Plot Twist [GEORGE WEASLEY]

57.

One of Amara Shacklebolt's pet peeves was that she hated rehashing a topic again and again. To her irritation, that was what she had to deal with. Her friends had become agitated due to the newfound peril residing in her life. She supposed it wasn't really new. Since her first vision, it had been present, lying in wait, for her to realize it's presence.

They hadn't taken it seriously then.

Dumbledore warning her had been the catalyst for all these painful talks she had to participate in. The danger seemed real and palatable. It happened the day after she had gotten the box. She had recounted what the headmaster had said to her. It drifted to Luna's and Amitee's shore thanks to Gina.

All of them pledged to help her in the doomed duty of destroying it. Groaning, Amara rejected their help. She couldn't stand the thought of people she cared about, promising to put themselves in danger. For her!

This was more irritating as she had vowed to keep her friends from this dark object nonsense. They, unlike her, had no stake in it. They should forget her and the gigantic problem she had to deal with.

The task itself was a ball and chain, tethered to her. Her future seemed bleaker than it had been. It felt like she had no say in what her life could or would be. She knew one thing for certain and it was this task looming over her.

Two weeks ticked by and they hadn't let it go. The situation was worse on the Weasley side of her friends list. Fred had heard from George about the fate that had been laden for her. He decided he wanted to hear it from the source; her.

Heartwarming as it may be, she couldn't help pretend it was an infliction. Everytime she thought of the dark object and letting her friends into its trajectory, her forehead pinched.

She had ignored Fred, using the advantage of his short attention span to change the topic. Each time it came up, it worked. Thus far. Any opportunity to talk to her, he would swarm her with questions, suggestions and concerns. She began avoiding him shortly.

The end of October descended on them, its cold nestling into any warm nook. Amara fumbled with the clasp of her cloak to make it close. On her shoulder, her bag threatened to fall off and fall apart.

Her bag bulged, it's frayed, worn stitching succumbing to its overload. Books tumbled to the floor. Grumbling, she crouched, gathering them. A shadow fell on her.

"It's been a week and you still haven't remembered to put a weightless charm on your bag," Fred shook his head, crouching too. "I ought to put you out of your misery today, Ye fair damsel."

"By all means, please do," sighed Amara.

He tapped her ripped bag. The torn threads linked together, melding the two separated pieces of fabric into one. Flourishing his wand, Fred added a weightless charm to the bag. Amara poured her books into it.

Even with the spell, all the books couldn't fit. Happily, George relieved her of her most strenuous books. It seemed an odd action to Amara. A boy carrying one girl's books meant they were romantic. Heat bloomed in her cheeks at the idea.

"Uh, urm, so, you've been training for the next Quidditch match, right?" she asked, internally keeping her treacherous imagination at bay . "So, uh, has it been keeping you both busy?"

"Yeah, this morning we practiced for an hour. Hardly had time to eat a proper breakfast," Fred patted his stomach. "I had only two eggs before I got dragged away by Angelina."

Adjusting the books stacked in his arms, George furrowed his brow at her.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?" he put forth.