MISCHIEF MANAGED// FRED WEASLEY X READER

35. The Worst Transfiguration Class in Y/N's Life

Fred's Disclaimer: The author of this book does not own Harry Potter but she is, in fact, ashamed that she hasn't updated this story in over a year. 

It seemed that all the excitement from the first task had come and gone, like a package of Weasley's Wizard Wheeze fireworks. Not that I was particularly upset about everyone's quick change of heart. It was nice to finally have some peace and quiet around Hogwarts, even with Rita Skeeter sniffing around. 

Her unusual appearance in Hagrid's Magical Creatures class had everyone on edge, especially Harry, who worried she might do something to defile his image publicly, in the Daily Prophet. 

Rather than spend time fretting about Hagrid, that wasn't to say that I didn't have concerns, I was closely focused on figuring out the Golden Egg. 

It was proving to be the worst, most mind-boggling piece of gold (or fake gold) I'd ever set my hands on. Every time I opened the damn thing, it wailed. It didn't help if I screamed back at it, or shook it violently, nor when I threw it out the window of the Astronomy Tower. Nothing seemed to shut it up. 

Fred was no help. 

"Why don't you try singing to it?" He whispered. 

"What a wonderful idea." 

The sarcasm was heavy in my voice, and Fred could sense my annoyance. He focused back on the paper in front of him, as Professor McGonagall prattled on about Transfiguration. It was the only class that Fred and I shared, due to the unfortunate fact that he'd failed his O.W.L on the course last year. 

However, I didn't mind the extra company. 

"Potter! Weasley! Will you please pay attention?" McGonagall's voice shocked me out of my stupor and I lifted my head to see that thankfully, her frustration was angled at my brother. 

Harry and Ron looked up from their loud whispers, and trained their eyes on Professor McGonagall. They had been sword fighting in the back of the classroom, much to Professor's radical annoyance. 

Harry cast a glance at me, and I rolled my eyes. 

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age--" 

Harry's pretend haddock fell to the ground in a heap, and Ron's pirate hat seemed to droop. 

"Yes, well," Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. 

"What a couple of doofuses --" Draco Malfoy's voice, which still rang clear in my head, came from the opposite side of the classroom. Even after the Draught of Potency had long worn off, it was his voice that I heard the loudest. Perhaps he'd added too many Siren Tears, and had accidentally tethered his thoughts to my brain. "God, this class is ridiculous." 

"You're ridiculous," I spoke aloud. Shit. Why must my mouth always act in discordance with my brain? 

Everyone looked at me, and Draco in particular, cast me an ugly, yet surprised stare. 

"What was that, Miss Potter?" Professor inquired, a severe look over the top of her glasses. 

"Nothing, Professor." I said, over the laughter from the other students. 

Fred elbowed me, giving me a confused look. I'd forgotten that I hadn't yet told him about my newfound legilimens power. 

I'd not told anyone, because it occurred to me: how off-putting would it be to know that someone could, at any moment, read your mind? Against your will, against your privacy wishes? 

That would certainly deter someone from spending a lot of time with a legilimens. Also, I had no idea what it truly meant to be a legilimens. It was part of my identity now, yes, but it wasn't something I had the means to understand. 

Even so, I had another lesson with Snape tonight, and hopefully it would prove to be better illuminating than the last one. 

Even though Fred was still eyeing me with a confused, and now slightly concerned expression, I tried my best to turn my attention to Professor McGonagall once more. 

"The Yule Ball is approaching — a traditional part of the Tri-wizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish —"

A surprising amount of shrill giggles echoed from around the room. Parvati Patil nudged Lavender Brown, and the two of them both turned to look at Harry. 

"What a terrible idea." 

That was Ron's voice, that much I knew. 

"Blimey, I've got to talk to a girl?"

And, the beautifully intelligent lament of my brother. Who, in fact, should've been much more comfortable speaking to women, seeing as his sister was one, as was his best friend, Hermione. 

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then —"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to — er — let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice." 

"Bit rich, coming from the woman who never lets her hair so much as touch her shoulders." 

Fred's eyes were still trained on me, and it was as if he'd spoken the joke in my ear, rather than in his head. 

Lavender had now erupted into such raucous giggles that it was impossible for McGonagall to ignore. 

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang at that moment, and I was glad to finally be done with Transfiguration, and the endless murmurs and mumbles of peoples' thoughts. I prayed that Snape taught me how to weed out the uncalled for remarks. 

"Potter," Professor McGonagall spoke. "A word, if you will?" 

Both Harry and I approached her. 

"Not you, Potter." She gestured to Harry. 

Awkwardly, Harry raised a hand at her and then nodded at me, before leaving the room with the rest of the students. Fred didn't so much as say a word to me as he left. 

I wondered about that, but there was just no time to worry about him. Not now, seeing as I had bigger fish, (or Golden Eggs) to fry. 

"Potter, the champions and their partners —"

"What partners?" I choked. 

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at me. 

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."

"Dance partners?" I cocked my head to the side. "No, forgive me, Professor, but I don't dance. I wasn't even planning on attending the Yule Ball, you see, I need time to figure out the second task, and--" 

"That'll be enough, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said wryly, as she hid a smile. "Traditionally, it's the Champions who open the dance. The Champions and their dance partners.." 

"Uh." 

"Won't Mr. Weasley be quite disappointed if he discovers he is partnerless?" 

Won't he just...