Fred Weasley was completely and undeniably extraordinary.

There was no question about it. He could make any joke funnier, any prank more elaborate, and only one person had ever managed to make trouble the way he did. It wasn't arrogance; it was just fact. It was his natural charm, his endless wit, and, of course, his unparalleled knack for chaos that set him apart.

But lately, there was one little thing that Fred couldn't shake— one thing that had managed to worm its way into his thoughts, no matter how much he tried to avoid it. It was the quiet, subtle pull that led him to think about her when he should be thinking about anything else.

Cassiopeia Valencourt.

It was ridiculous, really. She wasn't special — she was just...her. She didn't have the dazzling smile that made boys trip over their own feet, nor did she wear those impractical dresses some of the Slytherin girls favored. She wasn't loud, didn't shout at the top of her lungs to make sure the world heard her. But there was something about her that had kept Fred fascinated from the first moment he saw her.

It had been nearly two years now, and Fred had no clue why.

"Oi, Fred!" George's voice pulled Fred out of his thoughts, a reminder that his twin still had a knack for interrupting at the worst possible times. "What's got you spaced out over there?"

Fred shot George a grin, but it was half-hearted. "Just doing some planning for our next big trick."

"You've been doing that for the past hour," George raised an eyebrow. "What's really going on? You're not still thinking about Cassie, are you?"

Fred's stomach flipped at the mention of her name. He'd been caught. But George didn't seem to notice how Fred's face faltered for just a second before he smirked.

"Of course not. She's a target, that's all." Fred waved it off, throwing his arm casually over his the other's shoulder as they walked down the corridor. "Just another bit of fun."

"Right, 'cause you haven't been going on and on about her and your plan for the last two weeks," George muttered, but Fred could hear the teasing in his voice. Fred merely pursed his lips and swatted the side of George's head. "Alright, alright, no need to get defensive. I get it — she's special. Just don't let it get too far, yeah?"

Fred fought the flush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it."

George would never understand — not yet. Fred wasn't ready to admit to anyone, least of all George, that this was different. That he'd been quietly and ridiculously in love with Cassiopeia Valencourt for nearly two years. That no matter how many pranks he pulled, how many jokes he cracked, she had this way of sneaking into his thoughts.

It was pathetic, really. He should be over it by now.

Fred entered the dining hall the next morning, the usual chatter of students buzzing around him. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the Gryffindor table where his friends were shoveling down breakfast.

But there was one thing that made Fred's gaze wander from the usual chaos — the sight of Cassiopeia Valencourt sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

She was quiet, as always, sipping her juice and chatting with a few of her housemates. To the untrained eye, she was just another fourth-year student, someone who blended into the background. But to Fred, she was...different. Something about her always managed to stand out, even if she never seemed to try.

Cassie wasn't like the others. He'd learned that much over the years. He had tried for months to explain away his feelings — at first, it was just curiosity. She was so...ordinary, but in a way that intrigued him. She didn't keep the flashy belongings as the other girls did, nor did she act like she needed constant attention. And yet, she had this quiet elegance about her that made Fred's mind wander more than he cared to admit.

But it wasn't just that. No, it was the way she carried herself. How she didn't need to speak loudly to be heard, didn't need to be the center of the crowd to be noticed. It made Fred feel like he'd been looking at the world all wrong — like maybe there was a way of being extraordinary without all the noise.

But other days, it stirred something quieter in him, something that made his chest tighten in a way he didn't quite understand. Some days, he would look at her and feel like she could vanish into thin air, and no one would notice. She moved through the world so quietly, so delicately, that it was almost like she was made of mist — there one moment, gone the next.

And that thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Because Fred Weasley wasn't one to miss things. He didn't miss a joke, a prank, or the opportunity to leave a room ringing with laughter. But with Cassie, it felt different. He didn't want her to disappear; he wanted to hold onto every little piece of her, to figure out why she made him feel so completely unlike himself.

He watched her now, his gaze tracking every little movement she made. She laughed softly at something one of her friends said, and the sight sent an unexpected warmth flooding through Fred. It wasn't fair — he didn't want to feel like this. He didn't want to feel...attached. He should be focused on his plans, on causing trouble. But all he could think about was her.

She had no idea how often he watched her — no clue how his thoughts always seemed to circle back to her, how he spent more time than he should wondering why she wasn't like the others. Was it because she didn't try? Or was it because he could see something in her that she never showed anyone else?

Fred shook his head, trying to snap out of it. Focus, Weasley.

The problem was, he had been focused on her for the past two years. Every time he tried to move on, every time he tried to distract himself with a new trick, she was there, always at the edge of his thoughts.

And now, he had to do something about it.

Fred turned to George, who was still stuffing his face with food, and leaned in. "I've got an idea for a prank."

"Oh, here we go," George said with a grin. "Another one of your brilliant schemes?"

Fred leaned in closer, speaking just loud enough for George to hear. "It's for Cassie."

At this, George simply gave him a look and turned back to his meal, as if it could ever be more interesting than what Fred had planned. "You've been planning to prank her for ages. I've heard all about it."

Fred grinned. "This one's going to be perfect."

As Fred began outlining his idea to George, he couldn't help but feel a thrill run through him. A prank on Cassie wasn't just about getting a laugh anymore. It was something more — something that felt like it was going to shift everything. But he didn't know how yet.

He'd have to work it out.

Cassie was tricky — he'd learned that the hard way after a few failed attempts against her. Every time he thought he had her, she'd pull something out of thin air, completely dodging his tricks without even realizing what was happening.

While Fred preferred his magic to be as loud and chaotic as himself, Cassie was different — quiet, graceful, controlled. It wasn't grand, like some of the more dramatic displays of power he'd seen from others. It was subtle, almost effortless. And it had completely caught Fred off guard more times than he'd care to admit.

But that just made her all the more interesting.

Fred grinned, eyes gleaming as he and George hashed out the details of their plan. Every prank had its purpose — sometimes to lighten the mood, sometimes to challenge authority — but this one felt different. This one was personal.

Cassie had no idea what was coming, and Fred couldn't wait to see how she'd react. It wasn't about catching her off guard or proving himself better at the game — it was about understanding her. Watching how her mind worked, how she moved, how she somehow made the simplest things seem extraordinary.

This was more than just a prank—it was a puzzle. And Fred Weasley loved puzzles.

George elbowed him. "Oi, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Fred asked, though he knew exactly what George meant.

"Staring. You're worse than a lovesick Hufflepuff."

Fred shoved a piece of toast in his mouth to avoid responding, but George didn't let up.

"Look, mate, if you're this hung up on her, why not just ask her out? Or, you know, stop pretending it's about a prank."

Fred swallowed hard, the toast suddenly feeling like a brick in his throat. "It is about the prank," he said firmly, though even he wasn't sure if he believed it anymore. "And speaking of which, we've got work to do."

George rolled his eyes but didn't push the subject further. Instead, they turned their focus to the plan, whispering ideas back and forth as the plates of food gradually cleared from the table.

"Something simple to start," Fred said, tapping his fingers against the wood. "Something she won't see coming but will get her attention."

"Dungbombs?" George suggested with a grin.

Fred shook his head. "She could just clear it away. Besides, it's too predictable. This has to be...elegant. Subtle. Like her."

George snorted. "Subtle? Since when do we do subtle?"

Fred ignored him, his mind already racing ahead. Cassie wasn't like their usual targets. She wouldn't fall for the classic tricks, the loud explosions or messy traps. She'd deflect whatever he threw her way, probably without even realizing she was doing it.

As he listened to George toss out suggestions, Fred's thoughts kept circling back to her. Cassie, with her quiet defiance and subtle brilliance, was unlike anyone he'd ever met. She didn't demand attention, didn't fight for the spotlight, and yet Fred couldn't look away.

She was a mystery wrapped in soft smiles and quick wit, and Fred was determined to unravel her. Not because he had to — because he wanted to. Somewhere deep down, Fred knew he was playing a dangerous game. Cassiopeia Valencourt wasn't just another mark, and this wasn't just another prank.

But if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that Cassiopeia Valencourt was worth the risk.

"We'll start with a charm," Fred said, leaning forward. "Something simple but clever. A little...atmospheric adjustment, maybe?"

George raised an eyebrow. "Atmospheric adjustment?"

"You know, like a sudden rainstorm. Indoors."

George's eyes lit up. "Oh, I like that. But what's the twist?"

Fred grinned. "The twist is that she won't get wet. Not a drop. She'll just... block it somehow. Like she always does."

George frowned. "But if it doesn't work, how's it a prank?"

"It's not about whether it works," Fred said, his grin widening. "It's about seeing how she reacts. That's the fun of it."

George shook his head, but he was smiling now. "You're completely mad, you know that?"

Fred shrugged. "Maybe. But you can't deny it's going to be interesting."

By the time they left the Great Hall, the plan was fully formed, and Fred's excitement had reached a fever pitch. He could already picture it — the look of surprise on Cassie's face when she realized what was happening, the way she'd handle it with that quiet confidence that drove him absolutely insane.

But there was something else, too. Something he didn't quite know how to put into words.

Cassie wasn't just a target. She was...

Fred shook his head, trying to clear the thought before it could take root. He couldn't afford to think like that. Not if he wanted to keep up the charade.

Still, as they walked back toward the common room, Fred found himself glancing over his shoulder, back toward the Ravenclaw table where Cassie still sat, utterly unaware of the chaos that was about to come her way.

And as much as he tried to push the thought away, one thing kept echoing in his mind:

Cassie wasn't just a challenge. She was the reason he wanted to win.

Fred Weasley was, in every sense, wholly extraordinary. And yet, he found himself hopelessly, madly, and without reason drawn to one Cassiopeia Valencourt.