reality ◦ fred weasley

• WHO ARE YOU, REALLY? •

chapter twelve; who are you, really?

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ONCE AGAIN, HARRY had become the talk of the school. There was not a single student who didn't want to know how he had gotten into the Triwizard Tournament.

Robyn did not see how anyone in their right mind could believe that Harry would want to be in the competition. He'd had one too many dramatic events happen to him in his life already - it seemed that every year since he had arrived at Hogwarts, something odd had happened to him.

For some ridiculous reason, Ron believed that Harry had voluntarily entered his name into the Goblet of Fire, and had started an argument with him. Ron thought that Harry had lied to him and not told him that he was entering. He needed to be there for his friend now more than ever, and in Robyn's opinion he was being incredibly selfish.

"He better not think he can sit with us," George said, watching his younger brother warily as he entered the Great Hall.

"Of course he doesn't," Fred scoffed. "Imagine having our little brother tagging along with us all the time, it'd completely ruin our look."

"Your look?" echoed Robyn. "And what look is that? The egotistical, does not think about the needs of others look?"

"No, the masculine and handsome look," George replied as though it was obvious. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay.

"There, see? He knows he's not sitting here." Fred nodded as Ron chose to sit with Seamus and Dean, who were in his year.

"Honestly, you two are so mean. I don't even know why I hang about with you sometimes," Robyn sighed, though she was trying to hide her amusement.

"Because you have no other friends," George told her.

"Aw, that's unfair. She has at least three other friends," said Tyler, grinning. She glared at him and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of dozens of wings flapping from above them, signalling the arrival of the postal owls.

Seconds later, Hugo landed on the table in front of Robyn, successfully knocking over the juice pitcher and sending pumpkin juice halfway down the table.

"Well done, Hugo," said Fred, applauding sarcastically. The little owl hooted in indignation, flapping his wings importantly. He stuck his leg out and Robyn untied the letter which was attached to it. She unrolled the parchment impatiently, reading over the messy scrawl of writing.

To Robyn,

First, you're completely forgiven for not writing to me for the past five years. Well, I mean, not really, but what's done is done. However, I think we need to meet up as soon as possible for a Butterbeer, or a Firewhisky, whatever you're down for.

Second, I can tell you now that things aren't as they seem at Hogwarts. There's something going on behind the scenes; I read about Harry Potter being entered into the Triwizard Tournament, and it seems like someone is conducting this whole thing. I've never met the kid, but he doesn't seem like the type to enter himself into a competition where he might be killed.

What's worrying me most about all this is the 'vision' you had. It doesn't sound to me like a normal vision and I think I may have some of the answers you're searching for. That's why I want you to meet up with me sooner rather than later, so we can go through everything that's happening.

If you want to talk, then please reply to this letter with the date of your first Hogsmeade visit.

Be careful who you trust.