❝ mischief managed ❞
❝ with you it's the complete opposite ❞
Emerson Diors didn't always like the Weasley Twins. Their pranks were unbearable. Their attitude left much to be desired. But after their first and second year, they taught Emerson how to...
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"What a way to start the term," Angelina scowled as she read through the time tables McGonagall had passed around. "Double potions with the Slytherin's."
"Well, I've got news that will make you feel better," Alicia tried to lighten the mood by giving them a slight smile. "Oliver scheduled us the Quidditch pitch this weekend...but judging by your expressions you already knew that."
Emerson nodded and ran a hand through her hair, but she jumped when Fred tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "Wanna come to the kitchens with me and George tonight? We wanna see the house elves."
"Sure, why not," Emerson shot him a grin. "We probably won't have homework today, anyways."
Emerson was full of regret after she made that statement.
Professor Snape assigned them a foot long essay that was due by Wednesday and Binns expected them to read three chapters of their book for the next day's history lesson. To say Emerson was not impressed was an understatement. By seven o'clock, she was far too tired to walk to her own dormitory, and she was upset that she did not get to go to Hogwarts' kitchen.
"Do you think we'll win the house cup this year," George asked suddenly after sitting in silence for ten minutes. He was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Emerson had claimed his bed, and Fred was using his wand to make a paper airplane fly around the room, trying to chase her cat.
After a lot of long and hard thinking, Emerson decided to name her new pet Bandit. After the first and last night at the Burrow, her cat turned out to be as mischievous as the Weasley twins. Bandit had stolen three of Percy's socks, brought a spider into Ron's room, and decided to sleep in one of Mr Weasley's shoes, scaring him half to death when he went to put it on. It was needless to say, Fred and George adored her.
"I don't know," Emerson said, getting up to save Bandit from Fred's torment. "As long as I don't have to play seeker at the last match, I think we have a shot."
"Don't worry, nothing bad will happen to Harry this year," George waved it off. "With him and our star supporter and future, we'll be sure to win.
"Oh, Georgie," Emerson caked her voice with flattery. "You shouldn't have."
"Don't be so full of yourself. You know you just want it to be the weekend already because Oliver—Okay, Emery, put the shoe down."
After five days that felt like an eternity, it was Saturday morning and an hour before Quidditch practice. The Great Hall was completely abandoned, not only because it was six-thirty in the morning, but because it was also the weekend. Normal people sleep in.
Emerson sat between Fred and George, picking at her food with no appetite. Angelina and Alicia sat across from her, both half asleep.
"I wonder where Harry is," Angelina mumbled and looked down to where he usually sat. Her eyes were puffy from exhaustion, and she looked like she didn't look in the mirror before putting on her Quidditch robes.
