Blood Magic ✤ George Weasley ✓

13 - A Sinking Feeling

musical mood: willow - taylor swift

George Weasley couldn't believe his luck when he discovered the Marauders Map, all the way back in his first year. Fred had always been the better prankster - the ideas, the plots, the executions, were all due to his genius, with George more on the sidelines. It was hard not to be jealous of him, when they were supposed to be identical. Why hadn't George got the same brains, the same talent, the same initiative?

But, for once, it had been George's idea to break into Filch's office to find confiscated items to mess around with, George's discovery of a map that seemed to bend to their will, and George's idea to find a duplication spell, so he never had to share his precious find.

Part of the fun that came with the map wasn't the ability to form pranks, but to watch people. He learned the name of every single Hogwarts student, and then some. He knew his way around every inch of the castle, every abandoned classroom, every underground passageway, every exit into Hogsmeade. He knew all the secrets the castle harboured - or most of them, anyway.

He still had no idea who Tom Riddle was - perhaps a ghost with a fascination for Professor Quirrell, since he never seemed to leave his side, or why the last two years Percy, and this year Ron, would sleep in the same bed as a lad called Peter Pettigrew. But it wasn't any of his business, he figured. Sure, his brothers were rather young for that sort of thing, but if they fancied men, the same man for that matter, who was George to object?

After dinner, George was sprawled on his bed, once again people watching his cherished map. Though this time, he wasn't stalking his brothers, or his professors, or even plotting his next prank. No, for the better part of an hour, he had been staring at the swirly name Cassiopeia Crouch, waiting for it to move.

Cassie was always fun to watch - he found her movements more interesting than Ron's, at least. Outside of sleeping with the mysterious Peter Pettigrew, Ron unfortunately didn't do much.

Cassie did a lot, though, every movement of hers more erratic than the next. Her being stuck in Quirrell's closet the other day had been especially interesting, not to mention hilariously out of character. The rare gratitude on her face when he had rescued her had been more rewarding than the water bucket prank by a tenfold.

Now, she was at the sinks in Moaning Myrtle's abandoned bathroom, having not moved an inch since he first spotted her. Sure, this wasn't the first time he'd seen her swirly name there - he was pretty sure that's where she dyed her hair a few days prior. (A poor choice, in George's opinion. Dark brown hair suited her far better.) But she hadn't moved, not even a little, and it wasn't like there was anyone else there keeping her company. At first, it was funny, seeing how long Cassie would remain stationed there, but now he grew worried.

"Oi, Fred." George called out to his brother, pushing himself up from his stomach and into a sitting position.

Fred peaked out from the closet, where he had been going through his clothes for ten minutes, finding a perfect outfit for his Hogsmeade date with Angelina Johnson next weekend. Of course, Fred would never admit it was a date, but George had never seen his brother so smitten.

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna head out, you fancy coming with?"

"Alright." Fred agreed. He never missed an opportunity to break a rule, even one as simple as going in the halls past curfew. "Where exactly are we going, brother-mine?" He asked as they climbed out of the portrait hole, and checked the map to make sure no Professors or Prefects were patrolling near them.

"Myrtle's bathroom."

Fred's eyebrows furrowed together. "Why?"

"'Cause Cassie's been in there for ages and hasn't moved." George checked the map as they turned a corner, confirming she still hadn't moved.