Golden Girl; 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂

Fifth Year: The Boggart and The Brawl

The classroom buzzed with anticipation, a low murmur of chatter filling the air as students shuffled to their seats, quills tapping restlessly against parchment. It was the first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year, and there was a definite air of curiosity—Professor Lupin, their new teacher, had yet to show up. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, and some of the students were starting to glance at the door with raised eyebrows.

Bambi, Fred, George, and Lee had claimed seats in the back corner of the classroom, all four of them perched on their chairs at varying angles, as though the desks were merely an afterthought. George was busy doodling something ridiculous on the corner of his parchment—a giant squid in a top hat—while Fred was leaning back precariously in his chair, balancing a crumpled piece of parchment on the tip of his wand.

"What d'you reckon he's like, this Lupin fellow?" Lee mused, his feet propped up on the desk as he twirled his quill between his fingers. "Couldn't be worse than Lockhart, surely."

"That's setting the bar pretty low, though," Bambi pointed out, her quill scratching across her own parchment as she signed her own name over and over on a bit of parchment she intended to use for notes, dotting the 'i' in 'Bambi' with a little swirl. "If he just walks in and doesn't try to sign autographs, he'll already be an improvement."

Fred's chair landed back on the floor with a thud. "Apparently, he was mates with Harry's dad," he said, glancing around as though to make sure no one else was eavesdropping. "Heard Dad and Mum talking about it over the summer." He said, picking up his chair and rubbing his backside.

Bambi raised an eyebrow, "Your Mum knew him?"

Fred nodded, then shrugged, "Well, sort of. She had brothers who knew him. Part of the Order." He said this in a low voice, as if he wasn't sure he was supposed to be talking about that or not.

Bambi blinked, taken aback. "She had brothers?" she mouthed, almost to herself.

She had never heard anyone speak of Molly Weasley's brothers before—not in all the visits to the Burrow, not in the countless times Molly had clucked over them like a mother hen. It seemed impossible, somehow, that the woman who always made sure their plates were full and knitted them jumpers had brothers lost to a war that had, until now, felt like a story from a time long past.

The First Wizarding War had always been something distant and abstract—terrible, yes, but something that happened to other people. She knew the Potters had been affected, of course. Harry's story was famous for that reason; everyone knew about how the war had orphaned him. But in the countless retellings of how Harry had been left alone, no one ever spoke about how others had lost, too. It was as if the world had focused so much on the Boy Who Lived that it had forgotten the others who hadn't lived at all.

She glanced over at Fred, who was busy righting his chair, as if he hadn't just causally let slip this big piece of information.

"Fred?" Bambi started, unsure of what she was going to ask, but before she could put any of her countless messy thoughts into words, the door creaked open once again.

Professor Lupin strolled into the room, a kind yet slightly nervous look on his face. "Good afternoon, er..." he said, trailing off as his eyes glanced down to view the syllabus from the pile of papers in his arms, "Fifth years," he greeted them with a tired yet warm looking smile.

Up close, Bambi could see that his Professor Lupin, while young looking, appeared weary and worn. His eyes, a deep, warm amber, scanned over the students. His robes were frayed along the edges, and the briefcase he held was tattered and looked a few seconds away from breaking. Bambi figured he must have used quite a few charms to hold it together.