It was just Fred's luck. After days of planning, distractions, and delays, George had finally convinced him to get out of his funk and go through with the first trick against Cassie. Fred had fully expected it to go wrong — not in this way, but in the way that Cassie always managed to avoid the worst of things. He wanted it to go wrong. Observing how she reacted to different tricks would give him insight into how she always seemed to walk away unscathed, untouched, and unaffected.

What he hadn't expected was for Professor Flitwick to be standing just out of view.

Fred's grin faltered as he watched the charmed rain pour down in a perfect, miniature storm — straight onto Flitwick. The tiny professor froze mid-step, his expression morphing from surprise to irritation as he waved his wand to clear the water. Cassie, standing only a few feet away and perfectly dry, turned toward him with wide eyes.

"Miss Valencourt," Flitwick began, his tone sharp but curious, "I know you were just saying you didn't feel fit for the role of prefect, but I trust you had nothing to do with this sudden...downpour?"

Fred's stomach dropped. Flitwick wasn't outright accusing her, but the way his eyes narrowed in suspicion made Fred's chest tighten. He couldn't let her take the fall — not for something so obviously ridiculous. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, he stepped out from his hiding spot, forcing a grin onto his face.

"Would you believe me if I said it was an accident, Professor?" Fred said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Flitwick turned toward him, unimpressed. "Mr. Weasley," he said dryly. "I should've known."

Fred heard George stifling a laugh from somewhere behind him, but he ignored it, his focus locked on Flitwick.

With a flick of his wand, Flitwick dried his robes completely before shaking his head. "Detention, Mr. Weasley. Tonight, after dinner. Report to my office promptly."

Fred nodded, swallowing the lump of dread in his throat. "Yes, Professor."

Satisfied, Flitwick turned back to Cassie, his demeanor softening. "Come along, Miss Valencourt. I wanted to discuss your recent essay on advanced charms theory."

Fred watched them walk away, Flitwick chatting amicably while Cassie threw a quick glance over her shoulder. She didn't look angry or annoyed — just...curious.

But that only made Fred feel worse. As he stood there, drenched in his own embarrassment, all he could think about was how stupid he must've looked. What kind of impression had he made? She probably thought he was just another prankster with nothing better to do.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. Brilliant start, Fred, he thought bitterly. Absolutely brilliant.

Fred stood in the corridor for a moment after Flitwick and Cassie disappeared into the Great Hall, the sound of their conversation fading behind the heavy doors. His cheeks still burned from the reprimand, and his mind was a chaotic swirl of regret and second-guessing. Finally, he exhaled sharply and forced himself to move.

His next class wasn't going to wait, and the last thing he needed was another professor getting on his case. Shouldering his bag, Fred made his way down the familiar halls toward the dungeons, though his steps were slower than usual.

By the time he reached the Potions classroom, the embarrassment hadn't faded. As he slid into his usual seat near the back, Fred replayed the scene in his head for what felt like the hundredth time.

It was such a dumb prank — why had he even thought it would be funny in the first place? And why did Flitwick have to be the one caught in the crossfire? His stomach churned as he thought about Cassie. Did she think he was an idiot for pulling something like that? Or worse, did she think he was just another immature prankster with nothing better to do?

Fred propped his chin on his hand, staring blankly at the cauldron in front of him. He wanted Cassie to see him as more than that. Sure, he loved pulling tricks and making people laugh — it was who he was. But he didn't want her to think that was all he was.

"Mr. Weasley."

Snape's voice sliced through his thoughts, low and sharp as a blade. Fred snapped his head up, meeting the professor's cold, calculating gaze.

"Yes, sir?" Fred said, trying to keep his tone light.

"In a Scintillation Solution. What ingredient needs to be added last?" Snape asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

Fred's mind blanked. He vaguely remembered George mentioning something about Scintillation Solutions and horns, but whatever it was exactly, he couldn't bring it to mind now. "Er...bicorn horn?"

The silence was immediate and damning. Snape's lip curled in a sneer. "Well, Mr. Weasley, if your goal is to cause a deadly explosion, then you have succeeded. Perhaps we should warn the rest of the class to vacate the premises before you attempt such a feat."

The Slytherins erupted into laughter, and Fred's face burned as Snape continued, his tone colder still. "Five points from Gryffindor. Perhaps next time you'll consider paying attention instead of daydreaming about your latest disaster."

Fred sank lower in his seat, wishing the dungeon floor would swallow him whole. First Cassie, now this. If he wasn't careful, he'd make himself a laughingstock before lunch.

By the time class ended, Fred had resolved to pull himself together. One bad moment — well, two — wasn't going to ruin everything. If he was going to have a chance with Cassie, he needed to figure out how to connect with her for real. That meant more than just tricks.

As he packed up his things, Fred's mind was already spinning with possibilities.

Fred stomped up the stairs from the dungeons, his fingers clenching the strap of his bag as if he could squeeze the frustration out of his system. Detention with Flitwick, Snape's smug jab, and Cassie's stunned expression — it was all too much. At least now, with the prospect of dinner and some friendly chatter, he could put the day's disasters behind him.

The Great Hall was alive with the clatter of plates and a din of overlapping conversations. Fred's eyes scanned the Gryffindor table until he spotted George and Lee, already seated and tucking into a pile of mashed potatoes. With a sigh, Fred slid into the seat across from them.

"Blimey, Fred," George said, smirking as he reached for a platter of roasted chicken. "Word is you've been making quite the impression today. First Flitwick, then Snape? You're on a roll, mate."

Fred grabbed a roll from the basket and tore it in half with more force than necessary. "Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Just what I needed."

Lee snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice. "Don't take it too hard, Fred. Could've been worse. At least Snape didn't give you more detention."

Fred grunted, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. George, undeterred, leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Honestly I think I'd prefer that over Snape's charming parting words," George said, mimicking a low, drawling voice. "'Well, Mr. Weasley, if your goal is to cause a deadly explosion, then you have succeeded.'"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, he's not wrong."

George chuckled and turned back to his plate. "Speaking of goals," he said after a moment, "we need to talk about Hogsmeade. Supplies are running low, and Zonko's won't know what hit them when we launch our next batch of tricks."

Fred nodded absently, his mind still lingering on Snape's sarcastic jab and Flitwick's endless instructions. He tuned back in when Lee spoke.

"What about Honeydukes?" Lee asked, spearing a piece of steak. "We should stock up on Fizzing Whizbees. They sold out last time we added them to the Whizz-Poppers."

"And speaking of stocking up," George added, his grin turning sly, "I'm thinking about grabbing something for Angelina. Got to ask her to the ball properly, yeah?"

Fred blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "The ball? That's weeks away."

"Never hurts to plan ahead," George replied with a shrug. "Plus, she loves Honeydukes' Peppermint Toads. Easy win."

Fred chuckled softly but felt his chest tighten as the conversation shifted. If George could pinpoint exactly what would make Angelina smile, why couldn't he do the same for Cassie? He glanced at the food on his plate, appetite fading.

George and Lee carried on, their banter a steady rhythm, but Fred's thoughts had drifted to Cassie. What would he even get her? He liked her for nearly two years, yet he couldn't name her favorite sweets, her favorite class, or even her opinion on Quidditch.

The realization hit him like a Bludger to the chest. For all his months thinking about her, he barely knew her. And if he didn't know her, how could he ever have a chance?

"Oi, Fred," George said, waving a hand in front of his face. "You still with us?"

Fred blinked and plastered on a grin. "Yeah, just thinking."

Lee smirked. "Dangerous pastime for you, mate."

Fred huffed out a laugh, but his resolve was already forming. If he wanted Cassie to notice him — not just as the prankster or the troublemaker — he needed to start paying attention. Really paying attention.

Because showing off wasn't going to cut it anymore.

Fred shuffled out of the Great Hall, George's words still echoing in his mind. A rush of frustration bubbled up as he thought about the looming detention. He respected Flitwick, and the thought of facing him after today's mess made his stomach twist.

When Fred finally arrived at the Charms classroom, the door creaked open to reveal Flitwick perched on a stack of books at his desk, his quill scratching against parchment. Fred exhaled deeply, preparing himself for whatever punishment awaited.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Flitwick said, peering over his spectacles. "Take a seat."

Fred obeyed, sliding into the chair with a wince. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of his classmates' laughter echoing from the halls.

"I must admit," Flitwick began, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "the charm you performed today was technically impressive — perfect, even. However," he continued, his tone more serious, "using such spells irresponsibly, especially on a classmate, demonstrates a lack of respect."

Fred nodded, guilt already curling in his chest. "Sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to — well, I didn't think it through."

"Indeed," Flitwick said. "That's why tonight's task will focus on the theoretical application of charms. Specifically, I'd like you to write an essay on Atmospheric Charms — their uses and limitations."

Fred stifled a groan but nodded again. He pulled out parchment and a quill, determined to do the assignment justice. He respected Flitwick too much to slack off, even if he'd rather be anywhere else.

For the first few minutes, the classroom was silent, save for the occasional scratch of Fred's quill and Flitwick's shuffling papers. But then, a distant shriek from the hallway shattered the quiet.

Flitwick's head shot up, his brow furrowing. "What on earth?" He hopped off his chair and headed toward the door. "I'll be back shortly, Mr. Weasley. If you finish before I return, leave your essay on my desk."

Fred nodded, watching the professor vanish into the corridor. He could still hear the muffled screams and Flitwick's hurried steps fading away.

Moments later, the door creaked open again — but it wasn't Flitwick.

George strolled in, a wide grin plastered across his face and a small frog dangling from the hem of his robes. "Merlin's beard, you should've seen it! Three buckets of frogs, Fred. Three. And they said I wasn't committed to the bit."

Fred rolled his eyes, still focused on his essay. "You're daft, you know that? I'm stuck here, and you're out there terrorizing the castle."

"Someone had to liven up your evening," George said, shaking a frog off his boot. "Besides, you looked miserable at dinner. Thought I'd keep you company."

Fred chuckled despite himself and leaned back in his chair. "You're mental."

"So are you," George quipped, plopping into the seat beside him. "What's the punishment?"

"Essay on Atmospheric Charms," Fred said, tapping his quill against the parchment. "Uses, limitations, blah blah blah."

George smirked. "You should add a section on unintended consequences. Like, I don't know, accidentally drenching your future wife's favorite professor."

Fred shot him a glare but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, George shifted gears. "We need to start stockpiling supplies for the shop. Parchment, ink, maybe some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. And we should start planning the next trick on Cassie. Something subtle this time. Or not."

Fred shook his head, still scribbling. "I thought you weren't that interested."

George snickered. "You've got to admit, mate, she's the perfect test subject. Always a good sport, even when you cock it up spectacularly. Plus, had I known it would end in such a beautiful crash and burn, I would've agreed ages ago!"

"Thanks for the support," Fred muttered, though a grin tugged at his lips, his focus shifting back to his essay. The mindless chatter between them stretched on, punctuated only by the scratching of Fred's quill.

After what felt like half an hour, a faint commotion echoed from the corridor. George straightened, listening intently. "That'll be Flitwick. Time for me to vanish." He stood, giving Fred a cheeky salute. "Good luck with the essay."

Fred rolled his eyes but couldn't help a small smile. "Get out of here before you land yourself in detention, too."

George slipped out just in time, the door clicking shut behind him. A few moments later, Flitwick returned, looking slightly disheveled and muttering about "outrageous pranks".

Flitwick sighed, brushing a stray frog away before sitting back at his desk. "An eventful night, it seems." He glanced at Fred's parchment as he handed it over, skimming it briefly. "Well done, Mr. Weasley. But a word of advice — girls generally don't appreciate being turned into the victims of a sudden downpour."

Fred's face turned scarlet. "Uh — right. Thanks, Professor."

As Flitwick dismissed him, Fred gathered his things, the professor's words still ringing in his ears. The corridors were empty now, save for the occasional croak of a frog. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he made his way toward the Gryffindor common room.

As he passed the courtyard, the cool night air drifted in through an open archway, tugging at his robes. That's when he saw her — Cassie Valencourt, walking alone, her long hair catching the moonlight. Fred slowed his steps, debating whether to say something or keep walking.

Fred hesitated just inside the courtyard, his heart thumping in a way he wasn't used to. Apologize or make small talk? Maybe both? He still couldn't tell if Cassie thought of him as anything more than a relentless prankster.

She hadn't noticed him yet, her attention fixed on the notebook in her hands as she scribbled something. Fred took a breath, forcing himself forward. "Oi, Soapy."

Cassie looked up, her big, expressive eyes meeting his. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she gave him a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. "Still sticking with Soapy?"

Fred grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Of course. It's got a nice ring to it."

She rolled her eyes but didn't seem particularly annoyed. "Finished with detention already?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Flitwick's a forgiving bloke, thankfully. Look, uh, about earlier...I'm sorry if I almost got you in trouble."

Cassie shrugged, tucking her notebook under her arm. "It's fine. I wasn't really worried."

Fred smiled awkwardly, searching for something else to say. "Right, well...what are you doing out here? Thought everyone would be tucked up in the common rooms by now."

"My friends and I like to study out here sometimes. It's nice to get some fresh air," she said. "They bolted ahead when the wind picked up, though, so I ended up trailing behind."

Fred chuckled. "Leaving you to brave the elements alone? Traitors."

She gave a soft laugh, the sound warming the chilly evening air. "Someone had to finish the notes."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly easy either. Fred realized how little he actually knew about her. He opened his mouth to ask something — anything — but the sound of a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

"Cassie! There you are."

Lorelei Nightingale appeared from the far end of the courtyard, waving her over. Cassie glanced back at Fred, offering a small smile. "I should go. Goodnight, Fred."

Fred's grin returned, softer this time. "Goodnight, Soapy."

Cassie shook her head but smiled as she walked toward Lorelei, who was clearly eager to pull her away.

As the two girls disappeared around a corner, Fred stood there for a moment, the faint trace of her smile lingering in his mind. He knew then that he couldn't keep hiding behind pranks and clever jokes. If he really wanted to know Cassie, he'd have to take a different approach.

With that thought, he turned back toward the Gryffindor tower, a new resolve brewing alongside his usual mischief.