Wren felt sick all morning.
Ever since Fred and George had been escorted off to the Hospital Wing by Lee Jordan, she felt as if her stomach was twisting in on itself. She supposed this was a natural reaction to sending your friends to the Hospital Wing--a theory that was further solidified throughout the day as it seemed like everybody was talking about the failed attempts to enter the Tournament. Fred and George were not the only ones thwarted by the ageline, but their story was by far the most popular throughout the castle. Wren had even heard a group of ghosts gossiping about it, and several portraits had stopped her on her way to the common room to interrogate her about the incident and settle a debate as to whether their beards had gone down to their waist or their ankles.
The Common Room was not much safer in terms of avoiding talk of the Failure. Lee Jordan appeared to be holding court in the corner, recounting the story from his perspective to an enraptured audience, and even up in her room, Wren couldn't seem to get away from the terrible feeling that had made itself right at home in her core. Even her Potions' homework wasn't enough to distract her from the fact that Fred and George still hadn't made their way up to the common room yet, and it was nearing lunch.
Which was why right before noon, Wren found herself hovering outside the Hospital Wing.
It seemed to be busier than normal, which wasn't that much of a surprise, given how many names of unsuccessful entrants Wren'd heard other students throw around. She had to admit though, that she was a bit surprised at how raucous the noise was. Wren edged a bit closer to the open door, one voice rising above the others in an uncanny imitation of an old Scottish woman. "Albus, last year a known murderer and pack of Dementors roamed the school, and the year before that the heir of Slytherin opened the Chamber of Secrets. Perhaps, we could open it up to all students turning 17 this year?"
A slow measured voice responded, "Now, now, Minerva. Dementors and Basilisks are one thing, but a student died over 200 years ago from this Tournament. And even though it's now Ministry sanctioned, and we could potentially make it a tad bit safer, we must remain true to the spirit of the games, and only students who are of age can enter."
"But Albus, a student died--"
Footsteps rounded the corner, and Wren jumped back whirling on the couple who just came down the hallway.
Not a couple.
The bronze haired boy who was smirking as he said something to the girl walking beside him was Simon. He looked up from the blonde, his eyes landing on Wren who was just a step away from entering the Hospital Wing, and surprise quickly overtook his features. Stil, he didn't look quite as surprised as Wendy Fairchild did, her cheeks turning a delicate pink.
"Wren?" Simon said, as if he couldn't believe that she was actually there. Then again, she could count the number of times she'd been to the Hospital Wing over the past six years on her fingers, so maybe it wasn't entirely unreasonable for him to be so shocked. Her eyes were drawn once again to Wendy, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable and very trapped. Simon stepped away from the blonde and towards Wren. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"
Her eyes shifted to the Hospital Wing's door, the noise suddenly quelled by the sound of a sharp admonishment. "I had a stomach ache, is all," Wren said, stepping further away from the door. "Hi Wendy."
"Hi Wren," Wendy greeted, her eyes darting between the couple as the tension between the three thickened. The blonde Ravenclaw licked her lips, her eyes darting for Simon as if he'd provide a way out of the awkward situation but he was focused on Wren, the worry gone from his face, and a cool stoniness taking over in its place. A small sigh escaped Wendy. "Well, I best be going. Thank you again for the help, Simon," she offered a brief strained smile at the couple before hurrying off down the hallway.
Wren looked down at the stones between her and her boyfriend, eyes studying the grooves and dimples.
"I heard about what happened to Fred and George," Simon remarked, and Wren's stomach rolled. Words bubbled up, excuses and explanations and apologies all at the tip of her tongue as she looked up at him, but he continued. "I'm sure you see now why I didn't want you to do it."
Wren flushed and nodded her head, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Simon I--"
"It's ok, Wren," Simon cut her off, stepping forward and folding her into his arms. "I forgive you." He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hand. "At least you realized how foolish it'd be and pulled out."
Wren offered up a shaky smile which dissolved as Simon bent forward and kissed her, before releasing her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe next time, you'll just listen to me."
The sick feeling in her gut was worse, her insides churning in protest even as she kept her lips sealed shut, keeping her confession trapped inside. Simon looked down at her, seeming to note her silence.
He sighed, withdrawing his arm from around her. "You might as well just ask, I know what you're wondering."
Wren's brow furrowed in confusion as she cast him a look. "What I'm wondering?"
"Wren, I'm not stupid. I saw the look you gave me with Wendy, and I see the look you're giving me now. You're easy to read."
Realization dawned on Wren at what he was implying, and she quickly stumbled over her words. "Simon, I--"
"She needed help with her Alchemy work, and that's it. Nothing happened."
"I know--" Wren started again, but Simon cut her off.
"I made one mistake," Simon said. "One. And you and I both know that you're just as responsible for it happening as I am."
Wren looked to the ground, nodding her head. "I know. I…" she trailed off. "You're right. I shouldn't have even wondered. I'm sorry."
Simon sighed, his arm going around her shoulders once more. "I forgive you, I just wish you'd believe me that I love you."
"I do," Wren said, looking up into his face. "I know you love me."
He nodded solemnly. "More than anyone else ever could," he said before pressing his lips to hers and whisking her away to lunch.
Wren spent most of her lunch picking at her food and absentmindedly listening to Alicia's ranting about her parents and their post-Hogwarts desires for her and to Katie's wondering about whether everything Professor Moody did was strictly legal.
If the other girls noticed that Wren hadn't really touched her food or seemed to be preoccupied, they didn't say anything. It's possible a look was shared, but she didn't catch it.
Instead, she sat there distracted until she noticed her dorm mates getting up from the table, and she did the same, leaving behind a half full plate to follow them up to the common room.
There, she lost four games of Exploding Snap in a row, and was in the middle of losing a fifth when Fred and George burst through the portrait hole, announcing their arrival with a chorus of "Heyyyyy".
Wren's head snapped to them, watching as the twins modeled their newly clean-shaven faces, stroking the smooth skin of their chins to a smattering of applause and laughter.
Fred scanned the common room, his eyes locking on hers once he found her. He navigated his way around the couches and chairs to her. "There she is…" Fred said as he approached, and she flinched. Alicia tapped the stack of cards and looked entirely unapologetic as Wren glared at her.
"Cheater."
"Hardly," the other girl returned, twirling her wand between her fingers.
Fred plopped himself next to Wren as George sat next to Alicia, throwing himself into her lap. She shoved him off, and with a dramatic sigh, he switched to laying in Angelina's.
"About time you're back," Angelina said, tugging at George's ear. He winced, swatting her hand away. "How long does it take to fix a couple of beards anyway?"
"Longer when Dumbledore interrogates us for the secrets of our near success," Fred said, catching Wren's startled glance. "Don't worry--we told him we couldn't divulge any information."
"He seemed to understand but mentioned he'd be much obliged if the recipe should ever end up under his office door," George said with a grin at Wren.
She flushed, shaking her head. "It didn't even work. I mean you two could have ended up--"
"Maybe it didn't work, Fred cut her off. But no one else even made it through the age line. We're the only ones to have crossed it."
"It was a good bit of magic, Wren," George agreed.
"But it just as easily could have landed you in the Hospital Wing for more than a few hours," Wren argued, and the group exchanged looks.
"I thought we'd been over this," George said, sitting himself up. "It was a minor risk, yeah, but we've taken bigger risks with our own testing."
"Besides, I doubt Dumbledore would have put any enchantment on the Goblet that could harm students if the whole point was to keep underage witches and wizards from entering," Angelina reasoned.
Wren wet her lips, turning this over in her mind. She still couldn't help but feel guilty for her failure, but what made her feel even worse was not the fact that she could have hurt Fred and George, but that she was disappointed her potion hadn't succeeded.
"Come on," Fred said, nudging her shoulder with his own. "You've got to admit, it was at least a bit thrilling to give it a go."
The corner of her lips traitorously twitched up. Around her, her friends made sounds of approval, George even reaching forward to shake her leg excitedly.
"He really came to ask you about the potion?" Wren asked, and Fred nodded solemnly.
"Seemed genuinely interested too," George added.
Wren offered a real smile then, and the group seemed to (accurately) take that as an end to the conversation.
The rest of the afternoon passed happily. George finally ended Alicia's streak in Exploding Snap and Lee came into the Common Room about an hour later and recounted recent would-be entrants' failures for them. Now that Wren wasn't wracked with worry and guilt with Fred and George, she was able to laugh along with the rest of the group, especially over Lee's dramatic impersonation of Milicent Bulstrode breaking down into hysterics over her newfound beard.
By the time it was dinner, the events of the morning felt like they had passed weeks ago, and Wren traipsed down to the Great Hall with the group more than ready for the Halloween feast.
She wasn't, however, ready for the selection of Champions. Her heart stilled for a moment as Cedric's name was pulled from the cup, her eyes skipping over the group of Hufflepuffs shaking his shoulders and cheering, and instead focusing on Nora.
If Wren were in Nora's shoes, she'd be pale. But instead her cousin was alternating between clapping loudly and cupping her hands around her mouth to cheer.
She was only silenced when a fourth name came out of the cup.
In fact, the whole Great Hall went quiet for a beat. And then another one. And then the whispers started, moving through the room like wind rustling through the trees.
"Harry got his name in?" Angelina hissed next to Wren.
"How?" Katie whispered back, her eyes moving to Wren, but Wren was already focused on Harry, whipping his head around with surprise and saying something hushed and quick to his friends. Dumbledore called him up to the front table and her eyes followed his path, a clawing tightness in her chest as she watched him pass behind Fred.
How had he, a fourth year who by all accounts was not the smartest in his year, managed to get across the age line when the combined minds of her, Fred, George, and Lee hadn't managed it?
Her jaw clenched as a hand closed over hers. "Hey," George said, leaning across Angelina to get her attention. "If You-Know-Who wasn't able to kill him as a baby, you won't be able to now, even with that look."
The joke, coupled with Harry's disappearance into the chamber behind the professors' table, drew the small group's attention to Wren.
"I'm not trying to kill him," Wren protested as Dumbledore and other adults disappeared into the back room as well. With the disappearance of those in charge, the hall grew noisy once more, the chatter electric. "I just don't understand how he got in is all."
The look of mild annoyance on Fred's face melted as he took her in. "She's jealous!"
"Am not," Wren huffed.
"Come on, Wren, a win for Harry is a win for Gryffindor," Angelina said, but her smile was a bit tight, and Wren felt a bit embarrassed at being jealous when Angelina, who had legitimately entered, hadn't been chosen.
"And more than that," Fred said, bending his head forward conspiratorially. "It's a reason to party."
By the time Harry Potter, the guest of honor and very reason for the party, arrived at the Gryffindor common room, the party was in full swing. Students had come together to lay out a solid stash of snacks on a few tables, and Fred and George had procured a few cases of Butterbeer in a suspicious amount of time. This of course meant that everyone was almost vibrating with excitement to greet Harry. Indeed, all of Wren's friends left her the moment he came through the portrait hole to bombard him with well wishes and questions.
Wren, for her part, hung back with Alicia, making her way through a bag of crisps while staring warily at Harry. "Reckon he'll tell anyone how he did it?" Wren asked as Alicia took a long sip from her butterbeer.
"Harry?" Alicia asked, her voice a bit raw from the carbonation. "Probably not. He's rather tight-lipped. It'd be easier to get it out of Ron."
Wren nodded, scanning the room for the twins' younger brother. As her gaze skipped from redhead to redhead, none of them belonged to Harry's best friend. "Where is Ron?"
"This is really bothering you, huh," Alicia asked, her expression sympathetic. "I know you wanted it to work, but honestly Wren, it was always a long shot. The twins knew that."
Wren had no intention of trying to get Ron Weasley to tell her how Harry entered, but she would have been lying if she dismissed Alicia's claim outright.
She had known it'd been a long shot too. She always had a healthy dose of skepticism throughout the endeavor.
But she couldn't get rid of the small, irritating feeling of disappointment that scratched at the back of her mind.
She doubted Dumbledore would want her potion recipe now that someone had had an actually successful workaround.
"Why the long face?" Fred asked, walking back up with George. Over their shoulders, Wren could see Lee tying the Gryffindor banner around Harry's shoulders.
The two followed her gaze and Fred snorted. "Still on about that, then?"
"No," Wren said petulantly. The twins exchanged a knowing look, and she scowled, swatting at them. "I'm not!"
Fred's eyes darted over her shoulder, and she whipped around to catch Alicia mid-nod before pretending she was sipping from her drink.
"I'm not!"
Fred and George exchanged another look, although this one seemed to be more of a conversation between two pairs of eyebrows than just a look.
"Alicia, we're stealing Wren," Fred announced, wrapping an arm around Wren's shoulders and guiding her forward before Alicia could even respond to the statement. George trailed after the two of them, the group stopping in a relatively quiet nook of the common room, away from the thick of the party.
"It has recently come to our attention that you, Wren Collings, are a natural born inventor."
Wren quirked an eyebrow, staring dubiously back at Fred. "What?"
"You're upset that you didn't find the solution to the age line and Harry did," George filled in.
"Plus, you greatly enjoyed the plotting involved in making our potion," Fred nodded.
"So we were talking…" George started
"And we think you'd be an excellent addition to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes product development team," Fred finished with a smile.
"The what?"
"Fred and I have always dreamed of opening a joke shop. We've been working on a few products over the summer," George explained.
"Fake wands."
"Tom-tongue toffees."
"Trick quills."
"And we think that your mind and potions and Herbology expertise would help us with our next venture," Fred said.
"Your next venture?" Wren repeated.
"Puking pastilles," the twins chorused with a nod.
"Puking pastilles." What they were proposing was so ridiculous, Wren wasn't able to come up with a coherent original thought. Instead she was turning the idea over in her mind--product development with the Weasley twins. It was true she'd enjoyed developing the aging potion with them, but that had been a one time thing. A deal. And even then it hadn't worked. Now they wanted her to come up with entirely original recipes for members of the public to eventually consume? She could poison all of London. Or worse, she could--
"You're spiraling," Fred said matter of factly. "I can see it right here," he said, poking at the crease between her eyebrows, and Wren slapped his hand away. He grinned at her. "Come on Wren, this is an exciting new venture. Nothing to get too in your head about at this stage."
"I just don't think I--"
"If this is going to be another self-deprecating statement, I should warn you. You're wasting your breath," George interrupted, holding up a hand.
"We happen to think you are nothing short of a genius, and there isn't anything you can say to convince us otherwise," Fred added.
Wren blinked at them. "I--" they cast her reproachful looks and she switched directions. "Thank you."
Fred smiled. "I'm going to take that as confirmation that you're in."
Wren shook her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It would be easy to tell them no. To stick to the plan of just studying for her classes and spending free moments trying to track down Simon. But she didn't want to.
"Yeah," Wren said with a tentative smile. "I'm in."
While working with Fred and George on the creation of puking pastilles was fun and often led to Wren laughing so hard her sides hurt, it was still, at its core, work. She was fairly certain she had never used her brain so much. Not even for NEWT-level Potions or Transfiguration.
Still, there were far worse uses of her time than being tucked away in the common room or a corner of the library, drawing up plans and theories with Fred and George and sometimes Lee.
"I need a break," Wren announced, placing her book on top of the stack they had pulled.
"Breaks are for the faint of heart," George said automatically, not even bothering to look up from his reading. It had been the line the three used to keep each other on track.
"I fear I'm going into heart failure," Wren answered, dramatically, dropping in her chair. "If I have to read another line about common Italian plants' side effects, I think my heart will finally give out."
"Alright Georgie, I think a break's in order. We don't want poor Wren's heart to explode," Fred said, snapping his book shut.
"So when Wren's going through heart failure, we get a break, but when I'm dying of boredom, you just eulogize me."
"That's about the size of things," Fred nodded, and George grinned, shutting his book and looking over at the two. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he had the chance, a look of curious confusion crossed his face.
"Hullo," he greeted, and Wren turned to see Simon walking towards the group.
"Hi, love," Wren smiled up at Simon. His bronze hair curled above his eyes, and she reached out a hand for him. He shot a quick look at her and then at the Weasley twins, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets. Wren curled her hand back in, resting it on her shoulder as if that was what she intended to do. "What are you doing here?"
"Searching for my girlfriend," Simon offered a small smile. "Have you seen her?
"Simon," Wren laughed lightly as Fred and George exchanged mortified looks at the excuse of a joke.
"Oh! I hardly recognized you. Haven't seen you in ages."
"Ha ha, very funny," Wren smiled and let out an exhale as if he was joking, but he had that look in his eyes that she knew too well. He turned to Fred and George.
"So you're the reason my girlfriend's gone missing."
"What can I say, our presence is a delight." It wasn't the tone of Fred's voice as much as the look of George's face that made her stomach drop.
"Thank you for sharing Wren with us," George stepped in. "Must be hard to let this one go."
"Indeed," he swiveled to Wren. "Speaking of which, have a second?" Simon asked, flashing a seemingly charming smile. Wren looked up at him, and a flash of fear, which she hoped was unnoticeable, crossed her face. She slowly nodded.
"For you? Always," she said, standing up to follow him. Had he heard about George? What did he want? She had heard that tone of voice before, and it never ended well. She followed him a couple of rows over so that it was deserted and nobody would hear them.
"I didn't realize you three were so close," he commented, his voice still friendly, but in the dangerous phase. If Wren thought that her research was going to give her heart failure, she was certain that this conversation might give her a heart attack. It pounded away in her chest, as she racked her brain for an explanation. She had a feeling after Simon's reaction to the aging potion that he wouldn't particularly care for the truth.
"We're not that close," Wren dismissed. "We've just been studying together this year, is all. They're a whiz at Charms, and honestly this NEWT schedule is keeping me so busy--"
"Wren," Simon stopped her. "Don't insult my intelligence."
"What?"
"You're lying. I can see it all over you. What are you really up to with them?"
"What am I really up to?" Wren repeated, her heart beating faster. "Studying. Simon, where is this coming from? Why are you upset?"
"Why am I upset?" Simon asked. "After how you acted when you saw me walking down the hall with Wendy? I should have seen that you were projecting--accusing me of cheating while you're off spending your afternoon in a dark corner of the library with the Weasley twins!"
"Simon, it's not like that. You've just been busy and I—" Wren started to argue, jerking away and shutting her mouth quickly as Simon shoved a finger in her face.
"Do not turn this into my fault."
"It's nobody's fault. There's nothing wrong here!" Wren began to grow hysterical. "You're reading into things that aren't there."
"So I'm crazy?" He dropped his hand, but moved closer to her, and she took a half step back.
"No, of course not," Wren held her temples "I just--there's no reason to be upset. I would never choose them over you. I-I'll go tell them I have to go. We can go to the courtyard, or wherever you want. "
"Don't even bother. I don't want to be your pity pick. Just go back to them," Simon scoffed, shaking his head. "At this point, I'm used to being left behind. Makes sense you'd do it too."
"Simon, I'll come with you. Just let me get my stuff. Please--" Wren reached forward grabbing his arm, and he snatched it away from her, sending her toppling into a bookshelf. A few books came loose, tumbling to the floor in a messy pile.
"You always do this," Simon's lip curled. "Make a mess of everything. I wonder if your precious twins will put up with half the things I do." Wren watched him leave, trying to blink back the tears forming in her eyes. He was right. She did always make a mess of things. She knew what she should have done--what she should have said. She should have packed up as soon as he came over. She should have told the twins she'd see them in class and told him she had more than a second--she had hours for him. She shouldn't have argued.
Wren wiped away a few tears as she bent down to begin picking up the books and finding their proper places. Footsteps approached the end of the aisle, and her head snapped, hoping Simon had come back.
"Everything ok?" Fred asked, standing at the end of the aisle where Simon had been moments before. Wren quickly glanced back at the book she was shoving into the shelf, as if that would hide her splotchy red face.
"Fine," her voice came out high and not quite as lighthearted as she'd hoped.
"And that's why you've decided to take up a part time job as a librarian?"
She let out a sigh that could maybe possibly be construed as a laugh. "No, I just--um--we stumbled into the books." She hoped that would explain the red face if not for Simon's conspicuous absence.
"Ah," Fred nodded, and she could hear the disbelief in his voice. "And where is the other half then?"
"He…he had to run off. Prefect duties. I told him I'd handle it."
Fred's eyes rested on her, as she picked up another book and shoved it between two other ones, not able to even concentrate on making sure they were in alphabetical order. She couldn't understand why Fred had taken it upon himself to interrogate her. He was silent even as she picked up another book, as if for once he were carefully choosing his words.
"Must've run off pretty quick. I came as soon as I heard the books."
It was Wren's turn to furrow her brow at him. "Why?"
"What happened here?" George appeared over Fred's shoulder, stopping him from continuing the sentence.
"Simon couldn't keep his hands off Wren," Fred said to George. Wren flushed from the choice of words.
George wiggled his eyebrows at Wren. "Kinky."
She turned redder if possible and Fred's jaw ticked.
"Need a hand?"
Despite the fact that George asked the question, Wren looked at Fred. "That would be lovely."
George moved around Fred and picked up the last few books, sliding them onto the shelf.
"Thanks, George," Wren smiled. He reached over and squeezed her hand. His brow furrowed slightly. Wren looked over his shoulder at Fred who caught her eye before turning and heading back towards their seats. She looked back at George and offered a tight smile, standing up. "Let's go back to take our break."