Chapter 6
Even years later, George was unable to wrap his head around how he could have passed his OWLs with the constant distraction in the shape of Eleanor Seymour.
After the written assignments for Charms, which went smoothly, they had a little break. The house tables were put back together for lunch and George's appetite returned.
A few places away from George and Fred sat their older brother Percy, studying and looking a few shades paler than he normally did.
Percy was in his seventh year and was aiming for a job at the Ministry. George knew - from all the proud letters his mum had been sending him the past year - that Percy wanted to pass his 10 Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. It was not an impossible goal, given that their oldest brother Bill had achieved his 10 NEWTs.
"Did you do okay?" asked George, while Fred loaded his plate with sausages and beans.
"It went better than I had expected," whispered Fred. "You?"
"Same."
After lunch they were ushered into the small room next to the Great Hall where they waited until they were called in for their practical examination. They were being summoned in alphabetical order, which meant that Fred and George were one of the last ones to undergo the examination.
Carefully George tried to avoid any eye contact with Slytherin's duchess while he practiced his movements for the Wingardium Leviosa spell. His wrist began to ache.
"Less swish, more flick," mumbled Fred to his brother.
"I know," snapped George, before he accidentally jabbed his brother in the ribs.
"Ouch, you don't have to levitate me," grumbled Fred, but he was able to continue, George had levitated him a few inches off the ground.
"Hey, put me down!" Around them, their fellow students burst out in laughter.
"Mister Weasley and mister Weasley, please go inside and demonstrate your levitation skills in front of the examinators instead of your fellow classmates." Professor Flitwick ushered them inside. "Please. Professor Marchbanks and Professor Tofty are available."
Fred walked straight to Professor Marchbanks, whose desk was located closest to the door. George walked over to Professor Tofty, who was by far the oldest and baldest Professor in the room.
"Is it Fred or George Weasley?" asked Professor Tofty, with a very old, shaky voice.
"George Fabian Weasley, Professor," answered George, while nervously rubbing his wand.
"Ah, the nephew of late Fabian Prewett," smiled Professor Tofty, who adjusted his glasses. "Incredible boy. Such a shame, such a shame."
George swallowed anxiously. "No need to be nervous, boy," Professor Tofty went on. "Would you like to make this teapot grow a few feet, please?"
George immediately felt at ease. "What do you mean by a few feet, Professor?" he asked politely, while he waved his wands and concentrated on his wrist movements. "Two feet of five feet?"
To be fair, George had expected a lot more of the Charms exam. Fred had outdone his Levitation Charm until Professor Marchbanks had begged him stop somersaulting his plate so wildly because she was afraid it might break.
There was no time to rest. After dinner, Fred, George and Lee immediately went to the library to revise their Transfiguration notes.
"You know, George, you may have been right. It was fun pranking the old examinators with our skills," admitted Fred when they went back to the tower.
The written assignments for Transfiguration went well. George made up some of the theories he couldn't remember. The practical examination went smoothly. Again, George ended up with Professor Tofty.
"Ah, mister Weasley again," smiled the old Professor. "Would you like to turn this mouse into a lovely china cup, please?"
"Do you have a preference to a specific pattern, Professor?" asked George. "My mum likes a classic rose flower pattern, but I consider myself more a polkadot man …"
On Wednesday and Thursday the examinations for Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts went smoothly. George almost forgot to put on his earmuffs for the repotting of his Mandrakes, but thanks to the teaching of professor Lupin, the practical examination for Defence Against the Dark Arts was a piece of cake.
"Thank Merlin we're got three days to study for Potions," said Fred, when they walked up the stairs together on Thursday after dinner.
George frowned. "I am just thankful that Snape is not our examinator. But it is not going to be easy."
"You're still on for the plan of you acing Potions and me acing Care for Magical Creatures?" asked Fred.
"Yes. I need time to sleep after Potions, so I will skip the exam of Magical Creatures. You can study for Magical Creatures during the Potions' exam, since you promised to help me study for Potions. McGonagall never told us that we were obligated to take the examinations."
Fred nodded. "Sounds like a plan."
George spent his whole weekend in the library, studying. Fred sometimes rehearsed with him to exact order of some potions that were likely to be treated on the exam. It was very late when George went to bed Sunday night, with his head spinning with potion ingredients and effects.
"Get even with Snape, George," said Fred the next morning, before George went to the Great Hall. "Good luck, little brother."
"Have fun studying," answered George, who felt nauseous.
The writing assignment was not easy, but George could almost answer any question without much doubt. The practical examination went better than he had hoped, since Snape wasn't in the room to breathe over his shoulder.
Maybe, just maybe, he might have gotten himself an O. At least his potion had the same colour as the one Eleanor Seymour had concocted.
"So, how did it go?" asked Fred as soon as George passed through the portrait hole.
"Better than we hoped for. But now I just want to sleep for a bit …" George patted Fred's shoulder and walked straight to his dorm.
George slept for a solid fourteen hours. When he woke up, the first rays of sunshine crept waveringly into the Tower of Gryffindor.
Lee and Fred were still asleep. A quick glance on his watch told him it was just past five o'clock in the morning. His stomach grumbled and slowly George got up.
On his nightstand stood the letter to his brother Charlie, which he had finished the past weekend.
Why not, he thought by himself and grabbed the letter on his way out.
He probably was the first one, but when he almost reached the top of the stairs to the Owlery, he could hear an all too familiar voice.
"Here, wait, Pegasus. I still need to add the stamp." George heard some low, agreeable screeching and a fierce sway of a wand. "There. And please, for the love of God and all that's holy, don't bring it immediately to Father's desk. The letterbox, Pegasus, please, in it. And be on time, before the mailman. And not on the letterbox, you hear me, Pegasus? In the letterbox. I know you can do it."
The screeching became an outraged hoot. "Yes, yes, I know. It's just that Mother cannot find out, you know that." George heard the soft ruffles of feathers and then the spreading of wings.
George kept perfectly still and slowly counted to ten. He didn't even dare to breathe.
Only then did he go in.
Just as he suspected, Eleanor Seymour stood abandoned in the Owlery. She leaned her head against a stone pillar and stared into the distance across the lake.
If George had even the tiniest sense of what he had heard, he knew enough. He scraped his throat.
"Goodmorning, Your Grace."
From the bulge of her cheek, he could see that his intention had succeeded. She smiled.
"Weasel Gryffindork."
"At your service, ma'am." He saluted and this time Eleanor's smile became a sincere laugh.
Her dark ebony locks fell loosely over her shoulders. The sun slowly rose behind the mountains.
Because it was so early, neither of them wore their school uniforms yet. George wore a worn out jeans and a soft T-shirt. Eleanor on the other hand wore expensive looking trousers and a blouse made from very fine fabric that clung to her curves.
"I didn't know any Gyrffindorks aspired to take classes with Professor Severus Snape for two more years out of their own free will," he heard her say while George tried luring one of the school owls down.
"Oh, well, you know. Making sure that my brother and I can sell our own Amortentia legally, without poisoning our future customers."
"Amortentia, now? Are your seducing skills lacking that badly?"
George smiled. "I believe my sweet smile is enough to seduce any witch. Natural charms." He flashed a quick smile at her before turning his attention to the owl that flew down towards him.
"What are you doing up so early anyway?" asked George, while he fumbled with folding his letter.
He could almost physically feel the burn of Eleanor's eyes measuring him up as he attached the letter for his older brother to the outstretched leg of the barn owl.
"Making sure that my father receives his weekly letter from his daughter up in boarding school in Switzerland with the normal Muggle mail."
George's fingers suddenly struggled with tying the knot smoothly. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly, not daring to turn his head around.
"My father doesn't know I'm a witch." Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't matter.
George wanted to say something, but Eleanor held up her outstretched hand. "Don't, Weasel. Just don't. I don't need your sympathies. Save them for someone who actually cares."
She stomped off and he could her the angry clicking of her heels as she made her way down the stairs.
George stood in the Owlery for a very long time.
During the Astronomy practical examination on Wednesday night Eleanor didn't deign to glance at him. She sat very silently behind her telescope and only moved to re-adjust her tripod.
While filling in his chart, he kept glancing at Eleanor. The way the moonlight hit her hair and illuminated her soft skin was like a beacon for him.
George frowned and turned his attention back to his own telescope. He pressed his eye back to his telescope and tried to find the sign of the zodiac Orion, looking for the moon.
He had never been so glad when Professor Tofty announced the time was up and George could turn in his chart.
Thursday was dedicated to the only two exams without the practical examinations. Before lunch they sat History of Magic, in which George made up the most bloodiest Troll War since Elfric The Bald. In the afternoon they sat their theoretical examination of Muggle Studies.
George would never admit it to his brother, but he really like Muggle Studies. The world of Muggles had always fascinated him and he had often sneaked to the shack of his father. He knew that Professor Charity Burbage only asked for an Acceptable to take his NEWT.
"We're done," breathed Fred after they handed in their examination form. "Freedom, it never tasted so sweet."
George smiled. "What do you think, brother dearest, of a nice prank to celebrate?"
"Well, I thought you'd never ask."
