Princess; George Weasley

twenty-four

"You're not going to see Sirius, Claudia."

I send George an annoyed glance before rolling my eyes. I decided to tell him about my plan just in case something does go wrong. He's been nagging me ever since I told him the new path I came up with.

"Out of all people, I thought you'd back me up on this one!" I exclaim. I was trying to talk to him while practically running down the halls. "Where's to the mischief-loving prankster?"

I catch up to him and fold my arms across my chest. The light from the windows in this particular corridor makes his hair glow as it outlines his facial features. He's frowning, but his eyes aren't fully upset.

"If you would've asked me to help scare Cedric, or even trap Filch, I would've said yes." He says, with a disapproving tone lurking in his words. "But this— Claudia, this is insane."

I open my mouth to reply, but he keeps talking. His voice is raised slightly, and he begins to talk with hands more. I stand next to him, my arms still folded in front of my chest. A sulking expression stays on my face as he continues his rant.

"You're trying to run after a mass murderer!" He stares at me, his eyes wide.

"George," I say, practically pleading. "He knows about my mom."

"Look Claudia, I'd be an awful friend if I just let you run after Sirius Black. Lord knows you're not going to like this, but why don't you at least try talking to Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

"No way," I groan, about to walk away from him.

I told Cedric I would see the trio before I found out about Sirius knowing my mother. They can't take this away from me. If it was just information regarding my father and Sirius, I wouldn't care. This feels directed to me. I have a strong feeling that letter isn't for anyone else's eyes.

"Claudia!" He yells after me, "just hear me out for once."

I look over my shoulder before I keep moving forward. "I hate you, Weasley!"

I smile slightly before nearly breaking out in a jog. I hear his footsteps rattle down the hall, and I continue to move away from him. Faster with every step, I look down, contemplating my two options. I either risk my life to learn more about my mother or go talk to Harry. I've never really acted like a spontaneous Gryffindor, but I'm reminding myself of one.

Am I willing to risk my life for information I may not even want to know?

The footsteps are getting closer, and I realize I stopped walking while plotting my potential outcomes. I look over my shoulder, and George is only a couple feet away from me. I gasp as his arms wrap around my waist.

"George!" I shriek as he lifts me higher.

"Got you," He says, giggling like a maniac. One of his arms rests behind my back, and the other in the bend of my knees. I try and roll away from him, but he pulls me closer to his chest. The soft, but slightly scratchy feeling of his green sweater rubs across my arm and ankle.

"You'd rather break your nose on the stone floor than talk to Ron, Harry, and Hermione?" George asks as he begins to sprint down the hallway.

I groan, "I can't believe you."

He shrugs, "you probably deserve it."

"Oi! Weasley!"

George stops and quickly turns around. I feel a jolt in my stomach from the sudden movement.

"Careful!" I shout, "you don't want me projectile vomiting all over your mom's sweater, do you?"

"Stop complaining, will you? It's not like you're going anywhere regardless," George snaps.