't going to skimp on anything. It was an elaborate plot that was only going to be complete with the addition of a fake wand, so we set off for Gambol and Jape's to get the best fake wand that we could afford.

We were sadly disappointed to find out that what Gambol and Jape's carried didn't even deserve to be called a fake wand, it was so hideously manufactured, and the only thing it did was spout water from the tip.

"Even we could make a better fake wand than this, and we're ten!" cried Fred.

"Wait, Fred, that's it!" I said, "We should just make one ourselves. It'd turn out better than this one could ever hope to,"

That idea turned out better than we could have ever hoped, we even convinced our dad to charm the wand for us. It was the start of a dream, and it was the beginning of something that would eventually affect the entirety of the wizarding world.

The finished product was perfection, even though Aunt Muriel saw through it in the end (nothing ever gets by that woman).

But that dream was our future, and so we kept our plans secret until the big reveal, or until someone worthy enough came along.

Our dream was to own the joke shop of all joke shops. A place where mischief was encouraged, a place where one could go for all their pranking needs, a place for people young and old to enter frowning and leave beaming.

We would have more high quality materials and pranks than 'Jape's or even Zonko's so that no one would ever be disappointed with the selection, like we were all those years ago.

"The Fun House?" I said skeptically, "that's terrible Fred,"

He scowled, "Then what would we call it?"

"Something with our name in it. Like Fred and George's…" I trailed off and doodled absentmindedly on a piece of paper while Fred continued to pace. Suddenly we both stopped and faced each other excitedly.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" we cried at the same time.

That was during our first year. The following school years were spent coming up with product blueprints and marketing.

As of fifth year, only two people know about the shop. We told Lee Jordan in our third year. It only made sense that he be included into our planning, he's a marketing genius and our best friend. He wants to work at the Wizard Wireless Network when he graduates, but once he heard about WWW, he jumped right into production.

Ivy was the only other person we told about the shop. Sure, she's my girlfriend, and sure, we only met her this year, but the need for someone gifted at transfiguration quickly arose. Fred and I agreed that the only way to get the Canary Creams to work would be to include Ivy.

"Careers Advice?" read Ivy from the bulletin board in Gryffindor Tower.

"Ah yes, Careers Advice, the most dreaded and most anticipated time of the fifth year," said Lee as he threw an arm around Ivy's shoulder.

"Look at that, she put me and Fred at opposite ends of the schedule!" I said, removing Lee's arm from around Ivy.

"Probably didn't want to suffer the headache that prolonged exposure to the twins causes," said Angelina as she sidled up to read the notice, trailing her finger along the names to find her time slot.

"I resent that," said Fred,

I dropped into a nearby armchair and propped my feet up on a nearby table. Ivy positioned herself into the chair beside me, throwing her legs over the arm and trailing her fingers on the floor. Fred reclined on the couch and shut his eyes.

"So what careers are you looking at Ivy?" I asked after a moment.

"I honestly have no clue," she said, "my entire family works in the American Ministry,"

"I didn't know that," I said in surprise. She nodded and stretched tiredly.

"My dad's an Obliviator, my mum's the head secretary to the American Minister, and my sister is a junior assistant to the Magical Board of Education."

"Magical Board of Education?" I asked

"There's such a thing, yes," she said with a laugh

"Why don't we have one of those?"

"Ask your Minister," she muttered and snuggled deeper into the seat, before sitting up ramrod straight, "Oh God, do we have an arithmancy test tomorrow?"

I rolled my eyes at her and stood up, "We do. You need help?"

"Yes please!"

"And that's my clue to leave," said Fred, "There's a Hufflepuff waiting for me in an unused classroom." He offered as explanation, before racing out of the common room.

I chuckled and fetched my bag from my dormitory.

"So all you have to do for Wendell's theory is multiply Nott's Numeral by seven, while dividing all of the sums at once?" asked Ivy several minutes later.

"Exactly!" I said, grinning, "Although you forgot to substitute all of the undefined R's with T's."

"Damn!" she screamed in exasperation. Several mousy first years looked up in fright and hurried away to a farther table.

"What about dams?"

Ingrid had just walked over with a copy of 'Unfogging the Future', and sprawled herself across the sofa nearby.

"Arithmancy is terrible and I hate it," groaned Ivy, "I'm going to fail this test tomorrow, why did I let my sister talk me into taking it in the first place?"

"Why don't we take a break?" I suggested. Ivy grinned and nodded in excitement, hopping up.

"Ooh, you can help me with my divination!" cried Ingrid, "I need to review some older material,"

"Nooo," groaned Ivy, flopping back down.

"Yes," said Ingrid, "I brought a teacup." She set the cup down and opened up her book.

"So, I see… an arrow? Some dashes… Ooh! A bird, and a circle."

"And what does that mean?" I asked. Ingrid scanned the book.

"Well, the arrow is horizontal which means no change, a circle means success, I'm not sure what kind of bird this is, so I'll go with the general bird, which means good news, and dashes mean that I'm going on many short trips which may cause wasted time."

"So you're not going to change then go on a bunch of pointless trips, but then get the good news that you're successful?" I asked

Ivy frowned and pulled the book over to herself. "Ingrid, this is a crow," she said. "And that's a pistol, not an arrow." She ran her finger down the list of symbols.

"That's an exclamation point, not a dash. An eye… huh."

"What?" asked Ingrid.

"You're in danger, but you've got time, and you should be careful of impulsive decisions?" Said Ivy.

"Are you sure that's right?" asked Ingrid, "That looks like an arrow to me,"

I craned my neck to see into the teacup. "Yeah, that is an arrow. And that doesn't look like a crow,"

Ivy shrugged, and stood up to stretch. "Divination's pretty woolly as it is. We should head down to dinner, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Ingrid. I nodded as well, and the three of us made our way out of the common room. "Ivy, I have a question for you."

"Shoot,"

"Do you like your name?" asked Ingrid. I sent her a strange look, "What?" she asked, "It's a legitimate question! I feel like I'm the only person in the entire history of ever to not like their name."

"You don't like your name?" I asked,

"I like your name," said Ivy.

"Ugh. It's so weird. No one's named Ingrid, and it's not like I could go by my middle name. Priscilla." She shuddered, "What were my parents on when they named me? Although, it could have been considerably worse… my older brother's name is Bertil. That's alright if you're… Swedish or something, but not English. My entire family's like that, it's a tradition to give their kids the mouthiest Swedish names. Aunt Kjerstin, Uncle Gottfried, Cousins Matteus, Melker, Moa, and Mikkel – they really had a thing for 'M' names – Aunt Ottilia, the list just goes on and on and on –"

"Ingrid are you alright?" asked Ivy concernedly.

"Fine, I'm just fine," said Ingrid in a watery voice. I glanced at Ivy in concern. She merely shook her head and put her arm around Ingrid.

"I'll – I'll see you guys in the great hall," I said.

Ivy nodded and steered Ingrid toward the girl's restrooms.


Ivy

"Thank you so much for tutoring me again, Professor," I said before plopping down into the chair across from Lupin's desk.

"It's no problem at all Ivy. OWLs are coming up soon," he said with a small smile. The bags under his eyes seemed darker than normal and his hair just the slightest bit mussed.

"Are you alright Professor Lupin?" I asked, taking my textbook out of my bag.

"I'll be fine," he waved his hand dismissively and stood up, "you won't be needing your book today,"

I shoved it back into the bag and stood up as well, "what are we doing, then?"

"We," he said as he cleared space on the floor, "are going to be dueling." With a great heave, he moved a massive trunk from the center of the room, "Alright, have you ever dueled before Ivy?"

"No…"

"That's okay. In a formal dueling situation, we'd face each other and bow. However, I believe in much more practical applications for dueling. If you ever find yourself caught in a skirmish of any kind at any point in your life, it's important to know that the other person is typically not going to bother themselves with such formalities. They're going to – pardon me – go for the kill.

"An important thing that lots of people seem to forget about dueling is that you should use the space around you, and other branches of magic while in combat. For example, Ivy, why could transfiguration be potentially useful in a duel?"

"Um, you can transfigure objects to fling at your opponent and surprise them with a more physical attack."

"And potions?"

"Potions? You could… brew a harmful potion to somehow use against the other person. But isn't that a little bit impractical?"

"It is completely impractical. I just wanted you to think about any possibilities." He said, rolling up his sleeves, "Now, disarm me."

"Now?" he nodded, "Expelliarmus!" his wand spiraled out of his hands and landed across the room.

"Very good!" he praised, "Now, I'm going to try to disarm you. I want you to dodge and block as many of them you can, okay?"

I nodded and Lupin raised his wand, "One, two, three – Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!" I cried, the red light bounced off my shield,

"Expelliarmus!"

I leapt to the side and ducked behind a trunk, "Nice! Now try disarming me, as well as dodging,"

"Okay," I called from behind my hiding spot.

It continued on like this for about fifteen minutes, just continuous dodging and blocking and disarming, when suddenly – "You got me,"

I stopped to catch my breath and wiped my damp forehead, and shoved my wand into my pocket with a grin. "I win," I said.

Lupin smiled and retrieved his wand from where it had landed on top of a wardrobe.

"I think we'll stop there for today –" there was a knock at the door, "Come in," called Lupin.

And in came Snape, carrying an enormous goblet from which smoke was billowing out, "Hello Professor," I said cheerily. He glanced at me and narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you Severus," said Lupin, taking the goblet from him and setting it on his desk.

"I have more," said Snape in a flat monotone, "if you need."

"Yes, thank you very much," said Lupin with a smile. Snape glanced at me again and backed out of the room.

"What kind of potion is that, if you don't mind me asking, Professor?" I asked, stepping closer to the desk to look at the way the smoke was rising from the cup.

Lupin looked like he was trying to think quickly, "I've been feeling a bit under the weather. Severus was kind enough to brew this potion for me,"

"It doesn't look like any potion I've ever made or seen," I said in awe, lowering my face closer to watch the shimmery blue liquid burble a bit.

"It is rather rare, and quite difficult to concoct," muttered Lupin, sinking into his chair and taking a sip from his goblet, "and Severus is one of few willing to make it," he shuddered after another sip and set the goblet down. "It's a shame I can't do anything about the taste,"

"Why not? Sugar would be too easy to break down, I can tell from the way the smoke is rising in a single column... if that were amortentia you could, but I can tell that it's not… have you thought about essence of vanilla or a sprig of peppermint?"

"I'm afraid that adding any kind of flavoring would make the potion useless, but thank you for the suggestion," Lupin glanced at the clock, "It is getting rather late, wouldn't you say?"

I nodded and offered him a smile, "Thank you professor, I'm not sure how I'd be passing Defense without some of this extra help."

"Ah it's no trouble at all, Ivy. Stop by my office any time if you have any questions. Or if you'd like to chat, the teapot's always hot," he pointed at the kettle near the door with a grin.

I left his office and headed for the Gryffindor common room with something nagging at me the entire time.

"Something wrong Ivy?" asked George after I settled myself down beside him.

"I'm not sure… Is Fred around?" I asked. George raised his eyebrows and nodded, "Oi! Fred!" he called across the common room.

"Yeah?" he walked over to the sofa and leaned over it.

I looked up at him with a frown, "What potions become useless with the addition of flavoring?"

"What kind of flavoring are we talking about? There's usually something that can be added," he said with a grin.

I shook my head and furrowed my eyebrows, "you can't add anything to it,"

"Well I can't recite the list off the top of my head, but I may have something that'll help,"

He galloped up the stairs to the dormitories, leaving me and George alone. I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder with my eyes shut.

"I got it!" Fred announced in a loud voice, dropping something heavy onto my lap. I cracked open one eye and found that Fred was perched on the coffee table across from us. I sighed and straightened up, looking down to see what Fred had brought me.

"Is this a book?" I asked him in mock awe, "You own a book?"

George chuckled and Fred glared at him.

"Oh, stuff it Ivy. That's mainly for reference. What do you think we used to start developing the joke candies?"

"Virgil's Vivid Volume of Vapors, Venoms, and Vital – wow, this guy's really serious about his V's – Potions," I frowned, "Sort of dropped the ball there on that last word, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah… Vital Viles?" said Fred.

"I reckon he was on a roll and just didn't know what else to put." suggested George.

"Oh look, there's a sub-title," I said, "A Glossary of Poisons, Elixirs, Draughts and the Like: What Not to do to Your Brews," I grinned, "What Not to do to Your Brews? Dear God,"

Fred huffed, "Just open the bloody thing, will you?" he got up and stalked back over to Lee, "And tell me if it helped!" he called.

"Let's see if you have a table of contents," I muttered, flipping through the first few pages, "Aha," I ran my finger down the listings, "Healing potions, healing potions, healing potions… there."

I thumbed through the pages and what I found surprised me. The book seemed to be extremely useful, it contained nearly every potion known to wizard kind and thorough descriptions of each, ordered by type and alphabetically.

"So, what are we looking for here?" asked George as he edged closer to me and peered over my shoulder.

"It's thick, blue, bubbly… the smoke rises in a single column, and it can't be flavored." I said while flipping through the book.

"Is it a Cough Draught?" asked George, pointing to the entry in the book.

"No…" I said and turned the page.

We couldn't find the potion anywhere in the Healing chapter. I furrowed my brow and glanced at George, who seemed to be nodding off. I nudged his shoulder.

"George?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"George, you go on up to your dorm. I'll keep looking, alright?"

He rubbed his eyes blearily, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and stood up with a smile. "G'night, Muffin."

I giggled, "Goodnight George. Now go to bed, alright?"

"Yeah," he trudged out of the nearly empty common room. With a sigh, I turned back to the book and the table of contents.

"Where could you be?" I said to myself, "If you aren't a healing potion, then what are you?"

'It is rather rare, and quite difficult to concoct …' I flipped back to the end of the contents page and found what I was looking for: Rare & Complex Potions.

I began reading through the descriptions.

There was only one that matched what I had seen.

'The Wolfsbane Potion – an innovative and complex brew which relieves, but does not cure, the symptoms of lycanthropy. A gobletful of Wolfsbane Potion must be taken for each day of a week preceding the full moon. It is notoriously difficult to make, and is disastrous if tampered with. When brewed correctly, it is thick in consistency, and has the tendency to bubble when freshly made. Its smoke will rise in a characteristic single column and can appear to be blue in certain lighting. Do NOT: cast additional spells on it, re-heat it after it is made, add flavoring, or drink if you do not suffer from lycanthropy. Doing any of this will either make the potion useless or poisonous.

Brew with caution, as the Wolfsbane Potion can be deadly if mishandled, mistreated, or tampered with.'

I shut the book and leaned back in my seat.

So many things were running through my mind, how hadn't I worked it out until now? I pulled my school bag over to me and rummaged through it, finding my Astronomy homework and unfurling the thick rolls of parchment.

The full moon's in five days. And that could only mean one thing.

Remus Lupin could very well be a werewolf.


A/N: Sorry it's been a while since the last update, I sort of got stuck and now I should be back and I have a lot of new ideas, I think the story's going to go through a ton of changes that it wasn't going to before, so I hope I do it justice.

Thanks for reading, and as always please REVIEW!

They really encourage me, and although I'm going to be posting chapters regardless, I really appreciate feedback.