Photograph | fred weasley x fem reader

Chapter Nine: You Haven't Got a Choice

"You should have seen Snape's face when I said the answer was Veritaserum!" Ishani whined, throwing her head into her hands. She sighed loudly and shook her head, the large white feathers of her costume dancing. 

You reached out and patted her back, as you sipped on a spoonful of the delicious butternut squash soup. "It's alright, Shan," you said lightly, trying to reassure her. "We can always hex him into giving you full marks if you'd like. Or," you added with a sly grin, "I could convince the twins to sneak something into his lunch?"

Ishani peeked up at you, a reluctant smile pulling at her lips. "As tempting as that is, I'd rather not be the reason Snape turns a bright shade of purple or starts Irish jigging uncontrollably."

The mental image made you chuckle. Ah, what you would give to see the moody old Potions teacher dancing about like a Leprechaun. "Fair point," you conceded, leaning back slightly. "But we could still plan something harmless but... memorable. Nothing too destructive—just enough to make his day interesting."

Ishani sat up straighter, eyeing you sceptically. "What, like charming his chalk so it always slips out his hands?"

You laughed, nodding along and biting off a large chunk of thick buttered bread. "Look at you., brewing mischief. While we're at it, we could enchant his parchment so it sings Celestina Warbeck whenever he writes on it."

Ishani grinned and opened her mouth to respond, but was rudely interrupted by a paper aeroplane wizzing through the air towards you. It performed a neat little loop before hitting you right on the forehead and landing in your bread. Startled, you looked around the room for a moment, only to spot Fred and George waving eagerly at you from the Gryffindor table, their grins bright and mischievous. 

You grinned back and unfolded the plane to read a hastily scribbled note in Fred's familiar hand writing: We may or may not have put Giggling Gasballs in Dumbledore's goblet...

Your eyes widened eagerly and your stomach did an excited little flip. You were so eager to see Dumbledore start laughing uncontrollably that you didn't even question how on earth they'd managed to pull this off. 

You slipped the note into your pocket, and wagged your finger at the boys as if to disapprove of them, pulling your best disappointed-Mrs-Weasley expression. They responded with exaggerated innocent expressions and fluttering eyelashes, earning a hearty laugh from you. 

You then looked to the staff table, where Dumbledore was chatting animatedly with Professor McGonagall, his eyes twinkling brightly- this year, the headmaster had requested everyone wear their best Halloween costumes for the feast. 

Amusingly, they'd come as each other: Dumbledore wore shimmering green robes, a pointed black hat and had pulled his hair into a tidy plait, while McGonagall sported a long floor-length beard, a lilac robe and half-moon spectacles. 

You'd spent days working hard in your dorm to make sure your costume was perfect. You transfigured one of your father's old coats into a sweeping black cape, charming a mop head into a greasy wig, and crafting a hooked nose out of a transfigured sock. When you entered the Great Hall, Fred, George, and Lee had collapsed in laughter at the sight of your very brilliant—and very accurate—Snape costume.

Fred and George had swapped clothes for the night, fully committing to their roles as each other. Fred mimicked George's relaxed and bright demeanour, smiling politely and speaking in an unbothered tone. "Blimey, Fred," he said, gesturing lazily toward his twin, "you've got to stop pranking everyone all the time—so immature."

George, meanwhile, had adopted Fred's trademark energetic gestures, clapping Fred on the back with excessive enthusiasm and grinning like a maniac. "Oh, come on, George!" he countered dramatically, puffing out his chest. "Lighten up, mate! You've got to enjoy life once in a while!"