Photograph | fred weasley x fem reader

Chapter Eight: Stressful Studies and a Serious Lack of Sleep

Your third year at Hogwarts was... interesting, to say the least. That was the year Harry Potter started school, and naturally, the entire castle seemed to revolve around this tiny, scared boy with an unruly mop of hair and a lightning-shaped scar. Whispers followed him wherever he went, and before he even set foot in the Great Hall for the first time, there was an unmistakable air of curiosity surrounding him.

The Sorting Ceremony was as dull as ever at first. You'd long since stopped finding the novelty in it and instead spent most of the time pulling faces at Fred and George, who sat at their Gryffindor table opposite you. It was practically tradition now, their not-so-subtle way of keeping you awake as the night wound on.

As Professor McGonagall called out names, you chatted idly with Selene about her summer holidays and which electives she'd chosen. Like you and most of Ravenclaw, Selene had opted for more than the two minimum. 

"Arithmancy looks brutal," she said, poking at her goblet. "But what choice did I have? I can't believe you picked Divination, it's a bunch of old tosh." 

You laughed quietly and nodded as Selene moaned about crystal balls and tea cups. Listening to her pained rant, you glanced toward the two identical orange-topped heads that beamed from the red-clad table. You raised your eyebrows at them and shook your head, silently complaining about how hungry you were. Can Dumbledore just wave his wrinkly hands already and get this feast started?  You telepathically whined.

Then, just as the twins opened their mouths to say something, the hall fell silent. You looked up to see Professor McGonagall holding the Sorting Hat and, for once, an expression that held more than her regular sternness. "Potter, Harry," she called, her voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through everyone's ears. The once-chattering crowd froze in awe.

Every eye turned to the front of the hall, watching the small boy shuffle nervously toward the stool. Even the staff table seemed riveted. You glanced at Snape out of the corner of your eye and noticed he appeared very miserable- even more so than usual. He looked almost...pained? Or maybe just constipated. You smirked to yourself at the thought.

Fred caught your eye from across the room and immediately mimicked Snape's sour face, scowling dramatically and pouting his bottom lip out. The expression caught you off guard, and you had to clamp your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing loudly. You snickered silently into your palms, desperately trying to hold it together. Only a few Ravenclaw heads briefly turned to glance at you. Selene giggled as a small wheeze escaped you. 

Fred and George were stifling their laughter at your pained, bright red face, their shoulders shaking as they doubled over in their seats silently. Fred winked at you triumphantly as if he'd just won some invisible game, while you made a silent vow to pelt him with the heaviest textbook you could find.

Bursting your little bubble with the twins, the manky old hat suddenly called out, splitting the thick silence that hung in the air of the school. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" The ratty thing yelled, and the Gryffindor table erupted in the loudest cheers you'd ever heard in all your time at Hogwarts. Fred and George were the loudest of all, leaping to their feet and chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

You laughed as you watched the two of them danced on their seats. Fred threw you a look across the hall, as if to say, See? Even Potter knows where the fun is.

You shook your head and turned back to Selene, who was grinning at the chaos of cheering students. After the commotion had fully died down, which took several more Sortings, another familiar name rang through the hall: "Weasley, Ronald!"

The hat barely grazed his ginger head before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, clapping loudly and cheering along with the Gryffindor table.