Princess; George Weasley

twenty-three

After I took a warm bath to ease my aching muscles, I grab the book from Borgin and Burke's. I try to slip out of the bustling common room, but I can't help getting showered with congratulations. Sure, everyone likes attention here and there, but I just need time. Time to myself to figure out how Sirius is connected to my parents. Not only how he's connected, but how close he was to them. By the sound of the letter, he knew my mother quite well.

I finally get out of the common room, and I immediately open the page to where I had the note folded. I just now notice the bold drawings on the back of the note. There are tons of shapes, just overlapping, and in the center reads "property of Padfoot." The shapes don't seem to be in a particular pattern, but I wonder why the back of a ripped piece of paper would have a name on it. Padfoot isn't even a real name, is it? Why did Black use this piece in particular?

I try and ignore my curiosity lingering around the doodles, but I seem to fail. I start re-reading the scratchy note, before eventually turning the page over again to look at the bold shapes.

The paper is wrinkled, and it looks like it took quite the journey before it made its way to me. The parchment smell is gone, and the current smell reminds me of dust and mildew. Not a refreshing sort of morning rain, but more of an ancient, musty smell.

"Claudia!"

I look up and see George at the base of the dungeon's stairs near the kitchens. How does he always manage to find me when I'm in a state of urgency? He quickly hides his hand behind his leg. A devilish grin is lurking on his face.

"George—" I say, creeping forward slightly. I have a strong feeling the "key to their success" is being tucked back behind his leg.

"What!" He says a little too quickly.

His nervous laughter only confirms my suspicion. What's so important? Why does he need to find me right away? Sure, using the map would be quicker, but it's definitely more stalker-like.

"Were you stalking me on the map?" I ask. A shocked chuckle escapes me.

"No," he says sheepishly, "can't I just randomly find my friend on her way outside?"

I look at him. Complete shock waves over me. "How did you know I was going outside?"

His face turns a deep scarlet, and he moves to brush a lock of hair that fell out of his face, revealing the map. He quickly moves his hand back and stares at me, his mouth making an "o" shape. He switches what hand the map is in behind his back, and tries to fix his hair again.

"George Fabian Weasley!" I call out, laughing, "How many times have you stalked me? How many times have you glanced at the map, to only see me leaving my common room? The fact that you know my different routes, including the ones using the back stairs is honestly terrifying."

I always go a different way when going outside. It's a longer walk, but normally the corridors are empty besides the occasional house elf. Normally, when I go outside I need to clear my head, so the extra-long walk, on top of the silence is nice.

He stutters a bit before looking over both shoulders. His eyes crinkle once the mischievous smile returns. He slowly backs up, placing one foot on the stairs behind him. He puts a hand on the dark, stony walls to steady his backward walks.

"See you at dinner!"

He suddenly turns and darts out of the dungeon. He almost gets caught on his untied shoelace.

"George, I swear to god—!" I yell, still grinning. How did I get myself into this in the first place?

I go to chase after him, but my book was still wide open. My note slips out of the navy book and flutters in the direction of the floor. I turn around to grab the raisin-like note but it's not on the floor where I left it.