Plot Twist [GEORGE WEASLEY]

9.

Winter was slowly fading away. Rain still fell, persistent. Amara stopped feeling like an ice sculpture after a shower. In mid-February, Amara started to revise for the OWLs. The stress radiating from Amara was due to badly marked practice papers. Fortunately, the stress was melting away as she was also focusing on her pranks.

As they approached the Great Hall, Peter and James passed by. Both giving a thumbs up and a smirk. Amara nodded. Let the prank began.

The students who had woken up were arriving now. When that specific group entered the hall, it was a signal that everyone was present. Everyone dispersed an hour later for classes. Amara's mad concept ran through her head. Was this a good idea? Was she going to embarrass herself? What if she got expelled?

Whispering a secret word, she held her breath.

The ceiling burst open. Droplets fell freely, testing the destruction of the boundary. Many students screamed and held their wands up. Ron Weasley shielded his food with his own body. Quite hilarious.

Amara watched, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Knee deep in the panic, no one noticed a significant detail. They were not becoming wet. The drops of rain simply passed through. They disappeared as soon as they hit the ground.

A blur of red hair appeared in her peripheral vision. Both didn't look angry or jealous like she had anticipated. Except, they held the looks of wonderment. Both had shocked expressions. "Bloody hell, Amara!" exclaimed Fred.

George just grinned.

Everyone held out their hands for the raindrops to land on them. Drops just formed for a second and faded away. Her own handiwork made her glow with pride. Her smile broadened. "Thank you," said Amara.

"This is pure brilliance, Amara. We're actually considered quitting..." George began to say. "Stop smiling, you loon. I was just joking."

"Well. Go and do your planning stuff then. You may have to start over."

___

Amara's little charm stayed for almost till the evening.

The hallways had harmless rain falling infinitely. 

A tiny grin was etched on her face as she walked through the hallway. Her hands swung with every step. She had made a count of numerous reactions to her trick. One couple of seventh years were dancing romantically. A quadrant of friends sang their rendition of Celestia Warbeck's, I Cry With The Rain. Even the Weasley twins did an Irish jiggle. The last one made her double over with laughter.

Then, a silhouette approached her. Professor McGonagall wore the expression of a disgruntled cat. She gestured Amara to follow her. Worry rose up in her chest. 'Oh no, oh no, oh no...' chanted her heart.

They stopped in front of a pair of gargoyles. Dumbledore's office. Professor McGonagall muttered something nonsensical. The gargoyles moved to reveal a lovely grand staircase made of marble. Such ancient architecture made Amara want to take everything. But, it was not the time for that.

 Professor McGonagall climbed the steps. The stairway was dark in the entrance but light poured in at the end. Dumbledore and Flitwick were seated, sipping tea from delicate-looking china. The headmaster peered from his half-moon spectacles.

"Ms. Shacklebolt, please take a seat."

Wary of the presence of three teachers in the headmaster's office, Amara kept her thoughts on the interiors. The portraits on the wall were snoring. A silver birdcage held a contained a phoenix. The phoenix simpy flapped its red wings. Quite majestic, thought Amara.

"You must know why you're in here," Dumbledore slid her a teacup. "The incident in the morning?"

Amara gulped down steaming tea, her throat burning. Her lips didn't reveal much. She merely nodded.