Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Three's Company ❯ Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

I never realized just how tall the twins were. For some reason, I'd always bumped into them at the tables, or in the common rooms, or in a classroom, and they were always sitting down. Always. After my first week of classes, though, I chanced upon them standing. And I must wonder, even now, why it took me that long.

 

Learning my way around the school, at least for the most part, wasn't all that hard, and was accomplished within my first week at Hogwarts. So it was no surprise at all when I was able to make my twice-weekly Transfiguration class a wee early. I slipped into my desk and pulled out my wand, twirling it idly for want of entertainment. The door opened and the twins entered, checking the hallway behind them for clearance. They forgot, though, to check the classroom.

 

One of them (George? I had trouble learning their differences in the beginning) entered before the other and sat in his desk to pull something out of it before standing again. He walked back to McGonagall's desk with said thing in his hand, passing me by as he did.

 

I blinked warily, understanding just how tall these boys actually were in comparison to my measly 143cm. They were 165, give or take. Not that I was complaining, but it did get a little overwhelming knowing that your classmates (albeit older ones) are that much of a margin taller than you.

 

The blinks, though, turned altogether too quickly into a screw-up-your-face-for-a-sneeze. Neither of them noticed; understandable, seeing as they hadn't seen me by that time, they weren't going to. When I let it loose though, both boys jumped at the sound of the sneeze.

I shook my head, clearing the explosion from behind my eyes with a few bats of my eyelashes. I could feel their eyes on me; whether or not they were glaring remained to be seen. I looked up through my lashes, determined to milk this for all it was worth.

 

"What're you doing here, sixth year?" one of them demanded. I think it was Fred, seeing as the other one still had that whatchamajig from his desk. "Class isn't to start for another ten minutes!"

 

"I could ask the same of you two," I said, innocence fairly streaming from my pores. Dumbledore had tested me on my first night here, and had placed me in the seventh year Transfiguration class, along with a few others. Gee, I wonder why.

 

Fred sputtered a bit, but George rose to the occasion quite nicely. "Don't pull the innocence crap," he said matter-of-factly. "It won't work on us." He puffed out his chest a little, probably unconsciously. But knowing them, perhaps it wasn't.

 

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked, still pulling said 'innocence crap'.

 

"She was sneaking, I'll bet," Fred muttered to his brother.

 

"Spying, more like," he answered. His gaze never wavered from my face. "Why are you here?"

 

"Waiting for class to start," I said with a shrug. "And you," I nodded to Fred, still not sure about names, "are too pompous for your own good. Shall I take a needle to your ego, or does your girlfriend do it for you?" Pot calling the kettle, looking back on it now. Perhaps the Catholics were right - it is deadly.

 

"Angelina's not my girlfriend," he muttered darkly.

 

"She hasn't met Percy, else she wouldn't say that," George stage-whispered to his twin, his hand not blocking his mouth. They'd have made great actors, now that I think about it.

 

"She stil hasn't answered the question, either."

 

"Will she ever?" l returned.

 

They both looked at me strangely, and I couldn't help but laugh at them. "Don't you ever talk in third person about yourselves?" I asked them. "'Tis highly entertaining."

 

Before they could recover, the class began to fill. They couldn't pull anything with so many witnesses, and couldn't afford to visit Filch again that week, even though it was only Tuesday. So they swore and took their seats.

 

Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet entered the room together, shooting simultaneous glares my way. I'd only been there a week, and they were already feeling threatened. I smirked and preened at their attentions. Buggers, I thought.

 

McGonagall entered, silence descending upon the room. I turned my attention to the front of the class, knowing full well that the professor wouldn't have her pupils' undivided attention today. They were too busy glaring at me.

 

"Today, class, you will be turning an armchair into a moose." I blinked, astounded. This woman made no sense! Next she'd be having us turn the moose rack into a jackalope! "Because the moose is so big," she continued, "you will each perform separately, and in the front of the room." I swore. How was I supposed to work with everyone watching?!

 

It seemed that the entire room had the same opinion. "Why are we performing?" someone asked, probably Lee Jordan. He wasn't as adept at Transfiguration as some of his classmates, but he wasn't the worst, either.

 

"Because I asked you to. And since you have no qualms, Mr. Jordan, you shall be the first. Come." She motioned to the conspicuous armchair beside her. "You may begin when ready."

"But why, Professor?" the boy asked sullenly, trudging to the front of the room.

 

"You will need to perform such magic in front of your examiners, Mr. Jordan. I suggest you start learning now."

 

"Yes ma'am." Lee waved his wand. The chair became a moose, right enough. It wasn't, however, what McGonagall had asked for. The moose, instead of fur, was covered in the patterned brocade of the chair. Lee swore, and changed it back. McGonagall nodded, and motioned for her next victim, a girl on the front row. Her moose's feet looked more like the legs of the chair, but they weren't near as noticeable as Lee's mistake.

 

One by one, the students filed to the front, trying to draw out a moose from the chair. Only a few people were able to without fault: the Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson, and myself. I was rather amazed that the twins, what with their notorious trickster reputations, were able to perform any higher level magic at all. But then, I reasoned, how else would they be in High Transfiguration?

 

McGonagall awarded 40 points to Gryffindor for our troubles, and sent us out when the bell rang. As I stepped out of the classroom, I was immediately assailed by none other than Alicia Spinnet, Mari-Hater #3.

"Dughan," she hailed. "Come here a minute."

 

"Aye?" I asked, approaching warily. This girl, out of the three, was the only one who seemed remorseful whenever I caught her gaze.

 

"You saw my moose?" she asked unnecessarily.

 

I refrained my retort, wanting to know why she'd called me out, and not as one of the Hater Squad. "Yeah, I did," I said.

 

"D'you....I can't believe I'm asking this of a sixth year, and one I'm supposed to despise, no less, but...Could you, like, help me?"

 

I couldn't believe my ears. "You want me to tutor you in Transfiguration?" I clarified, stunned.

 

"Yeah, and...and anything else I have a problem in. I'm not the brightest, you know..."

"I reckon I can figure sommat out," I said, trying very hard to keep the reluctance from my voice. "When do you have time?"

 

"Well, Quiddich doesn't start for a couple weeks...Can you do it tonight, maybe?"

 

"Sure. In the common room, then?"

 

"See you around seven, okay?"

"Alright." I started toward Fifth-Year Potions.

 

"Hey, Dughan?" Alicia called after me.

 

"Aye?" I half-turned to meet her gaze.

 

"Thanks."

 

"No problem, Spinnet." On that note, I dashed off.

 

The rest of the day went quickly, with only a few minor mishaps on my part. I'd had the audacity to talk back to Snape about the ingredients of a particular potion, and he'd had the gall to take points from my house for every word I'd spoken against him. As such, I didn't speak for the rest of the day, and glared daggers at him whenever his back was turned.

 

I stepped into the Great Hall for supper, already dreading the looks from the other students. Sure enough, there was a glare from each of the Gryffindors, and most of the other houses too. Slytherin, though, was applauding me. Probably for the exact same reason as the glares, if I wasn't mistaken.

 

I sat down in the only seat available to me: across from the Weasley twins. Just. My. Luck. Life hated me. The gods hated me. The gods-forsaken school hated me. The least they could do was pretend to put up with me. But of course, being the Weasleys, they didn't.

 

"Nice going today, Dughan," George muttered around a mouthful of food.

 

"Great work. Don't think I've known anyone to piss Snape off quite so well," Fred added.

 

"Thanks, guys," I said, letting sincerity override my sarcasm. "I really appreciate your support."

 

They laughed. "You've got to be joking," Fred told me matter-of-factly.

 

"Nope," I said. "Completely serious. At least it's something, compared to the rest of these louts."

 

"We were being sarcastic," George said.

 

"I wasn't. Hard to believe, no?" I laughed, and dug into my supper. Mmm, unnamable mystery meat again. Delectable.

 

"You're quite bonkers, Dughan."

 

Fred nodded in agreement. "What did Spinnet want with you after Transfiguration?" he asked me, their sudden change in subjects beginning to annoy me.

 

"Nothing to fret over, Weasley. She wasn't asking me out or anything. 'Twould ruin her image, to be dating a sixth year." I smirked.

 

"Don't you insult Alicia," George said warningly, a slight flush creeping over his cheeks.

 

"Was I insulting her? I was merely stating what she WASN'T doing, Weasley. No need to get defensive."

 

"You're insulting me, George?" the girl in question asked, shoving a third year over to sit next to me. "Hey Dughan."

 

"Spinnet."

 

"What were you two talking about earlier?" Fred asked again.

 

"Oh, nothing." I have got to stop speaking. This 'at the same time' crap has got to stop.

 

The boys laughed mirthlessly. "Right," George told us. "Talk."

 

Alicia looked at me, and I shrugged. It was her reputation she was asking to ruin. "I asked her to tutor me," she told them after a moment's pause.

 

Their mouths fell open. "Why didn't you ask me, Alicia?" George asked, clearly hurt.

 

"You're a guy, George. And as good a friend as you are, there are some things you don't understand."

"So why not Katie or Angelina?"

 

Alicia sighed and shook her head. "I'm giving it a go, and you two had better be quiet about it. I don't want people to know I'm being tutored." Not that she was being tutored by a sixth year.

 

George sighed in defeat. "Alright,” they chorused dutifully.

 

"Thanks, boys," Alicia said, her voice the picture of sincerity. She turned to me. "What'll you be tutoring me on?"

 

"The question is, what do you need help with?" I asked. "I'm not all that sure about theories and stuff, seeing as..." 'I grew up without a wand,' I almost said. "I grew up with muggles." And gypsies, but I didn't remember most of that. Damned war.

 

"The theories are easy," she told me. "But it's the practice itself that kills me."

 

"We'll work something out."

 

"Alright." And we all tucked in.

 

I was in an armchair by the fire when he showed up. Red hair glinting and hazel eyes like the fire behind him, he was a sight indeed. And not all that bad of one, either. I said nothing, waiting for him to announce himself.

 

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded of me, swinging a chair to face me and blocking my view of the flames. Not a smart move, boy.

 

"I think I was thinking about how best to kill you for interrupting my meditation," I said flatly. "Why do you ask? I don't normally think out loud, but I'm sure I can make an exception for you."

 

"Why are you tutoring Alicia? Do you know what this'll do to her rep if it gets out?"

 

"Why do you care?" I shot back. "Not your choice, remember?"

 

"Still! She's a Gryffindor, and we have to stick together!"

 

My eyes darkened, but he couldn't tell in the half-light. "I've yet to see that bond," I murmured.

 

"You don't count."

 

My own eyes flared, and I know he saw them, for he blinked a few times, not trusting his own eyes. He should have. "Bugger off, Weasley. It's none of your business." I stalked to my room, eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. It was only when I was curled on my bed that I realized my pupils had slitted to those of a cat's when I'd glared.

 

~*~