CHRYSALIS - FRED WEASLEY

CHAPTER 1

***BOOK ONE***

Lillie tries to muffle the sound of her tennis shoes making soft taps that echo down the long, cavernous hallway. She walks, toe-to-heel, her wand stretched out in front of her and a small bag tucked in the crook of her elbow. It's 1 AM, and a 7th year has no reason to be out of bed at this hour; that is, no virtuous reason. She can feel the disapproving stares of men and women in portraits, and silently thanks them for their discretion. She does not need a loudmouth renaissance painting to go waking up the whole castle while she has some me-time.

She follows the winding passageways that she knows, after years of sneaking out from the Hufflepuff common rooms to the grounds beyond, as well as she knows her favorite songs. She only started smoking weed this year, but by now she knows the do's and don'ts of sneaking out. For example: avoid walking by the kitchens at all costs, as all house elves are duty-bound to report students out of bed. The portrait of the baby on the second floor is a light sleeper, and it will cry when it sees the lit tip of a wand. Of course, Lillie knows by now to avoid the third floor corridor, even if Fluffy has long since disappeared.

Not once has Lillienne Wenlock encountered another witch nor wizard on her near-nightly strolls to the grounds. Whether it is spectacular intuition or simply good luck, Lillie doesn't know.

She strolls down the first floor corridor, cautious yet comfortable. She's so comfortable, in fact, that she begins to pull a pre-roll out of the small pouch she carries. She's fiddling with it when she bumps, head-on, into two very tall figures.

"Hello," they both say in unison.

Lillie screams, dropping both her wand and her bag, breaking the lumos spell and enveloping the three in complete darkness.

"Fucking shit," she exclaimes, frantically feeling for her wand along the stone floor. She finds it, and hurriedly casts lumos once again. Two redheads come into view, towering over her with identical smiles gracing their identical faces.

"Gone for a midnight stroll, then?" says the one on the left.

"Y'know, Georgie," the one on the right says while staring down at the joint, grinder, and papers now strewn across the flagstone, "I reckon she was out to smoke some ganja. Some Mary J. Some hash. Some..." he trails off, having run out of pseudonyms.

"What, and you didn't think to invite us?" "Georgie" replied, "How rude. We are your best friends, and you can't be bothered to let us know. Honestly, I'm hurt."

"Erm..." Lillie starts, "Do we know each other?"

"No, not a bit. However," Georgie glances pointedly at the joint on the floor between them, "you look like a good friend to have. Mind if we join you?"

Lillie is surprised, to say the least. She was convinced they were prefects, roaming the halls for disobedient students. Needless to say, her heart rate slows when she realises that they are, like her, up to no good.

"Sure. But, I only have one joint rolled right now, so..."

"Aha. Not to worry," he says as he pulls out a small red pouch of his own, "We've got our own supply."

With that, the trio sets out for the grounds, the light from their wands elongating their shadows, Lillie's being significantly shorter than the twins' flanking her.

"I'm, uh, I'm Fred," the twin on her right says.

"And I'm George," says the other, a little more brightly than the other.

"I know." Lillie replies. Realizing how creepy her reply sounds, seeing as she had never actually met the twins, she attempts to backtrack. "I mean, I just meant that you two don't exactly keep a low profile."

The Weasley twins are popular at Hogwarts. So popular, in fact, that even the teachers don't mind their occasional and ingenious pranks. They are handsome and witty, goofy and likeable, and their shenanigans are the stuff of legends.

"I'm Lillie, by the way."

"I know," Fred says simply.

"What?" she says, "How?"

"Well, uh, I-."

"It's a secret," says George, an amused sort of grin on his face.

Lillie simply stares at Fred as he walks, trying to work out how exactly he knows who she is. He flashes her a wide smile, a look of feigned innocence gracing his features. Lillie isn't unpopular by any means; her outgoing, people-pleasing personality only magnifies her reputation. She is the type of girl who is secretly admired; her brains and confidence make her intimidating, but everyone in her year know that she is one of the kindest people they'd meet.

The rest of the way, the twins bicker over who scored worse on their OWLs, asking Lillie for her input on who she thinks is dumber. When she replies that she thinks Fred is the slower brother, he whoops in celebration, which Lillie does not expect. They arrive at the bank of the Black Lake without further commotion.

Finding her usual rock, a large boulder with an indent that resembles a small loveseat, she sits and takes out her slightly bent joint. George sits on her right, and Fred climbs to the top of the rock, sitting with his feet dangling between them.

"This is a nice spot, Lillie," says Fred.

"Thanks. I reckon many a stoner has graced this hallowed stone."

They laugh at this, nodding their heads in agreement. Lillie puts her joint to her lips, lights it with a controlled incendio, and breathes in. She lets the acrid, bitter smoke fill her lungs. She holds her breath as she passes the joint to Fred, who's hand hovers expectantly near her shoulder. She releases the smoke into the clear, cloudless night. It disappears almost immediately, having been swept away by the strong breeze that ripples the black lake and stirs her hair. Fred does the same, turning his head as to not blow the smoke into Lillie's face.

"So, Lillie," George takes a puff between his sentence, "You've gotta tell us where that American accent came from."

"Yeah, it's not every day we see a yank at Hogwarts," Fred says.

"Well, it's a rather boring story. My parents are aurors, but they do freelance work instead of working for just one ministry. I grew up in Washington, moved to France when I was ten, and went to Beauxbatons until this year. My parents are under contract with the ministry, helping them sort out their rogue death-eater issue. So, until further notice, I'm here."

"Interesting," says George, "I didn't know the Ministry hires freelance aurors."

And so they sit like this, passing a joint around and breathing in the crisp, cold air that numbs their fingers and reddens their noses.

"All I'm saying," says Fred, "is if I were an animal, I'd obviously be a lion."

"You would not," says George.

"I think you'd be a dolphin. Or maybe an Ostrich," Lillie chimes in.

Fred loudly protests, and George laughs so hard he chokes on the smoke billowing out of his lungs. The laughter ebbs into a comfortable silence, where the three simply look out onto the black lake, the small island within it silhouetted in the bright moonlight.

"I think," Fred started, breaking the silence, "if you were an animal, you'd be a butterfly. A purple one, with white spots."

Lillie's mouth goes dry, though she doesn't know if it is the effects of the weed or the strange compliment Fred has just paid her. He hops off the rock, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting slowly up the hill towards Hogwarts. George follows suit, though he waits for Lillie to put her things back in her stash bag before following Fred. And Lillie, listening to the leaves crunch under her feet and the labored breathing of the two boys near her, smiles to herself. She somehow knows, has a feeling, that this is the start of something good.