Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(22) Who Are You

All of the students were given a free period that afternoon, after finding out about Peeves having one of his bad days. Apparently, the poltergeist took it upon himself to pester each and every single one of the Hogwarts professors as a way to channel out his foul mood. And it resulted to Dumbledore cancelling an hours worth of classes, which will not resume until someone put a stop to Peeves.

Nicolai had decided that it was best if she slept in for the whole hour, leaving her friends to sneak back up to the dorms. But she wasn't going to sleep, but instead work on her plot to somehow grab ahold of Florence's protean, so from there she could use it to meet with her secret pen pal and finally find out about his identity.

Alexander meanwhile, had to attend to prefect duties, along with the rest of them who were called in to help in stopping Peeves from whatever awful thing he has up his sleeves. Florence, on the other hand, sat solemnly at a corner in the library, surrounded by books as she finished off the assignments given to her in the morning.

She head a small thump, to be followed by three chairs being dragged over to her table, three people occupying it. Sat beside her was Fred, Lee Jordan and George sitting opposite to them. The twins twinkled their eyes at her while Jordan gave her a friendly waved.

Florence huffed, dipping her quill into her ink as she scribbled down more words, "What would you three possibly want?" she said, eyes not leaving her parchment. Fred scooted his chair closer to Florence, peering at her paper only to have Florence scoot further away from him.

"Go away, Weasley." she said, pointing a finger at Fred, "Or I'll poke your eye with my quill." she threatened, resuming her work as the two others snickered.

"Oh come on, Price. Why don't you let go of what you're working on and relax for a bit? It's s rarity that they give free periods in between classes." Fred suggested, putting his feet up the table.

"Thank Peeves for that," said Jordan, who mimicked Fred's actions, then George. "A saint. That's what he is."

By this time all three of them had put their feet on the table, their dirty soles exposed for her eyes to see. Florence mumbled an incantation under her breath, flicking her wand in the most unnoticeable way.

Their chairs toppled over, including the three who did a small backflip because of this. The loud crashing was followed by a violent sound of shushing, Madame Irma Pince glowering at the four from her table. Florence became perplexed, as she had never gotten scolded in the library ever before.

"Now you just got me scolded." she said reprovingly, the three groaning boys gaping at her incredulously. "Oh so we got you in to trouble now?" scoffed Fred, "Yeah, I'm sure we weren't the ones who flipped the bloody chairs." said George, whereas Jordan continued rubbing his head.

"We just wanted some company, Price." said Fred as the three of them sat back down on their chairs. "I feel like that's synonymous to you want to burn down a shelf of books and leave me to take the blame."

Jordan chuckled, "It does mean that sometimes."

"But in all fairness, we really have nothing else to do."

"Shame," Florence said pityingly, "Whereas I, have homework to do. So, please go and bother someone else." she said, Fred hastily snatching up her parchment, reading the contents.