A/N: I realize that Katie Bell is a year younger than Fred and George in the Harry Potter world, but I've placed her in their year. I hope no one minds much. I don't take too many liberties with changing around JK's story. I am keeping it as canon as possible, but there will always be some discrepancies (as you will see in this chapter).
Read and review, please. It makes an author's day!
Cheers!
- CHAPTER THREE -
Flamingo Creams
The next morning marked the first day of classes. The boys rose surprisingly early and met me in the common room to head down for breakfast. Our timetables were arriving today, and as we were seated at Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, I noticed many students had arrived in a timely fashion in order to receive their class schedules.
Most people were still bustling about, catching up with friends they hadn't had the chance to speak to the night previously. And, despite the fact that we would soon have to commence studying and homework, the general atmosphere about the Great Hall was one of excitement.
Ron, Hermione and Harry seemed to be an exception.
As Fred, George, Lee and I tucked in to delicious servings of scrambled eggs and toast, Ron and his mates sat down with us. None of them looked particularly happy, but Harry seemed to be in an exceptionally cloudy mood.
"New third-year timetables," George said, eyeing the bits of parchment that had just appeared next to him. He shoved them over to the three of them. "What's up with you, Harry?"
"Malfoy," Ron answered, nodding his head in the direction of Draco Malfoy.
The three of us looked up to see Malfoy pretending to faint with terror, obviously imitating Harry.
"He hasn't given that up?" I commented.
"You know Slytherins," Lee said, "they can never come up with new material."
"It's always Potter this and Potter that," Fred agreed. "No offense, mate, but you're not that interesting."
Harry didn't look amused. I suppose I couldn't blame him. Word had travelled around the school over night that Harry had passed out after his encounter with a Dementor on the train. Slimy git Draco Malfoy now had a whole new audience of kids listening to his warped tales. Of course, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws tended not to listen to the embellished stories of the Slytherin students. Under usual circumstances, the serpents of Slytherin tended to be on their own within the walls of Hogwarts.
"That little git," George said through a mouthful of bacon. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the Dementors were down our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"
"Nearly wet himself," Fred agreed, filling his plate with a huge helping of pancakes.
I knew this was a lie. Fred and George were only trying to make Harry feel better. It was actually kind of heartfelt…if Fred and George could ever be such a thing. It wasn't an everyday occurrence to catch the twins behaving in such a manner. They tended to poke fun at everyone—their closest friends included. Of course, they were known for being ridiculously defensive. Harry was like family to all of the Weasleys. Seeing him mistreated didn't sit well with any of them…a feeling that spilled over to me and Lee as well.
"I wasn't too happy myself, they're horrible things, those Dementors…" said George.
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" Fred said.
"You didn't pass out though did you?" Harry snapped.
"Forget it, Harry," George encouraged. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been. He came back all weak and shaking…They suck the happiness out of a place, Dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."
"Malfoy won't be laughing once we kick his smarmy arse at Quidditch," I said, remembering that the Quidditch season kicked off very soon (I had played on the Gryffindor team replacing former Chaser Angelina Johnson when she transferred schools). "We play Slytherin first game of the season, remember?"
Harry shrugged, but looked slightly more cheerful as he turned to find that the timetables had arrived.
Fred and George had identical timetables. The four of us had eight of our nine classes all together. They were Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions and Transfiguration. Lee and I had also taken Muggle Studies—mostly for a good laugh. Neither of us had any clue what even went on in that class. We spent too much time laughing at the words in our textbook to actually pay attention to what was going on. It was good fun, really.
Fred and George, whose father was obsessed with Muggle trinkets and baubles, couldn't be less intrigued by the idea of Muggles. Sometimes they perused our books for a late-night laugh fest, but they had opted to take Divination instead. I'm not sure what possessed them to do it. Divination was ruddy stupid, and Professor Trelawney—who taught it—was a crock.
"Brilliant," George said, glancing over at my timetable. "All but one the same."
"Still can't believe you haven't dropped Divination," Lee said, grimacing in distaste.
"Trelawney's barmy, but she's a bigger laugh than Burbage," Fred said, slurping up his pumpkin juice.
"At least she's not bloody insane," Lee said.
"Look into your soul. See through the mind's eye," I mimicked, holding two of the glasses on the table over my eyes to represent the thick spectacles Trelawney wore.
"I see grave danger in your future," Lee joined in, pretending his cereal bowl was a crystal bowl.
All four of us roared with laughter.
"Blimey, we'd better get moving," Fred said, scooping up the last of his pancakes.
The boys rose from the table, grabbing their book bags as they stood.
"You coming?" George asked.
"I guess I ought to," I said. "We've got Defence Against the Dark Arts first."
"Wouldn't want the new Lupin character to find out what a bad seed you are on the very first day," Fred agreed.
"Shut it, Weasley," I said in good humour, grabbing my stuff and following the three of them out of the room.
"Yeah," Lee said, "he'll find out in a day or two anyway, so what difference does it make?"
Lee flung his arm around my neck as Fred clapped me on the back.
"You're a good sport, Christie," he said with approval. "So, what d'you reckon this new guy will be like?" he asked as we climbed a marble staircase up to the second floor of the castle.
"Hopefully not as incompetent as the last one," I said, recalling our previous teacher.
Gilderoy Lockhart had been the most vain and moronic man I had ever had the displeasure of meeting. He was a pinhead who took more interest in his own reflection than teaching us anything worthwhile. Though I supposed he was too dense to actually have any knowledge on defensive magic anyway. He had worn pink robes on Valentine's day. Pink robes. Very professional.
"Remember how much McGonagall hated him?" Lee recalled with a chuckle.
"That's because she knew he was a bloody fake," George said. "The same can't be said for the majority of the females in this castle."
"Not our Juliet, here," Lee said, nearly choking me with his arm still clasped around my neck. "The only one with brains, I reckon."
"It's because she's more male than female," George said, diving away as I turned to swat at him.
"Well, whatever the case," Fred said as I shoved Lee off of me, "its better he be incompetent than growing the Dark Lord on his head."
We all snorted in agreement at his reference to our teacher from the year before: Professor Quirrell. He had been supporting You-Know-Who—the most evil dark wizard of all time—by literally offering his body up to the Dark Lord as a sort of feeding ground to bring him back into power. Ultimately Quirrell died at the end of term—thanks to Harry Potter.
"Good point," George agreed.
"Well I guess we'll find out which side of the fence this new guy stands on," I said as we pushed our way through the Defense Against the Dark Arts door.
Upon entering the classroom we saw Professor Lupin. Seeing him again, close-up showed me that he was a young-looking wizard, although his graying hair and shabby clothing made him look slightly unhealthy. Nevertheless, he had a smile on his slightly wrinkled face nonetheless.
"Ah, right on time," he said noticing the four of us enter. "Please take a seat."
Lee picked our seats at the back of the room—our usual spot for any classroom we set foot in. I yanked my Defence book out of my bag only to shove it back inside a few moments later.
"You won't be needing your books today," Professor Lupin announced. "I think we'll start things off with a hands-on lesson."
I raised my eyebrows at Fred in approval, and he gave me the thumbs-up, clearly enthused about the no-theory lesson.
It was then that a crate rumbling in the back corner of the classroom caught my attention. Clearly there was something in there. I wondered how frightening the creature would be.
"Today you will be battling a Boggart," he said. He was answered with a general murmur of excitement and some mixed chatter.
A Boggart was not a particularly dangerous creature by any means, but it was known to be a nuisance. Disposing of one could be taken care of by any decently-skilled wizard.
The lesson proved to be a good one, as every student got a turn to try and banish the Boggart. Although not particularly dangerous, the fact that it takes the shape of a witch or wizard's worst fear causes them to be highly frightening in the wizarding world.
It was an entertaining class, watching everyone change fearsome objects into humourous trinkets. No one laughed nearly as hard as Fred and George, however, when the Boggart changed into one of their Canary Creams when it came face-to-face with me.
"It's a candy!" Fred said, roaring with laughter.
"I had feathers for a week," I protested. "Of course I'm terrified of the things. I thought I'd be half-bird for the rest of my life!"
"Rubbish," George said, wiping tears from his eyes. "We turned you back well and easy."
The class simply flew by due to the excitement of the students. Even with the boys cracking jokes at my expense at every opportunity, I had an enjoyable time. Banishing Boggarts seemed to me like it would make a good hobby.
Good fun, it was.
By the end of the class, everyone agreed that Lupin was a fantastic teacher. Not a single person had anything bad to say about him. Even his shabby appearance was forgiven after his excellent lesson.
"Better watch yourself, Juliet," George said as we exited the classroom. "I've got a Treacle Tart in my pocket. Might come out and attack you."
"A Treacle Tart won't change me into a gigantic flamingo, though, will it?" I snapped back.
"A Canary Cream doesn't do that, either," Lee pointed out.
"That's why we're calling 'em Canary Creams," Fred laughed.
"Otherwise they'd be Flamingo Creams," George said.
"Whatever," I snarled. "Anything that turns people into human-sized poultry is bad news in my books."
"Again," George said, "it wasn't poultry that you changed into…"
"You really are bad at bird identification," Fred mused.
"Shut it," I said.
The boys simply laughed.
I had a feeling no one was going to let me live that one down.
As the day progressed we found that no class seemed to top Professor Lupin's. McGonagall was just as strict and curt as always—although Lee managed to make her cheeks turn an impressive shade of maroon when he accidentally transformed his desk into a wild boar. It took the combined efforts of three Ravenclaw students and Professor McGonagall to get it back the way it was. Bloody brilliant…or so I thought, at least.
Aside from McGonagall, Binns was just as boring (and dead) as he had ever been, and Snape was even more greasy and power-hungry than the last time we saw him. Some things never change.
The good news was none of them had assigned any homework on the first day of classes. This came as a surprise to everyone. We had entered our Ordinary Wizarding Level year, and we had been expecting mountains of work. Apparently we were receiving one day off. That was a bonus, but I knew it wouldn't last. Oh well. Who am I to complain?
That night after dinner had finished, Fred, George, Lee and I seated ourselves in the common room by the fire. We were joined by Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell—two other fifth year girls and good friends of ours. Oliver Wood was also amongst us, seated alone in the far corner of the room. He was bent over a miniature Quidditch pitch—quite a common sight as the boy has been known to obsess over the game quite excessively.
"You're not at it already, are you, Wood?" George called across the room with a grimace on his face.
"Practices haven't even started yet," Fred agreed grumpily from his seat across from me. He was periodically sending prototype Canary Creams soaring through the air into my face. This was followed by screams of 'Watch out, Juliet!' and 'It's coming straight for you!' I was not amused.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt," Wood shot back.
Oliver Wood was a burly seventh year boy who captained the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He could be quite the pain in the arse during practices (he tended to take the game a little too seriously), but he was generally a nice bloke. Easy on the eyes, too…but I shan't get into that.
The rest of us exchanged exasperated looks as Oliver shuffled through bits of parchment and poked the miniature Quidditch pitch he was leaning over. As every one of us were on the Quidditch team along with Wood (save for Lee), none of us were particularly enthused about the fact that he was already planning out how best to over-exert us during practices.
"Someone's a bit cranky," Alicia commented with a roll of her eyes.
"Isn't he always?" I pointed out. "I reckon all of the early mornings and late nights have finally scrambled his brain."
"Bloody tosser," George added, making sure to allow his voice to travel to where Oliver was seated.
Oliver heard him and seemed ready to retaliate, but he reconsidered.
"All right," he said with a suspicious smile. "Since you lot are all so interested in giving your input, why don't I go over some new tactics with you?"
He rose from his seat and came over to where we were all situated by the fire. As he did so, Fred, George and I jumped up from our spots.
"Can't, Wood," George said immediately.
"We've got business to attend to," Fred said.
"Sit down," Wood demanded, giving us a stern look.
"Alicia and Katie will stay," George said, nodding towards the two girls. "They'll catch us up on everything when we get back, won't you?"
He grinned smarmily at the girls, and they glared at him in contempt.
"Excellent," Fred said, clapping his hands together as though it was settled. "We'll be off, then. Goodnight, all."
He grabbed hold of my elbow and the three of us hurried out of the common room before anyone could say another word.
"Bloody hell," George said as soon as we had climbed out of the portrait hole door. It was nearly curfew, but that fact didn't bother me…and it certainly didn't bother the twins. Rules were meant to be broken.
"He's going to be ruddy awful this year," Fred told us.
"Of course he is," I said. "He's already given Katie a talk about how this is his final year to win the cup."
"We're not going to make it through the term," Fred groaned.
Fred and George were leading me through the corridors toward the Hogwarts kitchens. It was quite ordinary for the twins to crave a snack before bed. Although I wasn't a bottomless pit like the two of them, I was usually dragged along. I didn't mind much, even though late-night eating had never been a hobby of mine. It was more of a tradition that had developed after first discovering the secret of the hidden kitchens. Why have a secret if you're not going to take advantage of it?
We arrived at the entrance to the kitchens and George reached up and tickled the pear in a painting on the wall. The pear wiggled and as it did, an opening appeared allowing the three of us to enter. The three of us stepped through the opening in the wall and made our way into the large kitchen. As we did, several house elves (who worked as cooks and bakers) came running towards us with their ears flapping wildly.
"What can Dobby do for you sirs and m'am?" one of them asked happily.
"Would you mind fetching us a snack, Dobby?" George asked him bending down.
Dobby, who only reached my knees in height, was frighteningly shorter than the twins. He was nearly short enough to be trampled by them, as they were comfortably over six feet tall. I was surprised Dobby didn't cower under their intimidating height. Instead, he only grinned up at them as though he couldn't be happier to fulfill their wishes.
"Of course Mister Weasley," Dobby said bowing so low that his nose nearly touched the ground.
"Thanks Dobby," George said, smiling kindly at him before sitting down on a stool surrounding a rather large work table. It was currently being unused, as dinner had finished and it was far too early for the elves to commence working on breakfast.
"I still don't understand how you two can eat after pigging out like you do at dinner," I commented as I pulled a stool towards me. "Haven't you heard that eating before bed gives you nightmares?"
"So that's why I've been having dreams about George dancing on a stage in a dress," Fred stated, acting as though realization had suddenly hit him.
I rolled my eyes at him as George said:
"That wasn't a dream."
"Well we already know food gives you nightmares," Fred commented, chuckling at me. "Or is it just sweets that frighten you?"
"Oh, bugger off," I said as the twins laughed and Fred took a seat on the stool next to mine.
"It's nearly curfew," I told them. "Did you bring the map with you?"
"'Course I did," Fred guffawed, as though the thought of him forgetting such a thing was preposterous. "It's the secret to our success. How could I leave it behind?"
He began emptying his pockets onto the table in front of us. He pulled out several quills, some individually wrapped sweets, a couple Canary Creams, three Dungbombs…and the Marauder's Map.
I pulled the last item towards me and tapped it with my wand.
"I solemnly swear, I am up to no good," I mumbled.
Immediately a perfect ink map of Hogwarts grounds began to draw itself out on the previously blank piece of parchment. The black ink spread to the edges of the page until an outline of the entire castle had formed. Then, tiny flags began to appear, each labelled with a name. I could see three small dots labelled George Weasley, Fred Weasley and Juliet Christie, grouped together in the kitchens. This was an extraordinary item. The Marauder's Map showed the holder where every single person within Hogwarts grounds was. Fred wasn't exaggerating when he claimed it was the secret to his success. This map had gotten all of us out of a lot of tight situations.
I perused the map, listening as Dobby brought back snacks for the boys and they began munching cheerfully. Alicia Spinnet and Oliver Wood were still in the Gryffindor common room. It seemed Katie and Lee had managed a getaway. They were each situated in their prospective dormitories.
I looked over the map in interest, surveying the small flags. It was quite empowering to know that I could see where everybody in the entire castle was at any given moment.
"Any prefects patrolling the corridors around?" George asked, swallowing a particularly large mouthful of the pie left over from the night's dessert.
"No, but it looks like that idiot Malfoy is yet again pestering Ron and his friends," I answered.
"We might have to do something about that kid, Fred," George said, "Seems Ickle Ronniekins and his friends can't handle him."
I smiled subconsciously at George's comment. The twins would never allow any harm to come to any of their brothers, even Percy, though they'd never admit to it. The fact that they hid their brotherly intuitions by calling Ron names didn't fool me. They care about him just as much as they do about each other.
"They're out of bed late," Fred commented idly. "Ron's going to have to watch it, or he'll be catching up to us in detentions."
"I think it'll take a lot of trouble-making before he can catch up to the two of you," I said with a smirk.
"You're one to talk," George said. "You've got more detentions than any female Gryffindor in our year."
"It comes with the territory," I said. "Had I chosen to befriend someone like…" I glanced down at the map, "Cedric Diggory, say, I wouldn't have so many mishaps that led to detention."
Fred snorted into a teacup he had been drinking from.
"Cedric Diggory," he repeated. "Now there's a laugh. Like you'd every hang around him."
"No need to say it like that," I said, feeling mildly offended. "I could talk to anyone I like, thanks."
"He wouldn't talk to you," George said. "He's too much of a stuck up prissy git to talk to someone as shifty as you, mate."
"That's not true," I said, although I couldn't deny that prefect Cedric Diggory was a tad on the obnoxious side. I supposed all prefects tended to be a bit stuck up. Kissing arse would do that to you, I reckon.
"You're much better off with the likes of us," Fred agreed.
"Where's the fun in obeying rules, anyway?" George commented, poking at a questionable-looking bit of gelatin.
"True," I said with a thoughtful look on my face. "But even though Diggory's a rule-abiding ponce, I daresay he's a shade or two more gentlemanly than the likes of you."
Fred and George looked aghast at my comment.
"I don't think he's ever consumed food quite like you two have done," I said, pointing at the crumbs on the front of their robes.
"You just think he's handsome," George said with distaste.
I rolled my eyes.
"He is," I said simply. "How did this argument even get started?"
"Handsome?" Fred repeated, ignoring my question entirely. "You're not going anywhere near that bloke."
He gave me a stern, hard look. George mimicked it.
"You two are barmy, you know that?" I said.
"There's no way we're letting you run off with some tosser to leave us out in the cold. Friends don't let friends gallivant with morons," Fred told me. "You're sticking with us where you belong."
I smirked at them. "Merlin, you two are touchy when it comes to attractive Quidditch blokes, aren't you?" I said.
"Why would we be touchy?" George asked. "We are attractive Quidditch blokes."
"Stupid Juliet," Fred said with a shake of his head.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, giving in. I had had enough of their banter for one night.
I looked down at the Marauder's Map again, contemplating heading back up to the tower alone when something strange caught my eye.
A small dot, followed by its accompanying flag was moving out of the boundaries of Hogwarts grounds. I did a double-take, checking to see if I had read it right. It was a name I had never seen on the map before…although it sounded oddly familiar.
There, labelled neatly in black ink was the name Peter Pettigrew.
A/N: I hope no one minds that Angelina Johnson has been (temporarily) removed from the Gryffindor Quidditch team (as well as Hogwarts entirely). I had two reasons for doing it. You'll find them out later, but as she's a minor character anyway, I didn't think it would matter much in the long run. She will be returning eventually.
I will be trying to keep to J.K. Rowling's plotline as much as possible, but FanFiction is about putting your own creativity into stories, and this is how I will be doing mine. I'm sorry if any of you live by Rowling's timeline and are offended.
Please review, it's always appreciated!