"Didn't know you was into gingers, Malfoy?"
"Shut up Weasley"
-
Gemma Weasley shared many similarities with her siblings, the ginger hair, pale skin, freckles and a super sense of humour, yet she was the one that stood out from them all. Even her tw...
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It was chaos.
My hair had doubled in size, each curl now puffed up like a marshmallow in a microwave. I could hardly see past the frizz. Seamus sat next to me, blinking rapidly as soot settled into every crevice of his face. His cauldron had hissed ominously before exploding in a small cloud of black dust. Hermione looked like she'd stuck her finger in a socket- her bushy hair twice as wild as usual. Even Draco's perfectly slicked-back hair was out of place, a rogue strand falling over his brow.
"Merlin's Beard!" Slughorn cried, eyes glued to Harry's cauldron. "But it's perfect. So perfect I daresay one sip would kill us all! Your mother was a dab hand at potions, but this... My, my, what can't you do, m'boy? Perhaps you will save us all in the end..."
All heads turned toward Harry. His smile twitched, the weight of attention pressing down.
Slughorn beamed and held out the vial. "Here you are then, as promised. One bottle of Felix Felicis. Use it well."
Harry's hand closed around the shimmering bottle while the rest of us nursed our egos and singed eyebrows.
-
The fire crackled softly, casting warm shadows across the worn red sofas. I was curled up on the corner cushion with my blanket around my shoulders, still nursing a slight singe to my pride-and my eyebrows- after today's spectacularly failed potion. Seamus was next to me, soot still clinging to his hairline despite Hermione's best attempts at cleaning him up. He looked like a chimney sweep with attitude.
Dean and Ginny were tangled together on the rug playing Exploding Snap, and Ron was lying upside down on a nearby armchair, one foot propped on the wall, eating a packet of Drooble's with no hands. Typical.
The portrait hole swung open. Harry stepped in, his shoulders stiff, hair messier than usual. His eyes swept the room, lingering on me for a second too long.
I looked away.
He muttered a quick "Hey," and dropped into the seat next to Ron, not quite looking at me.
No one said anything.
Seamus shifted uncomfortably. "So... anyone else still smell like regret and burnt wormwood?"
Ginny snorted. "You nearly set your eyebrows on fire."
"I was going for dramatic flair," Seamus said proudly. "Bit of theatre."
I smiled. Just a little.
But then Harry spoke, casually- too casually. "Shame not everyone was so theatrical on the train."
The silence fell like a curtain.
I sat up straighter, narrowing my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," he said, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. "Just thinking out loud."
Ron groaned and swung his legs around to sit upright. "Mate. Come on."
