𝓓𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 - [EDITING]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

With a flick of their wrist, the bartender magically mops up the butterbeer puddle as though it was never there.

"Gwen, your hand is bleeding!"

Sure enough, the glass shards carved a thick gash in my palm, but I'm too distracted by the Minister to register the pain. What in Peeves' name is he doing here?

"Gwen!"

"I- yeah, I know," I mutter absently. My eyes never stray from the Minister. "I just gotta..."

Is he the one they send to arrest someone? Well, he would be sending himself. He might oversee the arrests, but why would he oversee mine? If I'm getting arrested. I'm not that important. All I did was- ok, I take that back. Maybe my... crimes could warrant the Minister's arrival, but even then, wouldn't someone else actually arrest me? Probably some Aurors, maybe even Dementors. That would make it real easy. Just bring in a Dementor and I can't fight back.

Never thought I'd ever follow un my parents footsteps, but look at me now! Murderer like my dad? Half check. Azkaban prisoner? Soon-to-be check!

Fudge turns in my direction. I dive headfirst into the floor as though it could save me and peer up through my eyelashes. Fred and George are completely baffled at my sides and try to help me up, get me to talk, anything, but I'm entranced.

"Gwen, snap out of it!"

The Minister's gaze catches on something behind me. "Minerva!"

"Good day, Minister," she says. Professor McGonagall stands and walks towards the man. So... maybe I overreacted. Maybe he wasn't here for me. "Are you quite alright, Macnair?"

Fred and George both stiffen beside me and start to reply, but I cut them off loudly. "Yes, Professor. Just a prank we're working on. Thank you Professor!"

Smooth Gwen. Real smooth.

The Minister finally takes notice of me. "Ah, Macnair, you say? As in-" McGonagall nods and he chuckles. "Didn't even see you there. Erm, stay out of trouble. That looks very real."

"What..." The words catch in my throat as Fudge, McGonagall, and Madam Rosmerta walk off. I look down. My hands are red with blood and my leggings are wet from the butterbeer. My heart pounds in my chest. I hadn't realized how nervous I'd truly been.

Wincing, I slowly look up with a sheepish smile on my face as my eyes meet the twins'. Two sets of blue eyes stare unabashedly, ginger-brown eyebrows scrunched in mirrored confusion and concern.

"Um..." I don't know what to say. I don't have a good explanation. They won't let me off without one. "I'm gonna go wash up."

I scramble to my feet and practically run to the bathroom. Both of the boys jump up to stop me, but smash their heads into the counter. I wince in sympathy as I slip through the door to the girl's toilets.

My hands sting as I run cool water over the cuts and watch the diluted pink liquid spiral down the drain. "F- ferula."

Clean white bandages wrap themselves around the wounds and ease the stinging ever so slightly. I know better than to try a spell to heal them. Healing spells gone wrong are the kind of things you end up in Saint Mungo's for and I don't trust my charmwork that much. I'll just ask Madam Pomfrey to put some sort of ointment on it when we get back to the castle.

"Gwen!" One of the twins said, rapping a fist against the door. "What in the name of Merlin himself is going on?"

I'd sooner crawl into a hole and die than explain what's going on to the pair of them. When I glance up at the mirror, my own green eyes stare right back at me. My face is paler than usual, a hefty feat, and dark circles signify the lack of sleep I've gotten. I look like a zombie and I might as well be one with the way I'd been acting. Terror's viselike grip was wrapped around my neck and I still pay dearly for it. I squeeze my eyes closed and lean against the sink for support.

"Gwen!"

I'm afraid if I open my mouth, I'll lose it. I don't want to have a break down. I don't want to be weak. I don't want them to see me like this. I don't know what's wrong with me. Why can't I summon the smile that took so long to perfect? Why can't I think of a single snarky remark or joking banter? Why do I just want to cry?

"Gwenog Gormeisa Macnair, if you don't open this door right now, we're coming in!" The boys declare.

I'd thought they'd forgotten my middle name, but apparently not. Still, I got off lucky that that was all they'd discovered from a glimpse at the files in Filch's office. All of third year had been Gormeisa this, Gormeisa that. Quite an awful reminder that my parents would always be stuck to me.

"Give me just a minute," I say weakly, slipping down to the tiled floor and leaning against the wall. Give me just a minute to return to my senses and come up with some atrocious lie to cover up my psychotic break down.

The door swings open. "Not the deal!"

The twins walk in and take in the scene in front of them. Luckily for them, I'm the only one in the bathroom, otherwise they'd be screamed at. Fred is first to drop beside me, but George follows in suit.

"Gwen, you've been acting strangely practically all year," George says.

"We're your friends and we're worried about you," says Fred.

"Please tell us what's going on," they say in sync.

Tears prick my eyes. "I- I can't tell you. It'll only make things worse."

The last thing I want to do is push them away, but if they knew... they'd be gone forever.

"Gwen, you can't really believe that!"

"We can help," George pleads.

I made this mess, now I have to clean it up. It's not their problem. "Another time," I plead.

"No, Gwen," Fred insists, holding on to my shoulders when I try to stand up. I've lost my fight against the tears and they fall freely down my face with quiet sobs. "Tell us now."

"You don't understand!"

George butts in. "But we could. If you would tell us!"

"No!" I pinch my eyes shut only for my mind's eye to be filled with images of their shocked expressions when they know what I've done, where I come from. "I can't!"

"Why not?" Fred looks like he's about to cry now which startles me, especially since he's always been just slightly better at putting on a smile. "Gwen, please."

"We're not leaving until you tell us what's going on!" George's ears are red with frustration.

I don't know what to say. I don't think I could say anything even if I knew, but I don't have to. The door to the bathroom opens and none other than Himari and a few girls from the year right below us enter.

They scream. "This is the girl's toilets! Get out!"

Two words I never thought would come to mind pop into my head: thanks Himari.