Chapter 33

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•This story takes scenes from the Harry Potter series. I want to make it clear that I don't own those scenes. That's owned by
J.K. Rowling. Thank you•

~Scarlett~

Watching Harry complete the first task was terrifying. It was filled with screams, cheers, and even tears here and there. But he had finished with the fastest time, and was only left with a few scratches and bruises.

To me, this meant I need to sit him down and make sure he's actually alright. To everyone else, this meant we need to celebrate. So the Gryffindors all decided to throw Harry a party, and that's where we currently were.

Harry himself was hanging out with Hermione and Ron (something I'd have to ask him about later), Angelina was hanging off of Fred, George was standing a few feet away from the two holding what looked to be custard creams, Alicia and Lee were dancing together, and Katie was talking to a seventh year I forget the name of.

Point being, I'm by myself...

Again.

I could hang out with Jeremy, but he was drunk and that wasn't really my first choice. I could join in with Harry but I didn't want to seem like a clingy sister, and no one else really knew we had any sort of relationship. And that left me with pretty much no options.

I was just about to go up to the dormitories when poor fourth year, Neville Longbottom, quite literally turned into a canary.

"Oh — sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot — it was the custard creams we hexed —"

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them — seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

My jaw dropped, watching as a few people came up to purchase Fred and George's creation.

But that was just it.

I created those.

It was one of the ideas I had shared with them at the start of the year and they had brushed it off as 'not eye catching enough.'

And now they're here, George helping, taking my credit!

Suddenly feeling very claustrophobic, I left the Common Room, exiting through the portrait hole and walking through the cold corridor.

I had only made it a few steps when I heard a voice calling after me.

"Scarlett! Wait up!"

"What the hell are you doing, George?! Working with Fred and stealing my credit!"

George stood silent, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"Say something god dammit!" I cried.

"Look Fred's my twin..I can't just not talk to him," George mumbled.

"What?" I laughed, praying that he was joking. "That's really funny! Your brother steals the love of your life, but y'know, you share DNA so whatever!"

"Look I just don't think this making them jealous thing is a good idea.."

"IT WAS YOUR IDEA!"

George stared wide eyed at my outburst.

"It was your idea!" I repeated, jabbing a finger in his face. "Your genius idea to have me go out with a complete douchebag and wait ever so patiently for a guy to like me, when he's never going to! And now you're going to leave me to deal with my douchebag of a boyfriend, and you're going to leave me to watch you go back to Fred ever so happily!"

"I'm not leaving you, Scarlett!" George groaned. "You've been really dramatic about this whole thing!"

That one felt like a punch to the stomach. I felt a lump growing in my throat, but there was no way I was going to cry and accept defeat.

"Dramatic?" I repeated, holding back tears. "You think I'm being dramatic?"

"Yeah, Scarlett! Cause you have been!"

"Please! Tell me! How have I been dramatic?!" I screamed, pulling at my hair in frustration.

What gave him the right to call me dramatic when I've done nothing but follow along with what he told me?!

"You cry all of the time! And you're always saying that you're just completely in love with Fred!" George argued. "Just let him be!"

"Screw you, George."

I stormed off in a random direction, my eyes blurring with tears to the point where I didn't really know where exactly I was going. George made no attempt to come after me, shattering any small amount of hope I had in him.

I felt like everyone I once knew wasn't the same anymore. Fred, Angelina, and now George had all betrayed my trust. Lee and Alicia were to caught up in each other to give me the light of day. Katie was always chatting up a guy nowadays. And now that Harry has both Ron and Hermione, I doubt he'd really want to talk to me as much.

I felt alone.

No, I was alone.

I had no one.

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December came rolling through, which brought upon us wind, sleet, and the Yule Ball.

Normally a ball would've been great news to me. I would've flipped out with the girls, we would've planned to go to Hogsmeade to pick out dresses, we would've waited extremely impatiently to be asked, and then we would've had the time of our lives dancing, screaming, and pranking Slytherins.

Now I just..don't want to. I don't even want to think about going. What's the point in going anyway? I could go with Jeremy and have an awful time. I could sit and drink spiked punch while Jeremy grinds on other girls in front of me. I could watch Fred and Angelina slow dance, looking into each other's eyes with love.

So when Christmas rolled around I woke up and opened my presents. I got a few things from my parents that had been given to me from Dumbledore, and I got a few minutes of actual conversation with Alicia and Katie as we exchanged gifts.

But then they left for the ball and I was left on my own.

I sucked up my tears, tired of crying, and caught up on all of my missing work. I studied for the exams that were months away, and I refused to give a second thought to the two Weasleys' that ruined the first half of my sixth year for me.

I could be strong. I was in Gryffindor for a reason, right?
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I walked into school for the first time in two weeks today, and the first person I talked to I was stuttering and stumbling over my words the whole time. I cut myself off and was like, "I'm so sorry. This is my first social interaction in two weeks and I can't speak English anymore."

Other than that, my day's been okay I guess. How about y'all?
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