❛ THE DARKEST HOUR OF THE DARKEST DAY
COMES RIGHT BEFORE THE DAWN. ❜
in which a certain weasley twin enlists
the help of a hufflepuff prefect.
𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙊𝙄𝙉𝙂
― george weasley x oc
― goblet...
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WREN HATES STAIRS. And by hates she really means despises. The number of stairs she has to climb that night is utterly ridiculous and the rest of the group aren't too pleased either, from what she can gather. In fact, the only optimistic person out of the group is Mr Weasley, who still insists that, wherever they are climbing to, it is going to be worth it. By the time they've reached the halfway point, Wren has already latched herself onto Oliver's green and white scarf and she's pretty sure she might be near suffocating him as he steps on in front of her.
"Another step and I think I'm going to vomit," Wren moans, stepping up further into the sharp incline of the stadium. She clutches her Ireland scarf with her spare hand and mimes being sick onto the woollen fabric.
"Hey!" Arran wails from behind her, "I bought you that scarf!"
"I'd be sick on your head and you still wouldn't complain as much," she retorts back down to her younger brother, who later gently kicks her calf with the end of his shoe in retaliation. She sighs, crouching down to half-heartedly console the pain in her calf, and stands quickly to strech her head up to glance at the front of the group. "I hate to be a pain, but are we almost there?"
"Almost?" The Weasley Twins laugh from a distance, climbing up the deathly staircase just a few moments away from Wren and undoubtedly loving the view.
"It's like climbing a mountain," Maybe George exclaims excitedly, wondering if in his life he would in fact climb a mountain higher than the stairwell to the Quidditch World Cup stadium.
"Or worse," Possibly Fred finishes, "the Ravenclaw tower!"
Arran chuckles from behind, the sort of infectious laughter that catches Wren in a spout of joy too. "It's not that bad. The stairs are actually the easy part. . . It's the riddle that makes you question your life choices."
Yet Wren still disagrees. The Ravenclaw Tower cannot possibly compare to the severity of this climb. Even running up the Tower is an easier task (and she had done so on many occasions — usually due to Arran forgetting his Quidditch practice, or letting him know that Fern had recieved a howler from their mother). These wretched steps are surely on another level. So much so, that Oliver is clinging to the railings. Wren has never seen him pale at heights before.
After three dozen or so more steps, the group comes to a level with purple carpeted flooring. Wren turns back, hauls Arran up the last two steps with a tug on his collar, and witnesses the last few stragglers make their way over the final two steps.
