WILDEST DREAM ➛ʜ.ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡɪɴ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

012

Ron's mood was unbearable.

As I sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, it was impossible to ignore the storm brewing in Ron Weasley's expression. His face was a mixture of jealousy and anger, and anyone could tell he was fuming, though most of us were pretending not to notice.

The way he looked at Harry now—like Harry was the enemy, not his best friend—was downright infuriating. Anytime Harry's name was mentioned, Ron's lips pressed into a thin line, and his face darkened.

This morning was no different.

Ron stabbed at his sausages as though they were to blame for all his problems, grumbling under his breath. When Seamus mentioned Harry's name in passing, Ron let out a loud scoff.

"Of course he gets to be the champion," Ron muttered bitterly. "Why wouldn't he? Golden Boy, after all."

I dropped my knife and fork onto my plate with a clatter. "Honestly, Ron, if you're so jealous of my brother, maybe you should've tried slipping your name into the Goblet yourself. I'm sure it would've been just as happy to spit it out."

Hermione winced beside me, but I wasn't about to back down.

"Jealous?" Ron snapped, his ears going red. "Of Harry? As if!"

I raised an eyebrow and went back to cutting my egg toast. "Could've fooled me," I said dryly, taking a bite.

Before Ron could respond, Fred and George slid onto the bench, flanking me on either side. Fred nudged me playfully. "Morning, Madeline," he said with a grin. "Still babysitting our dear brother, I see?"

George leaned in from the other side, smirking at Ron. "Cheer up, Ronniekins. You're sulking so much it's scaring the first-years."

"I am not sulking!" Ron shot back, glaring at them.

Fred snorted. "Oh, sorry—brooding. Is that better?"

Hermione groaned softly, and I shook my head at the twins. "You're not helping," I muttered, though a small part of me wanted to laugh at their antics.

But the twins weren't done.

"Honestly, Ron," George said, leaning back with a mock-serious expression. "If you're going to mope, at least do it with some flair. Maybe borrow Percy's quill and write some sad poetry about betrayal and woe."

"Or better yet," Fred added, "write a heartfelt letter to Harry about how much you miss being his sidekick."

That was the final straw. Ron shoved his chair back and stood abruptly, his face as red as his hair. "You two are impossible!" he snapped, grabbing his bag. "I'm done with this."

"Don't forget to sign your poem, 'Love from Ron,'" Fred called after him.

Ron stormed off, Seamus following behind him with an amused but cautious look.

I turned to the twins, giving them my best death glare. "Was that really necessary?"

Fred and George exchanged identical grins and shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Mads," Fred said, feigning innocence. "He needed a little push."

George nodded. "Yeah, he'll thank us later."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, grabbing my bag. "You two are hopeless," I said, though I couldn't keep the corner of my mouth from twitching.

Hermione tugged at my sleeve. "Let's go find Harry," she said. "I brought some toast for him."

We left the Great Hall, making our way up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione clutched the napkin-wrapped toast like it was a peace offering, and I tried to shake off the tension from breakfast.