(Eng) Weasleys, Pranks and other Curses

25

I had never dared to question my parents' work. But the more information we gathered about fog vultures and Augurey, the more the thought crept up on me that maybe I should have.

"If Augurey really are descended from fog vultures, then it makes sense that they're so similar," Ginny summarized her findings. "The venom, for example. Augurey also have something similar on their claws. But only when they've come back fresh."

"Do you think Hagrid would tell us anything about Augurey if we asked him?", I asked Maddie, who still couldn't believe she might be right.

"I'm not sure. They're rare animals."

"But they're dangerous enough to interest him," George interjected.

"No harm in trying," I yawned, feeling the adrenaline of the last few hours leave me.

"Enough for today. We've never been in the library this long at a stretch. It'll hurt our reputation if we stay any longer," Fred laughed. So we packed up.

"Too bad," George remarked on the way back to our hiding place. Ginny and Maddie had already gone to dinner, so there weren't always the five of us everywhere. And Fred was held up by a group of younger students asking for one of their joke spells. "That Madeline Bell, of all people, is stealing my thunder."

"With a page of notes, that wasn't hard either." We stopped near the wall hanging and waited for some Hufflepuffs to pass us.

"One page?" George leaned his shoulder against the wall. "Fred had one side. I have at least two."

As always when he laughed, I had to grin as well. "And what subject did you have that you could write a whole two pages?"

"So you're interested in that?" As soon as the students disappeared, we slipped through the hole in the wall. "Will you answer my question if it's interesting info?"

George pushed along in the dark hallway way too close behind me, and I smelled his shampoo as he leaned past me to disenchant the door.
But there was something else resonating. Was that -?
"Are you working on more firecrackers?"

"What makes you think that?" he asked, as soon as the door burst open. Immediately, the strong smell of love potion hit me.

A fresh shampoo, black powder, and the whiff of rain-heavy air after Quidditch practice. Oh no.

I didn't smell New Year's. I smelled George Weasley.

An uncomfortable tug spread through my chest. I smelled George Weasley, whereas he smelled Quidditch, gum, and secrets. Yes, I liked him, but I definitely didn't smell like Quidditch, bubblegum, or dust. What did that say about this thing between us?

"All good?" George had let the papers become visible again and was already sorting everything back into the suitcase while I just stood there staring at him. "I mean, I get it, I'm a real eye candy, but you should have known that for a while."

I quickly rolled my eyes in an exaggerated manner. "I just drifted off because today was so much," I quickly talked myself out of it.

"Is that so?" Again, he grinned to himself.

"What's your question?", I quickly rebuffed, arranging our latest notes into the case as well.

"Can't wait, huh?" Again, he was standing right behind me and I wheeled around to resist the urge to lean in. In his hand he held a roll of parchment. Obviously his information with which to earn this question.

"Who knows when we'll be alone next." Even as I spoke the words, I became aware that we were indeed alone. Just the two of us in this room where the remnants of Amortentia still wafted.

"Where you are right," George purred, making no move to give me an inch. "My question has a simple background, you know. When you were tied to the bed with us, I learned something very interesting." With his free hand, he helped me close the suitcase without taking his eyes off me. "Hermione confessed to me that you found out that the love potion didn't last as long as we pretended."

My heart slipped into my stomach.

"You smell wind and black powder." Slowly, he leaned down to me. "New Year's," he laughed softly. "I can see how you came up with that before we knew each other. But by now the penny should have dropped." His grin widened. "Firecracker?" His warm fingers stroked my cheek as he brushed a strand from my face.

"This is - is against the deal," I reminded him, bumping the chair behind me.

"But the deal was made at a time when I didn't even have all the information. What do muggles call that? False pretenses?" His fingers rested against my neck. "So my question is, Camille Renard, do you like me?"

I was no longer sure whether my heart was racing or had stopped beating completely. The place where his fingers were still stroking my skin was tingling so violently that I felt dizzy. He had to know the answer. He saw my reaction! So why did he ask? Because I didn't smell like dust and mint?

"You promised to answer honestly." His gaze followed his insolent fingers, which now trailed my collarbone to my shirt collar.

Something inside me clicked. No. As much as I wanted this. It was not the right time. Nimbly, I plucked the paper from George's hand. "I promised to answer honestly if your information was good." I had visibly surprised him and took advantage of his speechlessness to dive under his arm. Without turning around, I watched to make sure I got my feet under me.

Only in the safety of the girls' hall did I find the calm to look at what George had found.

Osior van Alfesus lived around the year 1250.
Okay, I knew that from my parents' records.

In that century, the idea that only pureblood was good was first challenged by witches and sorcerers in the northern regions.
I had never thought about that. In fact, I had never thought much about Osior, except for the occasional angry curse here and there.

The symbols in the coffin itself suggest Osior's affiliation with the Mnh Khe. A belief system that bases a wizard's worth on his intelligence alone.

I stared at the remarks. Most of it consisted of quotes from my parents' individual records. But George must have gone through more than his binder, because I didn't remember ever reading anything about the Mnh Khe. The name, yes, but what was it about intelligence?
And then stuck at the very bottom was one of Maddie's neon pink sticky notes. Only the handwriting was clearly George's.

"The Mnh Khe determined their successors through a series of tests and trials. Even their blood relatives had to pass these tests to be legitimized as heirs."

I stared at the words.
"Are you kidding me?!", I groaned out loud and immediately pressed my hands over my mouth. This was absolutely and definitely impossible.

My parents couldn't have missed this! No way!
But there was that nagging voice in the back of my head. My parents loved challenges, but they cared abundantly little about individual cultures and history. People didn't bring them in for their expertise on regional customs. My parents only came when a cursed object could not be safely recovered. A bit like a bomb squad.

Upset, I stormed down the stairs to the common room, had to dodge an older Gryffindor who complained loudly, and just barely came to a stop at the feet of my four friends. Immediately they interrupted their animated conversation and I slapped George's parchment against his chest.

"If this is true, I'm going to run amok. I'm not even kidding," I groaned between my angry snorts. "Your answer is yes. Now let's never talk about it again."