Sketchbook ~ A George Weasley Fanfiction

Chapter Three - The Goblet of Fire

I sat on my bed, finishing up a potions essay. I leaned on my book for support as I racked my brain for information regarding the topic. At my old school, my potions professor was a lot. . . kinder than my new potions professor here at Hogwarts. Professor Snape was a tough teacher, and while I respected a challenge, Snape seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. I mean, he took points away from my house for pronouncing a potion incorrectly. Which is so weird. Why do they even have house points? Do you get a prize or something for having the most?

Through all my justified concentration of thinking of painful ways Snape could die and trying to figure out why house points even matter, I didn't realize there was another presence sitting across from me on my bed.

"Aren't you planning on watching people put their names in the goblet for the Triwizard Tournament?" I jumped at the sudden voice, but looked up to see none other than Hermione Granger. Over my two months at Hogwarts, I haven't gotten any closer to my fellow classmates, other than Fred and George, surprisingly. Lavender and I still maintained a friendship, but I think my novelty wore off and she doesn't latch onto me anymore. Also, I can now find my way around Hogwarts (somewhat), so she doesn't have that to hold over my head anymore. As for Hermione and I, well, we made small efforts to try and get to know each other, but every conversation ended the same; in an awkward, unbearable silence.

"I wasn't planning on it," I said. I didn't see what the point was. Dumbledore was going to announce the champions anyways. She didn't leave, though, when I said that. "If you've got something to say, then you can go ahead and say it, you know."

"Pardon?" she looked taken aback.

"You can say whatever it is you want to say to me. I mean, that's why you're still here, right?"

Hermione looked hesitant to respond, but I should have known that once I got the girl started, she wouldn't stop. "Well, it's just really strange that you transferred here. I don't recall that's ever happened in Hogwarts history. It all just seems so bloody bizarre and I know you mentioned something about getting a letter and I was wondering if you knew anything about what the letter had said or who sent it. Also, why would they send you to a school that was so far away from where your home is? Aren't you a bit curious as to why?"

I don't think she took a breath during that entire thing.

"Of course I'm curious. I've asked dozens of times in my letters to my parents, but they always avoid the question. I mean they probably don't know themselves either. They don't know a lot about magic since they are No-majs and-"

"No-majs?" she asked, cutting me off.

"Oh, right. What do you call them here? Mugs?" I asked, remembering for the thousandth time that things are different here.

"Muggles," she corrected.

"Yeah, those."

"So you're a muggleborn?" she asked.

"Is that someone who was born to non-magical parents?" At her nod, I continued, "I could be."

At her confused expression, I decided to elaborate, "I was adopted, so I really don't know who my biological parents are. I was put up for adoption when I was one or two I think, and my parents told me it was a closed adoption. My parents even sent a mutual consent form to the orphanage, but it was sent back unopened."

"That's strange." 

"Nah, it probably just means that my biological parents are dead and that's why I was put up for adoption."

"Doesn't that bother you at all?" Hermione asked.

"Why would it? I have a family. I mean, I guess I'm curious, but I got lucky. If my parents died, I could have wound up stuck in that orphanage."