1: Trouble - Fred Weasley

4. should i stay or should i go

if you say that you are mine

i'll be here 'till the end of time

so you got to let me know

should I stay or should I go?

-

Breakfast had always been Mo's favourite meal of the day. Even when she only picked at her dinner, she'd make herself a huge bacon and egg sandwich in the mornings and have a bowl of cereal with it. It was almost an art form, watching her do it with such precision, her method mastered after six years at Hogwarts. The time she took over assembling had often left Mo late to her first lesson, which in general wasn't like her. Today, Imogen watched her assembling her masterpiece as she sleepily shovelled cornflakes in her mouth. Mo smiled, satisfied, as she plopped the top piece of bread on.

"Parfait." she declared as she brought it to her mouth.

Imogen was so tired it had been all she could do to watch Mo make her sandwich as her head drooped lower and lower, so when her fathers hulking owl Broadbillow landed next to her, she started and knocked a plate of beans on the floor.

"Oh merlin," Imogen said, noticing the letter in his beak. "hi Broadbillow."

Broadbillow cocked his head at her, looking stern. Longing to be back in bed, she took the letter from him, and he took flight back out of the great hall. The handwriting on the front was the familiar delicate print of her father, Phineas Falker. Carefully, she opened the letter and started to read.

Imogen,

I require your presence at home the weekend after next. I have spoken with your professors and it has all been arranged so there will be no arguing. Professor Snape will have a portkey in his office to bring you home, and I will have one here to send you back to hogwarts.

Regards,
your father

Imogen felt a dull resignation. Well that was that. She was visiting home. Imogen supposed it had been likely her father was going to find a way around her having stayed most of the summer with Mo, but she hadn't been expecting this. Imogen didn't even think this was something students did, visit home in the middle of term. Bitterly, she realised there were probably few rules Phineas Falker couldn't bend.

"Are you okay?" Mo asked, eyeing Imogen's face. She had egg running down her chin.

"Yeah," Imogen cleared her throat, "yeah, I just have to go home in a couple of weeks. To, uh, visit."

Mo wiped her chin with a napkin, but continued to eye Imogen nervously.

"The first task's tomorrow!" Imogen said briskly, forcing a smile.

"Sure is." said Mo, who seemed grateful for the subject change. "Are you excited to watch?"

"Oh, I don't think I'm going to watch. I need to do some more work on my St Mungos application."

Mo stared at her, disbelieving. She put the glass of apple juice she was holding down and joined her hands together.

"So you're telling me," she started, "that you're going to miss a once in a lifetime tournament where, might I add, we could see Harry Potter perish, for your stupid application?"

Imogen bristled. "It's not stupid, Mo."

Mo raised her eyebrows.