One and Only ; George Weasley

Chapter 56

“What’s this now?” I asked as I walked down the marble staircase a Tuesday morning in late September. Filch was hanging up another decree and I was curious as to how Umbridge had found a new way to make life suck at Hogwarts.

“Any student found in possession of a spell-check charmed quill will be severely punished.” Fred quoted, staring at the wall where the decree was being put up. “What should I do now?”

“Study.” I suggested with a small laugh and Fred glared at me. I playfully nudged him with my shower before my attention turned back to Filch. “I can always help you out, Freddie. Especially if you find it hard to concentrate on studying. Just say so and we’ll have some tutoring sessions in the library.”

“Seriously? You’d be up for that?”

“Course.” I smiled. “You’re my friend and I’d love to help you if that means I get to see you graduate.”

“I think that’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Oi!” I exclaimed, slapping his chest. “Don’t talk like that! You’re smart, Fred. If you just put your mind to it, you’ll get some good grades and graduate in June.”

“You know, Liz.” He smiled. “You’re a great person.”

“I know.” I smiled cheekily. He laughed, rolling his eyes at me before looking past me. “Did you see the new decree?”

I turned around and my smile grew when I saw George. He made his way down the stairs and joined us, his eyes focused on the wall where the three decrees were hanging together.

“No, what is it this time?”

“Spell-check charmed quills are now banned.” I said. “I mean, with good reason but she’s ready to punish anyone in possession of one.”

George looked at me and then at his brother. “We gotta get rid of ours then.” “The black lake should do it.” Fred suggested and George nodded in agreement.

The very next day, a new decree was put on the wall, making everyone dread the future of our school.

Any student found in possession of sweets from unauthorized suppliers will be expelled

I feel like the decrees keep getting worse. No unauthorized sweets? Why would that even be a problem?

“Last time, we talked about the origin of wandlore.” Professor Binns said, his see-through self standing in front of the chalkboard. “Now, can anyone give me an example of people that are known to have studied wandlore?”

A few hands were raised and both Garrick Ollivander and Mykew Gregorovitch were mentioned.

“The wood that a wand is made of can say a lot about the wizard or witch it belongs to.” Binns continued. “Miss Blossom.”

I looked up quickly at the mention of my name and saw people looking at me. “What wood is your wand made of?” Binns asked.
“Dogwood.” I told him and he gave a small nod before looking over the whole class.

“Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous.” He spoke. “They normally choose owners that are fun and excited about life. Some believe that wands made out of dogwood aren’t capable of producing serious magic but that’s not the case. They can be pretty great when it comes to most type of Magic. A negative thing about them though, is that most of them refuse to do non-verbal magic and often they are pretty noisy.”

Not in my case. My wand is great at non-verbal magic and I don’t believe it’s that noisy.

“Ollivander once stated that dogwood is his favorite as it’s so much fun to see the wand match with its owner.” Binns told the class as he floated back to his desk.

I looked at George, raising my eyebrows to question him when I saw he was playing with my hair and making himself a mustache.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, making him noticed I had noticed him. He quickly let go of my hair and looked at Binns as if I hadn’t just caught him playing with my hair. “You’re a dork.”

“Am not.” He whispered, smiling as he stared straight ahead. He then slowly turned his head to look at me and I felt his hand by the hem of my skirt, playing with it which gave me goosebumps. George noticed ’cause then he let out a small chuckle and glanced at me before running his fingers over my skin.

“Stop doing that.” I whispered, swatting away his hand.

“Stop doing what?” He asked, acting clueless with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not doing anything, love.”

“You’re a jerk sometimes.” I told him. “A big jerk.”

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