Weasley Twins - A Fate You Can't Escape

Chapter 3 - Trouble is Brewing

I was right. Potions sucks. Snape is in some sort of foul mood. And I mean it's worse that usual. Normally he's pretty cranky, but now he's seething. I suspect it has something to do with Umbridge. George, Fred and I have a hard time keeping up with the instructions he's barking. Add this, stir that, heat it to this temp for this long. Order after order, he barks, not bothering to write it on the board. I try my best to keep up, jotting the instructions down in my notebook.

"How much of the pomegranate juice did you put in?" I ask Fred, checking my notes.

"3 milliliters?" He answers. "Why is that wrong."

"It needs to be five. Add two more please." I turn to George. "And when he's done, please put in three drops of morning dew. Only three. Four, and it will make the potion explode."

"Explode?" George perks up at the word.

"Yes. And please don't make it explode on purpose. I would really like to do well." I check off pomegranate juice from the list and wait for George to finish adding the drops.

"Now we need to bring it to one hundred Celsius for exactly forty six seconds while stirring constantly." I hand Fred the mixing stick and pull out my wand. Murmuring the spell to heat the cauldron, I keep an eye on the thermometer on the rim. Once it hits the perfect one hundred, I start counting.

"Geez, my arm is going to fall off," Fred whines in my ear.

"Shush, you'll mess up her counting." George chastises. I do my best to ignore them and focus on the numbers. Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, and forty-six. I quickly stop the spell and motion for Fred to stop stirring.

"Now it says to wait until it turns white. After that add the petals of four violets." We all three crowd around and stare at the potion, waiting for it to turn. After a couple of minutes, Fred breaks the silence.

"How long is it supposed to take?"

"Snape said two to four minutes." I don't take my eyes off of the potion.

"Oh, okay."

Another few minutes go by and it's starting to seem like we've messed something up.

"It's been like six minutes now." George frowns.

"Yep." I bite my lip, trying to figure out where we went wrong. Suddenly, the potion starts to change. My hopes soar and we all watch eagerly. The potion turns a milky color for a moment, fooling us. But then continues to change, settling on a light blue.

"Well that doesn't look right." I sigh, frustrated.

"No. Indeed it does not Miss Taylor, and Mr. Weaselys." Snape critiques over our shoulders causing us to jump. "Perhaps the right amount of morning dew was not added?"

"I wrote down three. I'm sorry professor, I must have heard you wrong." I put my hands on my cheek, upset I got it wrong.

"No. Perhaps one of the Weasleys simply don't know how to count that high." He sneers before turning on his heel and marching over to another table.

"How many drops did you put in?" I question George as he had been the one in charge of that.

"Well I put in some, and then I couldn't remember if I had already put in two or three, so I left it. I didn't want to make it explode like you asked." He blushes, running his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, I should have been paying more attention."

"I guess a bad grade is better than an explosion and a bad grade." I groan and begin cleaning up. The potion is unrecoverable at this point, and with only ten minutes left of class, there isn't enough time to redo it.

An explosion goes off in the front row as a black haired Slytherin boy apparently adds too much morning dew. Snape rushes over, already chastising him profusely.

"At least that's not us." Fred agrees, helping me.

"Thanks for being cool about it." George taps the tip of my nose with the new pen I gave him. "I think we'll keep you around Hazel."

"Alright." I'm not sure how to respond to that. Keep me around? We're they going to ignore me otherwise? I don't understand, and honestly I have too much on my plate to even try.

***

I depart from the boys and head to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm not looking forward to quality time with Umbridge. Just looking at her makes me queasy. As I'm walking, a Ravenclaw first year bumps into me.

"Oh!" I exclaim, nearly dropping my books.

"Excuse me! I'm so sorry." The young girl stares up at me with wide eyes.

"It's okay. No harm done." I'm about to walk away, but the girl keeps talking.

"Are those boys your brothers?" She asks tilting her head.

"Thankfully, no."

"Really? But you all have red hair." She pushes, not believing me.

"Mine's fake." I'm not sure why I'm going into all this with her, but here I am.

"Your hair is fake?" She gasps. "What happened to your real hair?"

"No! Not my hair. The color. I dyed it. My hair is normally brown. But I dye it red."

"Oh. Is that a muggle thing?" She starts playing with a strand of her own blond hair.

"I guess. Don't wizards color their hair too?" I shrug, glancing at my watch. I need to get moving so I'm not late.

"I guess I hadn't really thought about it." She ponders. "Do you think that my hair could be dyed pink?"

"Um. Yeah. Sure kid. Look I got to go. Good luck with the... pink hair." I nod to her and hustle out of there.

She wanders off to her next class muttering about pink hair.

I make it to my seat in DADA about a minute and a half before class starts. Umbridge is at the desk, sipping tea from a dainty cup. I get my notebook and pens out alongside my DADA book. The book looks a bit young for my year, but it's what was on the shopping list. I open my notebook to the section I plan on dedicating to the class and write the date at the top.

I don't know how, but I manage not to hear her footsteps as she approaches my desk.

"Achem." She clears her throat loudly next to me causing me to nearly fall out of my chair.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?" I try to smile at her but it feels weird.

"And what, pray tell, are these items on your desk?" She gestures to my notebook and gel pens.

"My writing things so I can take notes." I tell her, confused as to how she couldn't see that herself.

"Well, in the future, Miss..." She trails off waiting for me to supply my name.

"Hazel Taylor."

"Ah. Miss Taylor. Next time please bring the more traditional tools. Parchment and quills? Perhaps you might have some somewhere?" She gives me a stern look before prancing back to her desk. She sits and I realize she must have an extra cushion or something, because there is no way she is tall enough to see that high over it.

The last few stragglers sit down under her strict eye, no none daring to talk. As soon as the clock hits the hour she stands.

"Let's begin!"

************

Who else hates Umbridge more than Voldemort?

xoxo <3