Chapter 1 : Act 1, Scene 1
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“If improperly treated, the belladonna leaves will…”
I hardly even cared about Potions anymore. It wasn’t even a very important subject compared to Transfiguration, or Charms, or Defense Against The Dark Arts, anyway, and it wasn’t as if the old, fat coot (rather appropriately, if you ask me) named Slughorn made it any more interesting for the students that were bored out of their minds.
Slamming the cover down over the pages of required Potions textbook, I sighed loudly and looked around at the books on the thousands of shelves surrounding me.
For the first time in my life, I, Rose Weasley, was tired of the library.
So, what else was I to do? I picked up and left, of course, heading for the Room of Requirement.
On my way, I bumped into, tripped over, shoved aside, and stumbled over what must have been about twenty thousand people.
Oh, well. Life is jolly good anyway!
For some odd reason, I feel like skipping. Not a very sane idea.
Right before reaching the Room of Requirement, Lysander Scamander stopped me.
“Hi, Rose!” he beamed at me, his wavy, floppy blonde hair in his eyes as usual. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to –”
“Not now, Lysander,’ I scowled, attempting to push him away.
“But Rose, it’s just that I’ve noticed –”
"Lysander?" I interrupted sweetly, and he pushed his hair away from his face eagerly.
"GO AWAY!" I stormed past him, and I could feel his staring eyes on my back as I went.
I think I may have pre-menstrual syndrome.
Oh, well. Snippy Rose, welcome to the world. Have you met Scorpius Malfoy yet? You should!
He was probably part of the reason I was upset. Sometimes, he can be such an insufferable arse.
We had been talking in the halls - very civilly, might I add - when he suddenly started disagreeing with me on every point I made for absolutely no good reason.
"Rose, you're just a stuck-up, close-minded prefect. Get that stick out of your arse and do something useful for a change," his words echoed in my head.
I harrumphed and as I stomped in front of the wall where the Room of Requirement was hidden.
I was the furthest thing from a close-minded person. In fact, James Potter was my favourite cousin, which should tell you something - and not necessarily something good, because James just got into deep trouble with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry for accidentally drowning Aunt Ginny's Pygmy Puff, Arnold, which was dying anyway, in my opinion - so I'm not so sure what James being my favourite cousin says about me, actually.
Anyway, point being, I love playing pranks along with James, Fred, Lorcan, and sometimes Al even joined us. I know, I'm the only girl with a horde of boys, you must all be swooning.
Well, snap out of it. James is my annoying cousin, Albus is really nice enough behind the shy exterior, and the other one is just plain annoying (hint: his last name rhymes with 'salamander'. Or does it, really? I'm not so sure anymore. Merlin, I need to work on my rhyming skills.)
I was on my third round of pacing-slash-stomping-like-it-was-my-job outside the Room when the door finally appeared. I pulled the door open and walked inside.
I wasn't entirely sure what would turn up inside the Room, actually. All I had asked for was a place that I could escape to.
It was a comfortable sort of room, with pouffes and armchairs and a small table with a journal laying on top of it.
I sat in one of the pouffes and played with my wand, creating swirling images in the air that faded after awhile - trying to decide what to do with the rest of my afternoon.
The pictures were varied - the Black Lake on a sunny summer's day; the Owlery with flecks of snow falling lightly on the windowsill; clouds passing over the sky as Gryffindor Quidditch players threw the Quaffle amongst themselves; our dormitory window, flecked with raindrops. Finally, I stopped on a familiar image - myself, crazy auburn hair escaping its untidy bun, holding a wand out while Uncle Hary coached me patiently. My ears were red with embarrassment and frustration - a Weasley trademark - as I tried and tried to produce a form, but nothing came from my wand other than silvery smoke.
It seems I have inherited Mum's inability to produce a fully corporeal Patronus, and I so desperately wanted to find out what mine would be - what animal it would turn out to be.
I stood and picked up my mahogany wand again, unicorn hair poking out slightly at the end in all of its fingerprinted, unpolished glory.
I was going to do this.
Happy memory, happy memory...
Right! The time where James and Fred set a Dungbomb off in History of Magic - I supplied the Dungbomb out of the stash that Uncle George had given me - and then I had gleefully implicated my cousins in an 'unplanned' conversation between old McGoogles and I.
I closed my eyes and concentrated hard on that memory.
"Expecto Patronum," I murmured, waving my wand.
A flurry of silvery smoke issued from the end of my wand and faded away, to my intense frustration.
I shook my head, my hair flying out of my face, and I tried to think of another happy moment.
When Mum and Dad saw my first 'O'! Got it.
With a firm wave, I shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"
More silvery smoke flew out to my wand, surrounding me. I coughed loudly as some of the smoke went down the wrong pipe.
Oh, what a wonderfuly day I was having. First Scorpius, now this.
Scorpius' sneering face filled my mind again, probably saying something like, "I knew you couldn't do it, Weasel-face."
Well, how rude of him, really. I'll teach him not to call me Weasel-face. Especially not in my own mind!
I'm beginning to see Dad's insanity coming out in me. This is not good - I repeat, not good.
Despite that, I will still not be called Weasel-face. Especially since my face bears absolutely no similarities to that of a weasel's. My face is quite beautiful, thank you very much, imaginary Scorpius.
"Expecto Patronum!" I yelled, stabbing the air with my wand as if Scorpius was right in front of me and I was really stabbing him.
What? I am a very violent person. Ask Lily, she'll agree.
A slightly more shapely form came out of my wand. It looked like something four-legged.
Concentrate, Rose, concentrate. Make the four-legged thing become solid!
"What the hell..." I heard, and my concentration faltered, leaving me with a disappearing cloud of silver smoke. I whirled around, ready to murder whoever had interrupted my Patronus-making.
Scorpius Malfoy was standing in the doorway, looking slightly shell-shocked as he saw my murderous expression.
"MALFOY!" I yelled, and hurled myself at him.
We fell over ourselves near the door, and I began to punch every inch of him I could reach.
"You - made - my - Patronus - disappear - you - thick - moron!" I shouted in his face, each word punctuated with a punch.
"Calm down, Weasley!" he yelled back, pushing me off of him. His nose was bleeding.
Satisfaction flooded every inch of my body as he pulled a tissue from the tissue box that had just appeared, trying to stop the bleeding.
The good feeling disappeared as he began to speak, though.
"You're the idiot, Weasley," he spat at me. "One is allowed to mistakenly intrude on someone else's study session without that certain someone punching their lights out!"
"You admit it, then?" I asked, crossing my arms across my chest.
"Admit what?" he replied harshly, glaring daggers at me over his now-red tissue.
"Admit that halfblood Rose Weasley punched pureblood Scorpius Malfoy's lights out," I challenged, smirking.
"You're so thick, Weasley," he laughed at me, his cold blue eyes piercing me. "With your brains, you should have been sorted into Hufflepuff. There are times when you have to be reasonable, you know," he stormed, throwing the door open and leaving - very loudly, might I add.
"Yeah? Well, you need to learn to be reasonable sometimes!" I shouted lamely after him.
He was so irritating sometimes.
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