(Eng) Weasleys, Pranks and other Curses

11

"Remember to close the windows before you leave," the Professor Trelawney remarked as she caught me looking dreamily at the glass balls.

"Windows?", I snapped myself out of my daydream, but by then the teacher was halfway out the door. With one hand outstretched toward her, I tried to stop her, but if she wanted to, Professor Trelawney was faster than a snitch. Not that I knew how fast such a snitch actually was.

My eyes wandered to the flowing curtain that blocked my view outside. The Quidditch game. Even though the potion was starting to wear off, I couldn't deny that I would love to see George play. Katie had spoken highly of the twins, and I trusted her judgment. But just the thought of climbing up on those rickety old bleachers made my stomach turn.

I had just finished arranging the teas and sorting out all the expired teas when the wind carried a wave of cheers in to me. The game had begun. My teeth dug into my lower lip. Damn the anxiety! Surely it couldn't be that hard to look off into the distance! I didn't even have to look down, just straight ahead!

No resolve in this world could match my fear. My whole body shook so violently in the battle of fear against will that the tea bags fell out of the box. I gave up. It was stupid anyway. As long as the love potion was still raging in my body, nothing I did would be honest. In a few days, the month the Weasleys so passionately touted would be over.

"One month to win the heart of your beloved."

Since that... since that day, sales had shot through the roof, Ginny had told me. Fred had congratulated his brother more than once for the brilliant move. For his great sacrifice.

I snorted and collected the expired tea again. Involuntarily, I remembered again the prediction I had made for George with his tea set. I had never gotten the chance to explain it to him.

He will jump from the brink of death.

My heart contracted at this reminder. Often enough, I had reassured myself that George was still a Weasley twin. They were known for their pranks and the nonsense they were always up to, everywhere they went. There were enough moments for that prediction to be true. Hell. Hadn't they just escaped Snape by a hair's breadth a few days ago, after nearly blowing up his Potions class? If that wasn't an accurate moment for prediction!

Again, voices drifted in to me from the pitch. I heard a loud screeching and bawling through the open window. Had there been a foul? Panicked, I straightened up - just in time to see the huge bird put on its wings to fit through the window.

The fog vulture!

I jerked my arm up to ward off the critter, but its razor claws drove through my skin, furrowing my flesh as if it was warm wax. Now it was I who shrieked. Pain ran through my entire body, traveling along my bones like an electric shock. My eyes went black.

But the bird was far from finished with me. In the spacious room, it had all the room it needed to flip. I scrambled to my feet, tried to hide, but it was no use. With his second attack, the vulture tore my cloak, dug his claws deep into my shoulder, and I gagged as I felt them wrap around my collarbone.

Still I tried to get rid of the vulture. No matter how futile it was. I screamed and thrashed at the monster as the alternative became clearer.

It pulled me out to the open window.

Panicked, I reached for my wand. Right wasn't my actual magic hand, but it would have to do! A shock spell! Paralysis! Anything! But the words wouldn't leave my lips in time, my untrained hand wouldn't execute the movement correctly. With a violent flap of his wing, he knocked the wand out of my hand and lifted us off the ground at the same time. That was the end of me!

With my free hand, I grabbed the bird's rough legs and clung as tightly as I could.

The screeching of the crowd grew louder and I understood. They had seen the fog vulture and stopped the game. That's how it had to be. I couldn't be sure, as I fought with all my strength against the faintness that was coming on. The only thing that kept me conscious was the fact that my arm was slowly going numb. As horrible as it sounded, it was better than this pain that had spread through every fiber of my body.

Only the warm pool spreading from my shoulder alerted me more by the second. The claws had struck near my neck. What if they had hit my artery? But no! Surely I would have bled to death by now, right?

It was ridiculous. These thoughts! But what could I do? I couldn't free myself, and really I had been living on borrowed time for two years.

A sob. As miserable and snivelling as I had ever been in my life. The time had come. I was going to die.

Just as hope was leaving me, I heard a juicy smack next to me. Like an overripe tomato on the greenhouse roof.

Before I could even comprehend what had just happened, the claws dislodged from my shoulder and the world around me began to spin at a dizzying pace.

The vulture had let go of me! But what was joy for a split second immediately turned to bitter bile. The bird had let go of me hundreds of feet above the ground.

I closed my eyes one last time. Saw before me how my skull would hit the hard grass. Burst open like a watermelon.

I was just trying to summon the faintness that had haunted me all this time, so I wouldn't have to witness my own end, when I heard a voice at the edge of my consciousness. How terrible for all those who had to see me, I thought sympathetically, when my fall was abruptly braked.

"Camille!" Strong arms wrapped around me, slowing the tumbling, frantic world around me until I was back in my body.

"George!", I groaned out as desperately as he had sounded.

"It's going to be okay," he implored me as he whipped his broom around. I almost lost my balance, but somewhere inside me the last of my spirits had awakened. I wrapped my healthy arm around his neck so tightly that George gasped. But we didn't slow down. Again my eyes went black and I pressed my face into the rough cloak, against the warm chest.

It's going to be okay, his voice echoed in my head over and over. I had a chance. There was actually a chance.

"I don't want to die," I burst out sobbing, something I had been afraid to think all this time.

"You're not going to die. Not today, not here." He sounded so sure I wanted to believe him. It wasn't until he pressed my head deeper into his cloak and growled, "Close your eyes," that it occurred to me that George must be suicidal! Was the vulture after us?!

A crash and the deafening clink of glass immediately disproved that thought. Before I could understand what had happened and where we were, a woman came running up yelling.

"What in three devils' names!"

"Quick! You have to help her!"

"Crazy boy, this way!"

Madame Pomfrey. Of course. But were we just...? The pain returned so suddenly to my arm that I howled like a werewolf.

"It's all right," Madame Pomfrey soothed me, except that I could no longer understand her next words. Still my arm was around George's neck like a vice, and even if I had wanted to, I couldn't have let go.

We had escaped the fog vulture.

George Weasley had cheated death. But not for his life. But for mine.