Disclaimer: confession: We are muggles (unfortunately), and Harry Potter was written by the greatest witch of all.
"We do not need magic to transform our world. We carry all the power we need inside ourselves already." - J.K. Rowling
Fred felt a dull ache at the back of his skull. His eyes stung as he looked down at the parchment he had been working on for the past couple of hours. It was getting increasingly difficult to concentrate on the paperwork he needed to finish for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' latest product. Blinking fast to clear the double vision that spawned from the extensive reading Fred was startled as a dark stain began spreading across the page.
"Bloody hell", Fred jumped to his feet brushing away the ink that pooled on his bedspread and along the corner of his well-worn pajamas, before bringing out his wand.
"Scourgify", Fred pointed it first at the mattress and then his pants, gradually vanishing away most of the ink from the two fabrics.
"Would you quiet down Fred", George groaned from beneath a pile of pillows. "I need my beauty sleep." Rolling over George buried himself deeper into the mountain of plush pillows, a slight tuft of his red hair peeked up as though it was grass - the only sign of his physical existence.
"Are you planning on going into hibernation for the rest of the season Georgie? Because let me tell you, you're going to need to go through several months to even be considered as anything close to attractive. Thankfully I don't have to live with that struggle. I'm so glad I was born as the attractive son of family."
Fred heard a thump and looked down to see one of George's pillows a foot away from the edge of his bed. Lifting his arms up in an exaggerated stretch Fred walked over to the pillow. "Your losing your touch George old boy".
"You're just jealous because I'm really the good looking one." Yawned George.
Grabbing the pillow from the floor Fred chucked it back at his twin letting a satisfied smile spread across his face when the cushion hit home, hitting George's (now revealed) head with a soft thunk.
"I need to rewrite this order form before tomorrow. I'll head over to the common room, so you can get some shut eye."
An exhausted sigh of relief was the only reply George could muster.
…
Fred frowned in confusion as he saw that a flickering light was emanating from the direction of the common room. It was rare for anyone to stay up this late, let alone during the school week. Perhaps it was a first year, huddled around the fireplace as they struggled in an attempt to finish one of Snape's obscenely long essays.
As he made his way down the stairs Fred could see the light from the fire illuminate two shadowy silhouettes.
"Ron, I'm telling you something is definitely wrong."
One of the figures moved before turning their face into the light coming from the low burning flames to reveal a red-haired boy with a cherry apple nose, a matching counterpart to his auburn locks.
"I agree." Ron's face was a mask of worry. "You don't think that foul Umbridge did something to her do you?"
Harry (Harry Potter, longtime friend of the Weasley's and the famous "Boy Who Lived") ran his fingers through his messy black hair. A nervous habit that Fred had observed Harry enact when under stress. "I know she did, she must have. You know what she did to me during my detentions. I'm just worried that she is doing something just as bad to Hermione. After all, Hermione is - as Umbridge sees it - a worthless witch with tainted blood, on top of being a best friend to the infamous Harry Potter"
"Wait", Fred interrupted. "Hermione isn't back yet?" he made his way over to Ron and Harry. A look of concern etched into his normally bright and enthused face.
Ron did little to hide the disgust that burned within him at the sight of his older brother. "Oh, don't act like you're suddenly all concerned", he spat. "You're the reason she's in this mess."
"Whoa", Fred said throwing up his hands in defense. "I swear, I never meant to get her in trouble she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Yeah, that's your problem you don't care. When it comes to your pranks it doesn't matter who takes the fall when they are in the way. After all, it's just for a laugh, right? I still haven't forgotten about the unbreakable vow you and George tried to make me do."
"Don't be so dramatic Ron we were kids we didn't understand what we were doing."
"Oh, you understood." Ron fumed.
"Whatever, obviously I never meant to get Hermione in trouble, but detention isn't the end of the world… well to everyone but Hermione."
Harry lifted his hand, Fred could see the faint outline of something pale white and pink with irritation etched into the skin's surface.
"What-what's that?" asked Fred, his brow furrowed in confusion; the slight sense of foreboding he felt lining his voice.
A dark look past over Harry's face. The tension overtook Fred, settling firmly within the pit of his stomach. Harry thrust his arm out into the firelight, illuminating the wound on his hand. "It's words. Says I must not tell lies - and we're not lying when we say this is a big deal. Umbridge made me write this into my hand, no ink necessary." He said, and a wry look twisted on his face. "She forced me to use a blood quill."
With each word Fred's face grew paler and paler. "A blood quill that's dark stuff that is." Fred's thoughts felt thick and muddled, he was having difficulty processing what Harry had just told him. He had hated Umbridge from the moment he had met the stubby salmon clad ministry spy, but even so he had never imagined that a tool like her would be capable of such evil. Umbridge was turning Hogwarts into her own personal version of hell and Fred wanted no part of it. She was abusive and egotistical, and her repugnant exterior masked an even more hideous disposition. Fred felt guilt pierce his heart as he thought about Hermione trapped and alone with that woman, being forced through unimaginable horrors. It was his fault, all his fault and now Hermione was the one paying for it.
Lifting his eyes up from the floor Fred made direct eye contact with Harry. "Do you still have that map that George and I gave you?"
…
Hermione's hand was both throbbing and stinging at once. The stabbing discomfort was shooting down from the source of her pain and out towards her finger tips. It didn't help that she was writing out notes, furiously scratching her scrawled penmanship onto a piece of parchment as she scanned the thick volume that lay next to her. A thin line of blood dripped from the message carved into her hand as she flipped to the center of the large tome.
"Hermione!" She froze trying not to breathe and attempted to quickly cover her illuminated wand with the corner of her bag. Someone must have seen her break into the library. She groaned inwardly. Why hadn't she been more careful, now she would be in even more trouble.
A beam of light emerged from behind one of the tall shelves and Hermione could sense more than see that someone was approaching her their wand outstretched. "Hermione, it's me Fred", the now identified voice whisper-yelled out to her.
Hermione hissed back her hushed reply, "Merlin's Beard Fred! Don't scare me like that, I nearly had a heart-attack! I thought you were a teacher."
Hermione felt a slight pressure on her arm as Fred bent down to whisper in her ear. "Are you okay?" Something about the tone of his voice, or perhaps the air that tickled her ear sent shivers raining down her spine.
"Yes. Yes, I'm alright how did you know I was here?"
Hermione detected a smile in Fred's voice as he responded. "You live in the library Hermione it wasn't a hard guess." He quickly sobered, "Harry and Ron are worried about you since you never returned after going to detention with Umbridge."
"Oh no they must be so worried I wasn't thinking. I should go find them." Hermione stood closing the book and stuffing the papers she had been working on into her bag.
"Wait", Fred said grabbing Hermione by the hand before she could finish putting her things away. The moment Fred's hand made contact with hers she let out a sharp shriek of pain.
Fred jumped back letting go of Hermione like he would a hot coal. "What's wrong?! What did I do?!"
"Nothing. It's nothing." Hermione slipped her left hand into her Robes hoping to conceal the obvious cause of her reaction.
"Don't say that, it's obviously something. You sounded like you're in pain!"
The beam of Fred's wand light swept over her pausing at the lump her hand made in her robes. "What are you hiding?"
Hermione's back stiffened as Fred reached out and withdrew her hand from beneath the fabric. He tried not to brush her obviously injured hand against the material.
"It's not as bad as it looks", She said doing her best to keep any signs of pain from showing on her face.
"Bloody hell", Fred swore under his breath.
Hermione's hand was a mess of torn flesh and blood, but the message etched into the skin was clear. Mudblood.