𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 | f. weasley

forty-five

CASSIE'S WOUND HAD BEEN properly healed by her mother, Julianna Potter, who, along with Remus had crashed into the Weasley and guests' four on four quidditch game. The duo stayed for dinner after much of Mrs Weasley's persuasion — Remus seeming most reluctant due to all the sad memories he had attached to this house of when he would come to babysit Bill, Charlie and Percy along with his late fiance Cassandra Prewett. 

The two had brought along Cassie's books for the year as well as Sirius's birthday gift, a Firebolt Supreme, which received quite the fondling from everyone in the room. 

With her foot all proper, the girl tested the broom out first thing in the morning, everyone playing another round of quidditch. The boys and Ginny taught her little moves and tricks, with Cassie promising Fred she'd try out for the team this year. 

Although Cassie played Chaser for most of the garden matches, the girl truly wanted to be a beater — especially after she swung Fred's bat at the quaffle when it was coming at great speed to attack her precious face while she stepped down to drink some water. But the girl pushed down this desire because Fred and George were the team beaters and it was their thing. She didn't want to take it away from them — just like she didn't want Mrs Weasley to stop their work on Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes which was why the girl offered up her spare room in her backpack for the twins to hide and create their brilliant works of magic far away from their mother's shrewd and judgmental eyes. 

Mrs Weasley could never and probably would never understand the genius of her sons. 

Rain lashed against the living room window. Granger was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs Weasley had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. Cassie, on the other hand, was already beginning to learn the theory part from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, for her OWLs this year since she had been promoted for a few classes — Charms, Transifugartion and History of Magic — and was going to give the OWLs for those subjects this year. The procedure to get promoted had been slightly complicated but in the end, she managed to get into the higher grade for three classes she was excelling in. 

Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt and Cassie's Firebolt supreme with the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment. 

"What are you two up to?" said Mrs Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.  

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs Weasley.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George. 

 "You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?" 

Everyone laughed, even Mrs Weasley.

"Oh your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again. 

Mr Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "travelling"; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on "home" with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen. 

"Coming, Arthur!" called Mrs Weasley, hurrying out of the room. 

A few moments later, Mr Weasley came into the warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.