❝ MERLIN'S GHOST! ❞
❝ I MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRONG. ❞
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Albany Bronwen was no Chosen One by any means, but being haunted by the ghosts of the greatest sorcerer of all time and a former king had to count for something, right?
❃ in which a lone...
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ALBANY DIDN'T LET GO of George's hand as they entered the ballroom again, far too cheery and untroubled to care what anyone thought. She had her best friend back, and that was all that mattered to her. Her heart sang with glee in her chest, and his hand was warm where their fingers interlaced; she was on cloud nine.
The Weird Sisters were onstage and had struck up a banger of a tune, the massive crowd of students packed tight around them jumping and screaming. To the opposite end of the hall, Albany noted with amusement, was a queue of bald students getting their hair restored by Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall. Faith was not among them.
House elves were quietly replacing the goods on the desserts tables, ensuring nobody else lost all their hair that night. Albany grinned as she spotted Carly helping them out diligently, though the girl was not accompanied by any of their other friends.
"Lee's with Alicia and Angelina in the crowd," George pointed out brightly, nodding towards the edge of the jumping sea of students. He glanced around the rest of the hall curiously. "Where's Fred?"
"Can I get you a drink?" a rather loud voice was offering somewhere to their right.
Albany and George exchanged glances; that answered their question.
"No, Mr Weasley, I'll be alright, thank you," Ludo Bagman was replying politely, though seemed rather keen to get away from the determined redhead.
Fred waved away the rejection with confidence. "No worries, there's no need for drinks to have a conversation anyway," he said, donning his business smile. "So you might remember those fake wands we showed you back at the Quidditch World Cup...."
Albany raised a bemused eyebrow to George. "What's he doing?"
George was grinning sheepishly when he turned to her, ears a tad pink. He scratched at the back of his neck absentmindedly. "Well... you might remember those letters you caught us sending at the start of the year...."
Albany barely recalled it; September had been nearly four months ago, but it felt like years had passed since sixth year began. Vaguely, from the pits of her memory, she pulled the phrase illegal letters — and some form of recognition lit up her face. She raised her eyebrows at George, curious. That was one secret that still hadn't been divulged to her.
"I do remember," she replied with a knowing smile. "You were writing to... Bagman?"
"We bet him our life's savings on the results of the match at the Quidditch World Cup," George explained. He frowned. "When he paid us back, he gave us leprechauns' gold. Naturally, it disappeared, and we lost everything."
Albany's eyebrows furrowed. Bagman had always seemed such a jolly figure to her; not the kind to cheat teenagers out of their money. "Dick move," she said under her breath, scowling at the man in question.
