I Know The End {Fred Weasley, ACT I}

Chapter 52- A Spark of Joy

The table was crowded. Too crowded. Different color ties were mixing together, highlighting the abnormality. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

Eleanor's eyes glided to where Umbridge sat at the front of the room, where she found the Headmistress engrossed in deep conversation with Filch. Eleanor was beginning to wonder if the two were entangled in the midst of a love affair. The thought brought the shadow of a smile to her lips, the closest she'd come to laughing since Umbridge had scarred her.

Eleanor fidgeted in her seat, tearing her gaze away from her professor. She didn't want her friends becoming aware of how often she marked the woman, the fear that caused her to do so. She especially didn't want the rest of her new tablemates to pick up on her anxiety, not when they only knew her through the rose colored glasses she'd crafted herself to be viewed through.

They were arguing. Loudly. Her eyes flitted to Umbridge again, who still was blissfully unaware of the uprising forming before her very eyes. Of the pact that'd been created within the last hour. Eleanor wanted to shush them, wanted to suggest they move this meeting to somewhere more private, but she kept quiet.

Quiet meant no quiver in her voice.

"Fireworks?" Eden demanded, rolling her eyes. "That's all the great Fred and George Weasley can come up with? And after your literal girlfriend," Isabella jabbed Eden in the ribs and Eden winced, "or whatever the hell you two are, was like, deformed-"

"She's not deformed," Fred yelled as Eleanor fought the urge to deform Eden's face.

"The great Fred, George, and Lee," Lee muttered, annoyed. Lee Jordan, the forgotten prankster.

"It's not just any fireworks," George countered, "we made them-"

"And why should that mean anything?" Athena asked, her tone lacking any condescension, her curiosity genuine.

"Have you not seen our products?" Fred rounded on her, eyes narrowed in disdain.

"No, that's not quite my scene."

"Well, you should have written about us in your little paper by now. We've sold to more than half the school-"

"My paper is not little! I have over thirty subscribers-"

"All I'm saying," Eden interrupted, "is that you can do better. You two-"

"Three," Lee coughed.

Four, Eleanor thought with a scowl.

"-were responsible for Snape's hair loss in our third year-"

"Classic," George smirked.

"-timed the toilets on the second floor to flood at the same time as our History of Magic OWL so that poop water rained from the ceiling as we tried to complete our exam-"

"Ah, good times," Fred laughed.

"-threw snowballs at the back of Quirrell's head, which ended up being you-know-who-"

"I forgot about that," George exclaimed.

"-and placed so many Dungbombs in the dungeons that the Slytherins had to sleep in the infirmary for the night while they dealt with the smell, but all you can come up with now is a firework show?"

"How many times must we explain to you that it's more than a firework show?" Fred snapped, his patience dwindling.

The Gryffindors had explained their plan to the others, of which included Eleanor as she'd been asleep during the majority of the planning and were now being thrown critiques by those who'd chosen to come sit at the table.