Chapter Two

Fred

Fred ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. Right, books were all that was left. This year George won their annual wizard's chess match and got four of the new school books while he only got three. Sometimes he felt bad for being a twin and adding even more financial burden on his family. Each year he and George had to buy a set of new books and split the new with the hand-me-downs for school.

Both Ron and Ginny had growth spurts outside of his mum's seamstress skills, so George had taken their two younger siblings over for new robes. Hermione was collecting all of the potion ingredients for herself, Harry, and him and his siblings. That left Fred to get the new books for him and George, as well as Harry's. Hermione had bought hers at the beginning of the summer after getting a list last year from McGonagall, who was more than happy to oblige a student planning to study over summer holiday. What an utter waste of free time.

Fred pulled out Harry's list first. The move had gone well, but Harry was kept behind at Grimmauld Place to dispel Fred's mum's worry for his safety and now it was up to the rest of them to get his school supplies for him. Normally they would have all come together with his parents, but there was so much that needed done for the Order that the Weasley children had to do their part, too.

Flourish and Blott's was the next store down and the little bell above the door tinkled when he entered. The entire store was empty, probably because it was the day before school began and everyone else had the sense to get their things early. The only other person there was an older woman manning the register, so hunched over and engrossed in her book that she hadn't noticed him enter. Fred smiled, understanding the woman's devout attention. Not that he particularly liked to read for fun, but when he and Georgie worked on new projects, they became totally engrossed. Sometimes the outside world melted away until their mum beat on their door to call them for dinner.

The thought of his mum made his smile widen as he looked for the first book on Harry's supply list. Fred knew he was being biased, but he honestly thought he had the best mum in the entire world. With a war brewing, he'd come to realize not so many people would take someone under their wing as she had Harry – Chosen One or not.

By the time the bell tinkled a second time, Fred was nearly done collecting Harry's books. For the sake of doing it, he opened one to hear the spine crack and pop, still stiff and new. Having new things was not a luxury he experienced often and he was sure Harry wouldn't care, or even notice for that matter.

Fred crossed back through the store and sat the books down next to the register with a thud. The woman looked up from her book, wide-eyed at the sudden intrusion. "So sorry," she said, words spilling together as she fumbled, grabbing a quill and going to add the prices.

"No, it's alright," Fred said. "I'm not done yet, I was just wondering if I could leave these here for now."

"Sure, sure," she said, then was immediately buried back in her book. Fred smiled warmly, then pulled his own list out from his pocket and began scanning the shelves for what he and George needed.

Down one row, near the Potions section, a girl was fumbling with her Hogwarts letter, trying to pull out the thick pieces of parchment without ripping the envelope. Sentimental girls, always trying to preserve things for memories. Fred looked down at his letter, crumpled and creased from being folded time and time again.

The girl sucked in a breath and there was a small clatter on the floor. Something tiny and metallic had fallen from the letter and he saw with much dismay that it was a green prefect badge. Gross, a baby Slytherin. He passed on to the next row before she'd noticed him and he began searching for his Herbology book. It was the most dreadful subject, but if he and George wanted to get serious about their shop, they would need a solid understanding of Herbology for developing new products.

Merlin's pants, why did they make the print on the spines so small? It wouldn't be so bad if the books weren't so high up. After a few minutes of craning his neck to try and read the Herbology titles, which were inconveniently located on the fourth shelf, his back was beginning to ache.

The bookshelf let out a great creak and he turned the way he'd come to see the girl from before practically scaling the bloody wall. A few books and her precious letter were placed with care on the floor while she balanced on the ledge of the second shelf, reaching for the fourth. He noticed then how short she was, balancing on tip-toes to try and reach the book she needed. One leg kicked back behind her, toes pointed, as if that would give her additional height.

"Here," he said, stepping next to her and reaching for the book. Even though she was standing on the shelf, he had a few inches on her. Chivalry, it seemed, won out over house prejudice.

The girl turned her head and looked him over, then turned away, nose turned up in the air. "I don't need your help," she said, managing to snag the book with her fingernails and drag it out far enough to grab. Once she had a good hold on it, she hopped down off the shelf and gave him a triumphant smirk before bending to collect her things.

Fred rolled his eyes so hard that they nearly fell right out of his head. Merlin help him, some days he just really wanted to strangle the little Slytherin brats.

"You're in my way," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes that screamed move. Genuinely stunned at her rudeness, he stepped aside without a word. Which never happened. Fred always had a comeback, but he was so taken aback that even a Slytherin could be so rude that no words could form. What was her problem, anyway? He was only trying to help.

What a nasty person.

Finally, he shook himself from the shock of it and went back to the list in his hands. Right, Herbology. An irritated scowl crossed his mouth. Baby snake was near where he'd left off his search, standing on her tip-toes to try and read the spines on the fourth shelf. Fred wasn't about to let some kid make him keep a distance. If anything, she should be wary of him.He and Georgie had developed a new game called the Hunt and, as she seemed to be a new Slytherin prefect, they'd be getting better acquainted this next year. They'd already rallied the Gryffindor troops and had an eager group excited to play.

'Know your target,' he thought with a smirk, walking toward the Herbology section and puncturing any personal bubble the girl had by standing uncomfortably close.

When she turned toward him with a confused and disgusted look, he caught the scent of overpowering perfume. Merlin, it was too much. If he stayed there too long, he'd pass out from the fumes.

"Do you mind?" she spat, rolling her eyes and going back to the books.

"Nope," Fred said with a cheeky grin, not moving. The girl huffed and went to move farther down the aisle, but he plucked the letter out of her hands and began reading it, trying to find her name. Then he'd know who one of the new Slytherin prefects was and she'd be easier to target.

"Real cute," she said, trying to snatch it back. Fred anticipated the move and spun to hold the letter away, eyes scanning the page.

Pansy Parkinson.

He'd heard the name, but never cared to put a face with it. Now he had. It was a face that wore too much make-up.

"Parkinson," he said, flipping to the next page to read her supply list. "Montague's girlfriend. Almost feel sorry for you."

Montague was in his year and was one of the most unpleasant gits that Fred ever had the displeasure of knowing. The only reason he even knew she was involved with Montague was because last year during Potions, the sixth year Slytherin boys were loudly taking bets on how long it took Parkinson to put out. Montague claimed there was no point in taking bets as he'd already gotten under her skirt, which only lowered Fred's opinion of him further.

"Sod off," she said under her breath, snatching the letter back and throwing him a heated look.

"They sent you the wrong list," he said matter-of-factly when she stepped away from him. "They've got you in seventh year Herbology."

Parkinson didn't bother turning to look back at him, instead glancing up to the Herbology books again. "It's not wrong," she said, annoyance laced in her tone. "I'm taking seventh year Herbology. Now if you'd kindly remove yourself from my general area, I can go back to buying my things."

The longer he was around her, the more he thought she and Montague deserved each other.

The competitive streak in Fred wouldn't allow things to settle there. As petty as it was, he was going to find their Herbology book first, if only because she annoyed him to no end. He towered over her and scanned the shelf with new fervor, barely concealing a smirk when his eyes landed on the title. He grabbed the first for him and George, then slid a second out into his free hand. Fred looked down at her, holding the book high above his head, and then opened his hand and let the book fall and crash at her feet.

"See you in class, snake brat," he said in a smug tone, eyes and grin both wicked and intimidating. Then he was gone, over to the next aisle to find the rest of their books. After years of run-ins with Slytherins, Fred came to realize that their power was in numbers. When alone, they were more likely to tuck their tail and run. It was satisfying how quickly she collected the rest of her books and got out of there. Fred had to give her points for spunk, though, after she passed him in the next aisle and shouldered him hard to grab her last book before leaving the shop.

Fred took his time after she left. Once he'd gathered everything, he paid the shopkeeper after throwing in The Daily Prophet. Since they'd moved to Grimmauld Place, they couldn't risk having the paper delivered, but they tried to pick it up whenever they were out.

Hermione and his siblings were supposed to meet him outside of Gringotts when they were done. There was a row of rickety benches in front that were all empty except for an older man in striped robes. The others must've still been shopping. Fred nodded to the man, who nodded back, and took an empty bench. Merlin, books were heavy. Sitting down took the strain off his back and he huffed out a breath, happy to have the weight off him. After he filled the seat next to him with their school books, he pulled out The Daily Prophet and came face-to-face with a picture of the same girl from the shop earlier.

PARKINSON CLEARS UP ALLEGED FUDGE AFFAIR

Fred read the article, then studied each of the pictures. He remembered Peter, apparently her brother, from his younger Hogwarts years. Always in detention, like he and George, though he was both older and Slytherin, so they never spoke.

If one good thing ever came from Rita Skeeter, it was that the article mentioned both Parkinson and the little Malfoy twat were the new Slytherin prefects. Montague, unfortunately, had been named Head Boy, but he wouldn't let that put a damper on their plans. He'd talk it over with George after dinner and they'd decide point totals on the prefects for the Hunt, then send out owls that evening to their players.

Fred's eyes found the bottom picture again, the one of Parkinson with Malfoy and Montague. Something just rubbed him the wrong way about it. Maybe he was biased because he loathed Montague, but there was something about the picture that he just didn't like. Parkinson seemed to jump every time the photo restarted itself and after it played a few times, Fred noticed a slight movement under her arm. Montague's hand.

It was impossible to tell in the photo, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Montague was hurting her. Each time Montague's hand moved was when Parkinson jerked and grimaced. Fred watched it probably ten more times until he was as sure as he could be.

Montague was hurting her in that picture. And that twat smiled at the camera through the whole thing. What surprised Fred the most was how angry it made him feel, despite the girl's own nasty personality toward him. Montague was nearly as tall as Fred was and in the picture she just looked so tiny standing next to him. It made him think of some mean kid that liked to hurt harmless bugs.

Though, if Parkinson were a bug, he was sure she'd have a wicked sting.