1: Trouble - Fred Weasley

1. trouble

got so much to lose, got so much to prove

god don't let me lose my mind

-

Imogen Falker's boots clapped against the flagstones of the Hogwarts corridor for the umpteenth time, her robes billowing behind her as she ran as fast as she could to her first lesson of the day. She hated being late with a passion; hated the way her face burned as she took her seat out of breath, making apologies as she went, but somehow she just couldn't seem to be on time. Naturally, it would be McGonagall, perhaps her sternest teacher, who she was late for today.

She skidded to a halt outside the transfiguration classroom and pushed her long hair out of her face. Imogen could have stood outside a moment to catch her breath, but it would have only made her more late, so she braced herself and pushed open the door. Some of the students turned to look at her, and McGonagall's unimpressed face followed her to her seat, having stopped mid sentence.

"Sorry I'm late, professor," Imogen said, as she got out her quill and parchment. McGonagall joined her hands together.

"Ten points from Slytherin. Let's try and be more punctual this term, Miss Falker."

Imogen nodded, her face burning, and, sat next to her, her best friend Mo muttered "I told you you shouldn't have had that lie in."

"Very helpful, Mo, thanks," Imogen whispered. Mo gave a stifled laugh, enjoying her misery.

"As I was saying," McGonagall went on, "if you would please hand in the essays I set you last lesson on complex vanishing we can start the lesson."

Imogen could have smacked her head on the table, or in fact vanished herself. Of course she'd forgotten to do the essay. Today was going to be a long day. Mo reached in her bag for her own essay and upon placing it on the desk in front of her, she saw that Imogen had nothing.

"Oh you are joking," she said, her face dire. "It's only the second week back!"

"I know, I know!" Imogen hissed.

McGonagall swept around the room collecting essays, and stopped at the table in front of Imogen and Mo.

"Mr Weasley, nothing to show? Nor you, Mr Weasley?" McGonagall seemed thoroughly displeased, though not at all surprised.

"Well, George and I thought we'd take it a step further and vanish the actual essays as well," one of the Weasley twins said, earning a smattering of laughter from those in the room wearing red ties.

"As a show of our capability," the other added. Imogen rolled her eyes. The gall of them to speak to a teacher like that. It spoke volumes about the culture of Gryffindor house.

"I hardly think it funny," McGonagall glared significantly in the direction of the laughter, which stopped immediately, "that you have flouted your homework again. We are at NEWT level now and you will not succeed at your exams armed with only the laughter of your classmates. This is a school."

The Weasley twins apologised simultaneously and McGonagall seemed satisfied. "Detention for you both tonight."

But McGonagall's face fell once again as she reached Imogen and Mo's table. "Not you too, Miss Falker?"

Imogen's face burned, and she willed her seat to swallow her up. She couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be lumped in the same group as the Weasley twins.

"Sorry professor, it slipped my mind," Imogen said, not meeting her eye.

McGonagall folded her arms, looking much more cross than she had with the Weasley twins. "You are aware, Miss Falker, that when you bother to hand essays in, they tend to be rather good?"