Harry Potter Oneshots

In a New Light (George Weasley)

Fifth year brought with it a disgusting pink beast by the name of 'Professor' Umbridge. With a squat body, pig eyes, and a consistently enormous frilly bow on top of her head, she was the stuff of nightmares. Hogwarts' nightmares, to be precise.

Near every single person within the halls despised her with a burning passion, and I didn't blame anyone for it. It was the one thing uniting the four houses, well, three of the houses and some of Slytherin.

I was the last person to actively participate in perpetuation of the Slytherin stereotype, and I couldn't help but feel burning rage inside of me when I saw the Inquisitorial Squad patrolling the halls smugly. They shot everyone else condescending looks and sneers, as if they were superior because a bubblegum toad proclaimed them to be. I disliked those of Slytherin who took advantage of the new rules, not only because they are doing horrible things but because they are not helping their house's predicament.

At the head of the Inquisitorial Squad was Draco Malfoy, the sneer he reserved for Gryffindors plastered to his thin lips. Contrary to popular belief, many Slytherins disliked him and his snotty attitude, which was the very reason I was out after curfew.

"Are you sure about this?" My dormmate and best friend whispers. She winces at her every footfall, terrified of getting caught. I roll my eyes at her timidity.

"Come on, Flint," I snap to which she flinches. I inhale deeply and screw my eyes shut for a few seconds to calm down then amend my tone. "If you're so paranoid you're going to get us caught."

She whimpers but closes her mouth tighter. I was always the one to pressure her into things, whether it's trying the suspicious drink at a party or go out with the shaking Puff who'd asked her out. Of course, neither of those things turned out well, but at least she had a new experience. If it were up to her she'd be asleep by eight sharp every day.

We creep along the halls until we reach our destination: Umbridge's office. I grin widely and slip inside, leaving Flint outside to keep watch as we'd decided earlier.

Imagine my surprise when I see someone else already rummaging through the pig's drawers, seemingly unaware of me. My eyes widen, then I relax; there was no way the muscular figure in front of me was Umbridge. I cast a silent lumos and breathe a sigh of relief when the intruder is revealed.

"Weasley."

The boy in question jumps six feet high. "Bloody — what's the point of a lookout if he can't pay attention!" His eyes fall on me and he scowls.

"Wayne," he sneers in a much more distasteful tone than I had. His stance is angry and tense and I furrow my brows.

"What're you doing here?"

"How about you slither on back to the dungeons and I'll keep doing what I'm doing?" He asks, returning to his search for . . . something, that much was clear.

"I know you're in here looking around for something," I point out. "You could always just tell me what it is and I could help you find it in half the time."

"No way am I giving you information to give back to that boggart," he claims. "I'll take whatever punishment she'll give me, you'll see!"

I roll my eyes and gently push him aside, opening and closing the drawers myself. "How noble," I drawl, voice dripping with sarcasm as I search. "Although maybe an arrangement where neither of us turn the other in would be ideal?"

He steps farther away from me and I breathe easier; that man sure could fill a room. I resist the urge to blush as his eyes bear holes into my cheeks and instead lift a brow. "Well? We've got ten more minutes until the next cycle of her idiotic fan club so I'd suggest we move quickly."