Dreams Are Falling Short

“Please just tell me,” I begged, sitting on the cold floor of a rarely-used corridor.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he chuckled.

His laughter was all too familiar to me now, and it surprised me how at ease I felt around him. If you’d told me before this year that I would be getting along with Draco Malfoy, of all people, I probably would’ve laughed and asked what the twins had given you to prank me. Now, sitting beside him with our arms touching in a friendly, relaxed manner felt – I don’t know – natural, I suppose.

“Why not?” I said, frowning at him.

“Because I promised my father I wouldn’t,” he said seriously, before continuing on a lighter note. “Plus, I think you’d kind of be freaked out about how closely related you are to me.”

“Don’t be stupid, Malfoy,” I said, elbowing him playfully. “You’re actually nice to be around when you’re not being an arrogant prick.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Corey,” Malfoy smirked.

“Damn,” I said sarcastically, “and I really thought I had you there.”

“Better luck next time.”

-

I felt as though I was carrying some kind of talisman inside my chest over the following two weeks, a glowing secret that supported me through Umbridge’s classes and even made it possible for me to smile blandly as I looked into her horrible bulging eyes. The DA was resisting her under her very nose, doing the very thing she and the Ministry most feared.

Hermione quickly devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case we needed to change it at a short notice, because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each member of the DA a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold).

“You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?” Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of our fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. “On real Galleons that’s just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes so if you’re carrying them in a pocket you’ll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he’ll change the numbers on his coin, and because I’ve put a Protean Charm on them, they’ll all change to mimic his.”

A blank silence greeted Hermione’s words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.

“Well – I thought it was a good idea,” she said uncertainly, “I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there’s nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But... well, if you don’t want to use them –“

“You can do a Protean Charm?” said Terry Boot.

“Yes,” said Hermione.

“But that’s ... that’s NEWT standard, that is,” he said weakly.

“Oh,” said Hermione, trying to look modest. “Oh... well... yes, I suppose it is.”

“How come you’re not in Ravenclaw?” he demanded, staring at Hermione with something close to wonder. “With brains like yours?”

“Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting,” said Hermione brightly, “but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So, does that mean we’re using the Galleons?”

There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forwards to collect one from the basket. I looked sideways at Hermione.

“You know what these remind me of?”

“No, what’s that?”

“The Death Eaters’ scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they’ve got to join him.”

“Well... yes,” said Hermione quietly, “that is where I got the idea ... but you’ll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin.”

-

As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, dew nearer, our DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretence of sportsmanship, were determined to see their own side victorious. I realised how much McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving us homework in the week leading up to the match.

“I think you’ve got enough to be getting on with at the moment,” she said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry, Ron and I and said grimly, “ I’ve become quite accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, you three, and I really don’t want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practise, won’t you?”

October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey, the mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in corridors between lessons.

I woke up wrapped tightly in a blanket lying curled up on an armchair by the fire one cold morning. I stretched my stiff limbs out and gave a yawn.

“Good morning, Coriander,” I heard George say, far too happily.

“Morning,” I mumbled sleepily.

“Sleep well?” Fred asked.

I nodded, shaking some of my hair onto my face while doing so. My eyes went wide as I took in the flaming red, Weasley locks that had replaced my once long blonde hair. My mouth fell open in silent anger, and I glared at the twins.

“You didn’t...”

“Oh but we did,” George said cheekily.

“This way you’re really part of the family,” Fred added.

I stood up and rushed to the nearest window – looking at my reflection on the glass. I looked as though I was actually part of the Weasley family – minus the freckles and with grey-blue eyes. I took a deep breath, tightening my grip on the blanket which was still clinging to my shoulders.

“Does it wash out?” I hissed out.

“What?”

“Does the colour wash out?” I said louder, turning around to face the twins.

“Nope.”

I closed my eyes and stood still for a moment. My hands fisted tightly on the blanket and I felt my nails dig into my skin through the material.

“FREDERICK AND GEORGE WEASLEY I WILL LITERALLY MURDER YOU FOR DOING THIS,” I yelled at them, before perching down onto the armchair again, and I rested my chin on my knees.

“So, I take it you’re not mad, then?” George said timidly.

“Oh, not at all,” I said, not even bothering to look at them.

I could already feel my anger fading, in fact I was already starting to find it quite funny. The common room was quiet because everyone was either already at breakfast or still sleep. I slowly started to chuckle, and soon I was laughing loudly.

“You guys are ridiculous, I swear,” I said, while laughing.

The twins joined in my laughter, and I dragged myself over to the couch on which they were sitting.

“If you wanted me to be in your family, you could’ve just asked me,” I said. “I would’ve married either of you, and it would’ve saved my hair.”

They exchanged a glance before both looking at me.

“I’m joking, jeez guys,” I said.

“Good – because you’re like our sister,” George said, tussling my hair.

“I know,” I said, though there was a pang of pain as I thought of Fred thinking of me as sister. “And plus, if I was marrying anyone in the family, I would marry Percy, because obviously he’s the good looking one.”

“Oh, now you’re offended us,” Fred said.

I quickly jumped off the couch, and ran across the common room as the twins tried to grab me but got stuck in the blanket I had thrown carelessly over their legs. I laughed as they chased me around the common room, and I walked over the furniture to try and escape them. Eventually they managed to catch me, and they pinned me to the floor, tickling me senseless.

I suppose being an honorary Weasley wasn’t that bad, not when you had the twins as older brothers, anyway.