Chapter 11: Revolution

April Fools was quickly approaching and James and Fred knew it would be the perfect time to prank Peeves.

"I can just see it now," Fred said at breakfast, the week before the fateful day. He put his hand up and looked into the distance. "We bait Peeves with Barvish, pull the prank, and let him chase us right into the Great Hall where everyone will be eating dinner."

"Flawless," James said after taking a swig of pumpkin juice. "Except we have no prank."

Fred's face fell. "Debbie downer." James chortled as Tabbie slowly, almost hesitantly sat down next to him, her blonde hair in pigtails. "What are two scheming about now?"
"Who says we're scheming?" James asked, between mouthfuls of eggs.

"You're always scheming."

"We resent that Tabbie," Fred said in pseudo-seriousness, while Tabbie just rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, I've got some news for you both," Tabbie continued, looking a bit nervous, as she helped herself to some bacon. "About Meadowes."

James and Fred exchanged a look. Tabbie never talked about Meadowes.

"What about him?" James asked.

"Well… you remember when he had the puking pasty incident?" She was visibly nervous and purposely avoiding eye contact with both of them.

Neither spoke, her graveness suddenly wearing off on them.

"Well… I sort of…" But Tabbie stopped short, noticing that Genevieve Roth was looking in her direction from further down the table, and was very clearly eavesdropping.

"WHAT?" Fred bellowed, causing half the Gryffindor table to look their way, as well as countless other students from different houses.

"SHHH!" Tabbie demanded. "I- I –uh nevermind. Best be off to Potions."

"But you just got here… and you haven't eaten anything," James said, but his voice fell on deaf ears. Tabbie scampered away from the table faster than either of them had ever seen her move.

"Reckon she knows who did it?" Fred whispered.

James just shrugged. How would Tabby know anything about it? It was all quite puzzling. "We'll just badger her about it. She'll tell us eventually. She was bloody weird about it though… almost guilty. But she wouldn't have done it."

"That's why I'm never getting involved with any girls," Fred declared. "They're simply nutty."

Just how nutty Tabbie truly was came as a huge shock to both James and Fred as they later cornered her in the owlrey (she was mailing her sisters) and refused to let her be. This, of course, brought on an onslaught of tears, which made James and Fred incredibly uncomfortable while Tabbie was left embarrassed and red-faced, her dignity completely abandoned.

"It was me," she wailed, sounding like a strangled cat as she choked through her sobs. James was scratching his head, looking anywhere but at the girl before him, while Fred was shuffling his feet.

"What was you?"

"I'm the onnnne…" here Tabbie stopped to sniff rather loudly in quite a disgusting manner. "I made Meadowesssss ssssick."

"WHAT!" Both Fred and James bellowed, startling a few resting owls out of their peaceful slumber. A few of the birds sent reproachful glares at the three young children, but they were soundly ignored; there were much more pressing issues at hand.

Fred recovered from the shock first and continued shouting after the initial confession. "What do you MEAN it was you? Why would you ever do that?"

"It… I didn't mean. It was an accident. It was a love potion… not puking pasties!"

Fred and James exchanged looks, while James visibly blanched. Tabbie, their conservative, reliable friend, was slipping people love potions? And of all people, Meadowes? James was pretty sure they had never even met. He was now fully convinced that Fred was right – all girls were batty.

"I just wanted him to like me. I got the potion kit from Witch Weekly! It promised success and said that it was safe. I promise, I didn't mean to make him sick," Tabbie rambled on, more tears falling as she explained. "I'm so embarrassed."
James felt a mixture of things as he watched her search for tissue in her bag; shock, anger, and pity were the most prominent. He also felt a bit of relief – at least the Slytherins hadn't been able to get to their food, and at least no harm was meant. It had all been an incredible accident.

"Please don't tell anyone," Tabbie implored after blowing her nose. "I only told you two because I feel so awful about it and Sebastian told me yesterday that you were searching for the culprit, and… I just had to tell someone." This rant brought on fresh tears, and the boys (while awkwardly patting her arm) agreed to keeping Tabitha's secret in exchange that she should stop crying at once, and she did her best, but traces of tears were still visible on her cheeks when they went back down to the common room.

They did not go unnoticed; Roth and Barvish were looking at them inquisitively. "I wish they would mind their own business," Fred grumbled under his breath as the two approached their group of three as soon as Tabbie, James, and Fred had sat down.

"Alright, Tabitha?" Gen asked.

"Just peachy," Fred replied for Tabbie, "We were practicing cheering charms… and it appears I gave Tabbie a rather bad one. Still haven't gotten those down."

"A cheering charm? You practiced cheering charms on each other?" Gen questioned, clearly skeptical.

"Yes," Fred responded without hesitation. Barvish and Gen exchanged meaningful looks.

"Well I hope you feel better Tabitha. And Frederick, you may want to keep from practicing charms that you are clearly so awful at on other people," Gen cut out, with a smiling face but scathing voice.

And with that Gen and Barvish, collectively as a whole, turned on their hells and left the common room.

Fred, who had been dying to retort to Gen, did so as soon as she could no longer hear him. "My name is not Frederick! What a wanker. And Barvish just standing there like the stupid git he is!"

Tabbie sniffed some more, and mumbled a quiet goodnight as she headed for the girls dormitory. Fred and James took out some rolls of parchment in order to hurriedly complete their charms essay that they had put off for ages and was due the following day. Before they could get too much accomplished, Will Barvish appeared at their sides, startling them both.

"Barvish, you need to learn to make some noise," James complained, after jumping in surprise at the sight of Barvish right beside him and spilling his ink all over his essay.

Barvish ignored this. "I am sorry for Gen's behavior. She seemed to think that you two were somehow mean to Tabitha… thus causing her to be upset," Weepy Will said in his equally weepy and formal voice.

"It's fine," James cut out irritably trying to salvage some of his essay. He had had enough of all of this – he just wanted to do his bloody assignment and go to sleep.

"No it is not fine!" Fred barked out. "Let Roth know that the only reason I didn't punch her in the jaw is because she's a girl… even if she's a bloody awful one at that."

"She's my friend Weasely," Barvish said seriously, and crossing his arms for effect.

"Well Tabbie's my friend. Not Roth's. You two should just mind your own business."

"Is there a problem here?" Molly Weasley was before them in all in her Prefect glory. But neither first year shrunk back.

"Yeah, there is a problem, Molly. Barvish's friend is a wanker."

"Fred!" Molly chided while Barvish growled, "No she's not."

Fred smiled, thoroughly pleased with himself for being able to rile up both of them simultaneously. He began to sing "Roth's a big fat wanker, and nobody likes her at alllllll! HEY! Roth's a big fat wanker, and she needs to …" But whatever she needed to do, no one in the Gryffindor common room found out because before Fred could complete his impromptu song, Barvish punched him in the mouth.

"TEN POINTS from Gryffindor!" Molly Weasley roared.

Without much of a thought, James quickly sent a hex towards Barvish, and it caught him right in the gut.

"James!" Molly bellowed.

"What? He hit Fred and ruined my potions essay!"

"Detention!" Molly cried out. "All three of you."

"You can't give us detention," Fred cried. "You aren't a teacher."

"No, but I am a prefect and I will be telling Professor Longbottom all about this," Molly fired back. "Now to bed, all three of you."

"But I haven't finished my essay," James whined, looking up at his furious cousin's face.

"TO BED! NOW!" Molly Weasley roared so loudly, that nearly everyone scampered up the stairs to their dormitory, especially the three first year boys towards whom her anger was directed.

The boys said not a word to each other as they made their way up to their dormitory, but James felt as though he was most unjustly punished. Sure he had thrown a disarming hex at Barvish, but Barvish had punched Fred. What was he supposed to do? And a detention from a Prefect who was your cousin was just foolishness. Foolishness!

He quickly changed for bed, too angry to even look at Fred or Barvish. That is until he heard them laughing together and froze. It was one thing for Fred to be laughing when James was in a foul mood but it was quite another to hear Barvish laugh; James couldn't remember if he had ever heard Barvish laugh at all before this.

"What the bloody hell is so funny?" James snapped at the two of them quite loudly, completely forgetting that the other boys were already asleep.

Barvish's smile was gone. "I just said that your cousin looked like a dragon when she screamed at us."

Fred chuckled and mocked the expression that Molly Weasley wore just minutes ago, contorting his face in a grotesque manner, which actually did bear a striking resemblance. The three boys again started laughing loudly.

"You know," they heard Jason say from his bed, "some of us are trying to SLEEP."

Fred snorted in response, and the laughter only grew. Jason cursed them all and threw his pillow over his head.

The week continued, James and Fred continuously putting off homework to instead plan their revenge upon Peeves. However, it was not going very well, seeing as they were constantly being interrupted by other people. On Wednesday evening, as they were bent over parchment using hushed tones, Will Barvish approached, clearing his throat to get their attention.

Things were still a tad touchy with Barvish. Although the boys didn't dwell much upon what had happened, there was still a detention to be served and James was most irritated about it. Especially since he had had to turn in a half finished charms essay.

"Barvish," James greeted tersely while Fred just rolled his eyes. Barvish inclined his head, and without another word, sat down beside them.

"Err…" James said questioningly, while he exchanged a meaningful glance with Fred.

"I am assuming you are planning your next excursion. Correct?" Barvish implored, seemingly not phased.

"Yes, we are," Fred replied matter-of-factly.

Barvish turned to look directly at James. "I hope you remember our past conversation. I'm coming along. Or else I tell Longbottom."

James gritted his teeth but gave a nod. "Right. Here's what we're going to do…"

Hermione was sick of Ron trying to look on the bright sides of things. Sure denial was great. But really, now was the time to be dealing with it.

Rosie, along with nearly every other child who possessed magic, had shown signs when she was young. There had been that random occurrence at the ice cream shop when Rosie was six; they had run out of strawberry and Rosie, in a fit of rage, had melted all of the rest of the ice cream. There had also been the time at primary, when Rosie was seven, that a little girl with whom Rosie shared no nice feelings with, had ended up with her eyebrows mysteriously scorched off after recess.

Although the last event had been slightly messy, since muggles were present, it had been oddly comforting to Ron and Hermione. It had shown them not only that their daughter had magical abilities, but quite powerful ones at that.

It was an entirely different case when Hugo was concerned. The boy was much more mild tempered than his fiery sister. He preferred books to play quidditch sets, taking after his mother.

Ron loved his son, yet he found his lack of enthusiasm for quidditch quite discerning. The fact that Hugo showed no magical ability made all of it even worse. They first played it off as a simple case of Hugo being a late bloomer. Of course, he would eventually display the signs. He was a Weasley after all.

But the years passed and nothing happened. Both parents were becoming quite frustrated by the time Hugo turned nine. Most children by this age exhibited some signs. Hugo hadn't at all.

"It's probably just because he doesn't really lose his temper," Ron had said, waving it aside. "I'm sure his magic will pop up in no time."

Hermione had agreed then. But with Hugo's tenth birthday not too far off, she felt like she could no longer deny what was right in front of her face. Her son, her baby, was a squib.

At first the sense of failure knocked her so hard so was brought to tears. Poor Hugo would be deprived of so much! He would never see the great walls of Hogwarts, never feel the power of magic course through his fingertips. He would be like something of an outcast in his own family. Her heart simply ached for him. And she couldn't help but feel that it was entirely her own fault. She was the one who passed down the muggle gene, she was the one responsible for all the pain that being a squib in a family full of wizards would cause.

Ron went on denying, but as time wore on, it began to get to Hermione until after one particularly long day at the Ministry, she couldn't take it anymore.

"So I was thinking about maybe setting aside a little fund for the kid's schooling – you know nothing big, but it'd be nice to have. That way we won't even have to think about it," Ron was saying as he set the table.

Hermione just nodded at his rambling, as she stirred the pasta with her wand.

"It's not like it will be a problem really, with only two kids at school and all," Ron continued, as he placed the napkins by each plate.

Hermione whipped her head around, before she could stop herself.

"Really, Ron? I don't quite think that's necessary," Hermione scoffed.

Ron was clearly taken aback by the sting in her voice. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean Ronald, that with only ONE child in Hogwarts, we won't have to set up a special account," She continued, as she turned back to preparing dinner.

"What are you on about?"

"ENOUGH RON! I've had enough of you pretending like everything is alright! Hugo's not going to Hogwarts!" Hermione bellowed, turning her back on the pasta and thereby forgetting about it.

"Well… of course he is!"

"Oh please!" Hermione roared. She then continued, her voice lowering as she went on, "He's nine, Ron... almost ten, and he hasn't shown a single inkling of magic. He isn't… he's a squib."

"He most certainly is not," Ron said, looking rather outraged. "He's just… He's a late bloomer, Hermione."

"Oh Merlin, that again. Believe me, the sooner you accept this, the better. I'm sick of listening to you deny it, day in and day out."

"He's not a squib."

"Fine, believe whatever you like. But I'm done here. I need to go back to my mounds of paperwork on my desk."

"Hermione, what about dinner?"

"I'm not hungry."

And with that, Hermione stormed off to her study on the second floor and locked the door. Dinner was a quiet affair that evening and the spaghetti was slightly burnt. Ron tried to shove the unpleasant thoughts out of his head as he looked at his son, who resembled Hermione so much it was uncanny, but try as he might, they didn't go away.

And Ron never realized that both children had heard the argument.

Hugo cried himself to sleep that night and for most of the nights that followed.