Lumos

Chapter Four: "Igniculus"

George

Friday, October 30, 1994

George stared across the table at Angelina with envy. Although a member of their year, the lucky witch had an early birthday and would be permitted to enter the tournament as a result. His stomach clenched at the thought of losing the Triwizard winnings that would surely kickstart his and Fred's dreams of obtaining a storefront for their fledgling business. They thought they'd had it made at the Quidditch World Cup, but the heavy sack of galleons from Bagman had vanished by morning.

He grimaced as he recalled the way they'd searched frantically through their bags at the Burrow, certain it had simply been misplaced. It hadn't been misplaced. Bagman had cheated them, and the look in Fred's eyes of pure anger and disbelief still haunted him. They'd been saving for years, and now all of it was gone.

To compete in the Triwizard Tournament would be a lucky break. He felt certain that if he or Fred were chosen, they would do brilliantly. They were top of their class in Charms, and they were pretty scrappy to boot. The measure of a handful of months locking them out of the opportunity was a bit much to take.

On the other side of the Gryffindor table, Hermione was watching Ron, who was watching the Beauxbatons girls. The git didn't realize that Hermione's eyes followed his every move. George sighed. They'd sort it eventually, he had no doubt, but it was still painful to watch Ron be so oblivious.

Dumbledore finished his speech with a warning about the dangers of entering the competition. He'd made eye contact with George more than once during the night, as though he knew what the twins planned to do. George crossed his arms. Professor Dumbledore had given them no choice. The bearded wizard dismissed them, and the students began to filter into the hall.

If he or Fred were given a chance, he knew...he just knew that with the help of the other, they'd come out alright. Maybe even win.

That's when he heard Hermione say it.

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione. "We just haven't learned enough."

His neck heated. So, this is what she thought?

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. The conversation poured past his ears, but he didn't hear anything said after that.

Sure, he and Fred hadn't pulled many O.W.L.s, but that had been intentional. He'd thought she knew that. But, instead, she didn't believe they could pull it off. The realization deflated him.

Did she think that they'd happened upon all of their inventions by accident? That their flying prowess was merely coincidence? They'd worked hard, and they'd keep working hard. He'd show her.

#

George aimed a perfectly shaped snowball at Harry, then ducked behind the wall of snow that he and Fred had charmed to bounce off the enemy's fire. The wind and snow were cold, but Mum's jumper was warm as always. Gazing out on his siblings, he saw them wearing each of theirs respectively, and Harry's had a dragon on it this year. Fitting. It'd been totally wicked when he'd flown circles around the Norwegian Ridgeback.

Hermione sat on the sidelines, cheering whenever either side landed a particularly good shot. When the occasional snowball rolled within her reach, she'd pick it up and chuck it to one side or the other, claiming she was alternating to keep the outcome of the battle fair.