*★* WATTPAD FRIENDS AND FAMILY, WATTPAD FEATURED STORY & 2017 WATTYS WINNER!! *★* Preceded by rumors of their prophetic birth, pure-blood twins, Fred and George Weasley, follow in the footsteps of their three older brothers by attending a school for...
As the next vision formed, the journey was more chaotic. It took slightly longer for the elements around them to settle and solidify. And then —
They were standing at the very top of the portrait gallery in the moving stairwell. The space appeared deserted, and the group of eight onlookers thought they were alone, until they heard the faint sound of someone sobbing nearby. Fred and George knew at once that it was Hagrid. They recognized his bawling from the day he had lost Witherwings. And then they saw him, as a staircase glided gently across the chamber and came to a stop. He was sitting on the center steps, nearly taking up the width of the staircase, and crying into his hands.
"That was awful," said Fred, meeting George's eyes. The older Hagrid nodded miserably.
"We would never have treated you that way," said George, before catching a sad glimpse of his brother's thoughts. It made George realize that, if anyone would have joked about a boy that large and bumbling, it would have been the Weasley twins.
As the spectators from the Pensieve climbed the stairs, some watching the younger Hagrid through a different set of eyes than before, the sound of many voices reverberated in the space. They grew louder by the second. The boy sniffed and wiped a tear from his flushed cheeks. He leaned toward the banisters and peered down, as lines of babbling students wove along the moving staircases across the six floors below. There was very little that could be heard beyond the discussion of the 'Gargantuan Hag-rid' who had destroyed the sorting stool.
It was clear from the louder prefects that they were being led to their house common rooms. The group of eight stood in quiet reflection for what felt like a very long time, until the stairwell was empty once more. Hagrid, the neglected first year, was alone, and now he didn't even know where to find the Hufflepuff dormitories, if at least to seek escape in the comforts of a warm bed. They could see the very moment when reality set in that he was lost in a vast castle, and that no one was coming to look for him.
Eventually, the large boy left the stairs. Not for any real reason, but because he found a discarded feather quill on the fifth floor landing and busied himself by seeing how far he could throw it across the stairwell. The onlookers were patient, and tried to interpret the reason they had been brought to that place by observing everything in the vicinity, even if Mr. Filch was getting antsy. And then the twins saw what was going to happen. The feather quill looped freely in the magically illuminated air and swooped into the fourth floor corridor — the very corridor that would be discovered by their brother Percy in fifty years. When young Hagrid, wearing a lopsided smile, lurched after the quill, they followed him swiftly.
The long corridor was not at all dissimilar to how it currently appeared. It was still very dark and foreboding, without the placement of a noble statue or a row of torch brackets. There were paintings scattered along the walls, and it was lit by very few taper candles. As the ungainly boy reached down to retrieve the quill, they heard a gentle, little voice.
"Hello."
Slowly, Hagrid turned to find a painted young girl, roughly his age, in a worn wooden frame across the hall. She was sitting on a tufted, green velvet chair that was carved in ornate mystical designs, crowded in the shade of many haunted trees and beside a black pool of undulating water.
"What's your name?" she asked, as a hissing serpent prowled across the scorched earth below her feet.
"Rubeus Hagrid," he said, somewhat surprised. The boy shuffled to the frame.
"That's a strange name. Pleasure to meet you," the girl in the portrait spoke. She tilted her head curiously. "You're different."
He sighed. "Caught tha', did yeh?"
"It's delightful. I've seen so many of the same faces, year after year. You must be a new student, Rubeus. I would remember someone like you."
"I jus' got ter the castle, actually. Don' quite fit, though."
"I doubt you fit most places," she said with a giggle. When he failed to smile, she left her chair and moved to the foreground. "That means we're the same age."
"Tha' right? How old are yeh?"
"Eleven," she said sweetly, as the corridor darkened to black.
Most of the group was stunned silent, unsure of exactly what they had witnessed. It wasn't until the swimming fog began to shift that the twins rushed forward and said what everyone was thinking.
"That was Aruzula Darc!" George exclaimed, spotting that she was even younger in her portrait than in the photograph they had uncovered in the Restricted Section.
Fred turned to face the older Hagrid, looking shocked. "She's inside the painting?!"
As the vision clarified, they found themselves in the same dark corridor. Behind them, students were passing through the portrait gallery in droves, climbing the staircases and discussing their lessons cheerfully. And then everyone moved aside with scornful expressions, as young Hagrid hurdled around the corner and came trotting forward, balancing a stack of books. The group observing from within the Pensieve watched intently, as he dropped his supplies carelessly and rushed to the painting.
The twins looked closer at her now. The girl within the portrait was unmistakably the painted figure of a young Aruzula Darc. She was already out of her chair and standing at the edge of her aged frame with a grin of anticipation.
"It's good to see you again, Rubeus!"
"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Be here all day, if I could."
"Are your classes getting easier? What of those boys you told me about? Are they still pestering you?"
His smile sank in a large, recognizable frown. "Think I'm headin' home ter my pappy. None o' them care 'bout me. Half don' even remember I got a bloody firs' name! Not a single friend in the lot."
"I'm your friend, Rubeus," she said charmingly.
His smile returned. "I know yeh are. But it's not as if yeh're real, is it?"
She stepped back from the frame and looked up at him, repulsed by his words. The girl crossed her arms and stood rigidly high, resembling Angelina's favorite anti-George posture during the throes of Amortentia. The snake left the decayed, black undergrowth and reared up at him, then wove around the painted girl's legs in the endless outline of an hourglass.
"I'm sorry," said Hagrid. "I jus' —"
"How could you say such a thing?"
"I only meant...I mean...yer a paintin'," he stammered.
The portrait of young Aruzula Darc turned her back to him.
"I'd be right chuffed if yeh was a real girl. Think of all the adventures we could have! Maybe if yeh were a ghost...least then we could spend time together," he persisted guiltily. "But yer not. I guess wha' I'm sayin' is...I'm a'right with tha'."
"What if there was a way?" she asked, after much thought.
The younger Hagrid looked puzzled. Then the vision began to break apart, and the twins twisted to face Dumbledore. When the conversation carried on into the darkness, his eyes widened with worry.
"A way? Ter make yeh real?"
"You believe in magic, don't you, Rubeus?" she replied, her soft voice fading. "Magical things happen at this school every day."
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