FRACTURED FATES. || FRED WEASLEY

00.04

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, I slowly woke up, stretching beneath the soft, warm blankets that cocooned me. The remnants of my dreams faded like wisps of smoke, leaving behind a mixture of anticipation and dread. Today would be another day filled with lessons, but the looming punishment from Professor Snape at seven o'clock weighed heavily on my mind.

With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool wooden floor against my feet. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and glanced around the room. Lila was still asleep, her chest rising and falling gently, lost in the serenity of slumber. The soft sound of her breathing was a comforting reminder that I wasn't alone in this tumultuous world.

I pulled on my robes, the fabric rough against my skin, and felt a wave of determination wash over me. Today, I would focus on the lessons ahead and push aside the anxiety that threatened to overshadow my thoughts. As I stepped out into the common room, the warmth of the sun seemed to envelop me, a stark contrast to the chilly stone walls of Hogwarts.

The castle bustled with life as I made my way to breakfast. The sounds of laughter and voices echoed through the corridors, mingling with the clinking of silverware and the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries wafting from the Great Hall. I felt a flicker of excitement as I entered the hall, the sight of long tables filled with students making me feel a sense of belonging amidst the chaos.

I sat down at the Slytherin table, grabbing a piece of toast and spreading butter over it while glancing around. Lila was talking animatedly with some of our classmates, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, while Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were engaged in a heated discussion about Quidditch. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the impending doom of my punishment.

Classes passed in a blur, each lesson a whirlwind of incantations, potion ingredients, and the ancient history of magic. I found solace in the rhythm of learning, the familiar cadence of Professor Flitwick's voice during Charms class wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Yet, every time the clock chimed, reminding me of the approaching hour, a knot tightened in my stomach.

When the final class of the day ended, I walked with Lila toward the Potions classroom, the dungeon entrance looming ahead like a dark mouth ready to swallow me whole. The air grew colder as we descended the stone steps, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the walls. I could feel the dread pressing down on me, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum.

I stepped into the room and the scent of herbs and brewing potions enveloped me. My gaze flicked to the front, where Professor Snape stood, his arms crossed and his expression as cold as ever. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. He was the embodiment of authority, and at that moment, he was my worst nightmare.

"Miss Ashbourne," he intoned, his voice smooth yet laced with contempt. "You've arrived just in time."

Swallowing hard, I nodded, trying to maintain composure. The room was dimly lit, and I could sense the tension in the air as students whispered among themselves, their gazes flicking between me and the formidable figure of Snape.

"Your punishment," he continued, "will consist of extra potion assignments and the completion of a detailed essay on the properties of mandrake root. I trust you are aware of the consequences of your actions?" His tone was icy, and I could feel his expectations pressing on me.

"Yes, Professor," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Good," he said curtly. "You will join me at the front. I expect your full attention."

As I made my way to the front of the dimly lit classroom, I noticed Fred Weasley leaning casually against one of the tables. The candlelight cast shadows across his face, accentuating his mischievous grin. He looked annoyingly relaxed, as if the tension didn't affect him at all.