"Eight Galleons!? Have you gone mad!?" Seamus Finnigan's voice exploded across the library like a firecracker, loud and full of indignation. Madam Pince's head snapped up from her desk, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. She fixed Seamus with a glare that could have melted cauldrons. The Gryffindor flushed, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper that still managed to carry. "That's daylight robbery, that is."

The silence that followed was as tense as a drawn bowstring.

Fiona's fingers rested lightly on the embossed cover of her braille textbook, her attention shifting to the two Gryffindors seated across from her. Though she couldn't see their expressions, she didn't need to. The tension crackling between Seamus and Dean Thomas was almost palpable, like a charged spell waiting to be unleashed.

"Harold Dingle in Ravenclaw is selling twice as much for half the price," Dean murmured, his voice a calm counterpoint to Seamus's agitation.

Fiona let out a derisive snort. "Harold Dingle?" she said, the disbelief in her tone unmistakable. "Dingle wouldn't know the difference between a Forgetfulness Potion and a glass of pumpkin juice."

Seamus and Dean exchanged uneasy glances, as if they were balancing on the edge of a very unstable charm, unsure whether it would hold or explode in their faces. Fiona's fingers traced absent-minded circles on the edge of her textbook.

"And where do you suppose Dingle's getting his supply of—" she paused, the soft shuffle of footsteps catching her ear. She waited, perfectly still, until they faded into the distance. "—Polyjuice?" she whispered, her voice as sharp as the snap of a whip.

Seamus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Hard to say. Brews it the same way as yourself, I reckon," he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

Fiona's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Dingle couldn't brew a proper Sleeping Draught if his life depended on it," she retorted. "He didn't even scrape an 'E' in his Potions O.W.L.s. But if you're eager to trust a tosser like that with something as complex as Polyjuice, be my guest."

Her words sliced through the air like a well-aimed hex, leaving Seamus and Dean glancing warily at one another. Unease hung between them, crackling like electricity.

Seamus cleared his throat, faltering slightly before he spoke again, his voice quieter now. "So, what... is it possible Dingle's in Advanced Potions? And... maybe you just didn't realise, what with—"

"Ten galleons," Fiona interrupted, her voice cold and unyielding.

Dean shot Seamus a warning look before nodding reluctantly. "Alright, alright," he muttered, leaning in closer as if afraid of being overheard. "We need it before the first Hogsmeade trip."

"Not a problem," Fiona replied softly, her voice barely more than a murmur. She tilted her head, listening intently as they shuffled away from the table, leaving her alone once more with the comforting quiet of her solitary study. "Come find me in November."

As the boys' footsteps receded, Seamus's muttering reached her ears, "Hufflepuff generosity, my arse."

Fiona reached into her bag and withdrew a small black notebook. She flipped it open, her fingers dancing over the pages before she plucked a quill from her pocket. The feather trembled slightly as she scribbled in quick, overlapping letters: Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas—Polyjuice Potion. 10 Galleons.

She flicked her wand over the scrawled words, murmuring an incantation under her breath. The ink shimmered and swirled, the letters reforming themselves into neat rows of raised dots—Braille.

⠎⠑⠁⠍⠥⠎⠀⠋⠊⠝⠝⠊⠛⠁⠝⠀⠤⠀⠙⠑⠁⠝⠀⠞⠓⠕⠍⠁⠎⠀⠤⠀⠏⠕⠇⠽⠚⠥⠊⠉⠑⠀⠼⠁⠼⠚⠀⠛⠁⠇⠇⠑⠕⠝⠎

"Harold Dingle," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief. The name hung in the air like an unpleasant odor, tinged with derision. The sheer audacity of that boy—thinking he could pass himself off as a potioneer. It was almost laughable.

But Fiona had barely a moment to return to her studies before the familiar scrape of chairs sounded across the stone floor, sharp and intrusive in the library's otherwise serene silence. She tensed instinctively as the footsteps halted just in front of her. The unmistakable twin chuckles that followed, low and conspiratorial, made her sigh inwardly. Only one pair of mischief-makers could be responsible for that particular sound.

Fred and George Weasley took their seats across from her, grinning with the unabashed glee of two cats who'd just cornered a particularly interesting mouse.

"Merlin's beard, the rumors are true," Fred whispered, leaning in as if about to impart some dark and thrilling secret. Fiona sighed again, the regret for choosing the library over the more predictable peace of the Hufflepuff common room rising like a thick cloud of smoke.

"Does Cedric know about your little black-market apothecary?" George asked, his eyebrows lifting in a perfect mirror of mock astonishment. Genuine curiosity mingled with the ever-present glimmer of amusement in his tone.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Fiona replied, her voice cool and steady, though there was the barest edge of something sharper lurking beneath. She didn't know what game the twins were playing, but she was determined not to be drawn in.

"Relax," Fred said, leaning back in his chair with a grin so wide it seemed to eclipse his entire face. "We're not here to dob you in to the prefects."

Fiona raised an eyebrow, her irritation ebbing slightly as curiosity crept in to take its place. "So what are you two doing here? I don't think I've ever seen either of you voluntarily set foot in the library."

Fred's grin stretched even wider. "Well, princess," he drawled, eyes twinkling with mischief, "there are plenty of places you've never seen us."

"Good talk," Fiona muttered dryly, not bothering to hide the exasperation in her voice as she started to pack her things. Her patience, which had already been strained to its limits, was now fraying dangerously. But she had barely begun to close her textbook when George reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle but firm as he placed his hand on her arm.

"Hear us out," Fred said, and there was something different in his voice now—an earnestness that cut through the usual flippancy. It made Fiona pause, if only for a moment.

"We've got a little project," George continued, his tone adopting an air of practiced nonchalance that didn't quite conceal the underlying excitement. "And it could really use your... expertise."

Fiona hesitated, her fingers still hovering over her book. There was no denying the Weasley twins' knack for trouble, but that same reckless ingenuity also made them formidable when they set their minds to something. And she couldn't deny that they had piqued her curiosity.

Slowly, she sat back down, folding her arms across her chest. "What sort of project?"

Fred and George exchanged a glance, the look that only siblings—especially mischievous ones—could truly share, before turning back to her with matching grins that were all teeth and mischief.

"Something we think you'll find very... intriguing," Fred said, his voice dropping conspiratorially.

"After all," George added, a wicked gleam in his eye, "when it comes to brewing up trouble, we know talent when we see it."

Fiona hesitated, her fingers lingering on the leather cover of her textbook. "You want me to brew something for you?" she asked, a note of interest now lacing her voice, curiosity tugging insistently at the corners of her mind. Since the Triwizard Tournament had been announced, she'd fielded plenty of requests for all sorts of dodgy potions—mostly desperate attempts to outsmart the age restriction. But the Weasley twins weren't desperate amateurs. If they were asking, it had to be something serious.

"More like a consultation," George corrected, his tone slipping into an easy, almost playful cadence. "Georgie and I have hit a bit of a... well, let's call it a creative impasse," Fred added.

"Does this have anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament?" Fiona asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Of course it does!" Fred exclaimed, his fervor unmistakable. His eyes gleamed with the same fire that burned in every Gryffindor who dared to dream too large.

"You'd have to be barking mad not to enter," George added, flashing his trademark grin.

Fiona shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Just what Hogwarts needs, another showboat Gryffindor throwing his wand into the ring."

Fred puffed out his chest, his eyes sparkling with exaggerated pride. "That's Mr. Showboat Gryffindor to you," he declared with mock solemnity.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide the smile tugging at her lips. "But seriously, why would you two want to enter? The tournament's dangerous—you do realize people have died, right?"

Fred's face lit up at the reminder. "Ah, but that's the thing, isn't it? 'Eternal glory' has a certain... flair to it. Sounds rather dashing, don't you think? 'Fred Weasley, Gryffindor, Champion of the Ages'—just imagine that on a résumé."

George snickered, nodding. "Not to mention the prize money. A thousand Galleons could fund all sorts of entrepreneurial endeavors—if you catch my drift."

Fiona raised an eyebrow, amused. "If you needed money so badly, why didn't you just bet on the Quidditch World Cup? I gave you the winning prediction. If you'd listened to me, you'd have plenty of Galleons by now."

Fred and George exchanged sheepish glances, the confident grins faltering ever so slightly.

"We did bet on your prediction," Fred admitted, scratching the back of his head as though wishing he could make the memory vanish with a well-placed vanishing charm. "Everything we had, actually."

George snorted, adding with a wry grin, "Yeah, the problem wasn't trusting your judgment—it was getting our winnings."

Fiona frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

Fred let out a dramatic groan. "Bagman paid us in leprechaun gold."

Fiona's eyes widened. "Oh, no!" She clasped a hand over her mouth, but a snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it, bubbling up like a fizzing Whizbee. Fred and George exchanged a wounded look, and Fiona's mirth faltered. The corners of her mouth twitched with guilt as she tried to school her features into something more sympathetic. "I mean..." she stammered, brushing an imaginary stray hair back behind her ear. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"It vanished," George deadpanned, his voice so flat it only made her want to laugh again.

She pressed her lips together, the urge to chuckle still lingering, but she forced it down. They'd probably watched a small fortune melt away in their hands. Feeling her smile dissolve into a wince, Fiona lowered her hand. "That's awful. Really," she murmured, genuine regret tinging her tone.

Fred leaned forward, an air of determination settling over him like a well-worn cloak. "So here we are, flat broke and with nothing but an empty bag of Galleons."

"And that," George added, his grin returning full force, "is why we absolutely have to enter the Triwizard Tournament. Only way to get back what we lost—plus interest."

Fiona shook her head again, an incredulous smile playing at her lips. "You two are absolutely hopeless."

"Hopelessly charming, you mean," Fred corrected, flashing a grin that managed to look both self-assured and utterly shameless.

"And now," George added, leaning forward conspiratorially, "hopelessly determined to get our hands on that thousand Galleons."

It was impossible not to be caught up in their boundless enthusiasm, their sheer disregard for anything resembling caution. Fiona's own smile widened against her will. "Alright," she said at last, the word slipping out before she could think twice. "I'll help you. But there's something I want in return."

Fred and George exchanged one of those wordless glances, a swift, unspoken conversation passing between them. Whatever they found in each other's gaze seemed to settle something, because they turned back to her, twin grins bright as the morning sun.

"Anything for you," Fred declared grandly, sweeping his arm in a mock bow that nearly sent the ink bottle skidding off the table. "Name it."

"I need access to the Forbidden Forest," Fiona said simply, her tone calm, though her words carried an edge as sharp as a potion master's scalpel.

George's smile faltered for a split second, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "The Forest? What do you need from there?"

"Potion ingredients," she replied, as if it were the most mundane request in the world. "And before you say anything, I can hardly go wandering about in there alone, can I?"

George leaned back, arms crossed, eyes narrowing with an assessing glint. "Well, Miss Diggory, I'd say that's a fair enough trade," he said slowly, but his smirk still held a hint of something calculating.

Fred, never one to let a serious moment stay serious for too long, thrust out his hand, his expression one of exaggerated solemnity. "Care to seal the deal with an Unbreakable Vow?" he asked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Fiona's lips twitched in response, the hint of a wry smile curving at the corners of her mouth. "Not a chance," she said, and with that, the tension that had hung between them evaporated, leaving only the easy camaraderie of two Gryffindors and one reluctant Hufflepuff who, somehow seemed to find herself in the thick of their schemes.

***

Cedric and Fiona sat on the soft grass by the edge of the lake, sunlight pouring over the Black Lake's surface, making it shimmer like molten gold. A gentle breeze stirred the unusually warm October afternoon, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the last breath of summer. Fiona twirled her wand absentmindedly between her fingers, her other hand tracing the same line in her textbook over and over, eyes distant.

"What do you reckon the Champions will have to face?" Cedric asked suddenly, glancing up from his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. His tone was casual, but Fiona could hear the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, that eagerness to prove himself that had always been there, simmering.

Fiona's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch, like a ship caught in a sudden squall. Cedric's name had already started cropping up in whispered conversations in the common room. He was a shoo-in, everyone said. If anyone could bring the cup home for Hogwarts, it was Cedric Diggory. Fiona didn't doubt his abilities for a moment, but the thought of him being Hogwarts' champion made her stomach twist uncomfortably, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

"Dunno," she said lightly, aiming for nonchalance. "Maybe Dementors?"

Cedric grinned, a flash of white teeth, and shrugged one broad shoulder. "That wouldn't be too bad. Wouldn't mind showing up the other schools with a good Patronus, eh? Give Hogwarts an edge after last year."

Fiona's frown deepened. He spoke so casually, as if standing alone against a creature born from fear and despair was merely a particularly tricky Transfiguration spell. It unsettled her, that ease. It was almost like he found the idea... exciting. The thought of Cedric confronting a Dementor alone made something twist deep inside her, cold and heavy.

"Are you going to enter?" she asked quietly, her hand drifting to Nox, the black cat curled up beside her, purring softly in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Nox's fur was silky under her fingertips, grounding her in the way only a familiar's presence could.

Cedric didn't even hesitate. "What's the harm in entering?" he said, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the clear blue sky, as if the answer was written somewhere in the clouds. His smile was easy, carefree, as if he were talking about taking on an extra Quidditch practice. "Eternal glory doesn't sound half bad, does it?"

She snorted softly, despite the way anxiety gnawed at her insides. "Eternal glory? That's a bit Gryffindor of you, isn't it?"

Cedric chuckled, his grey eyes gleaming in the sunlight. "I suppose it is," he admitted. Then his expression softened, and he turned his gaze back to her, a hint of something unspoken lingering there.

Fiona tried to smile, but the expression felt stretched, unfamiliar. The unease inside her only deepened. She couldn't help but wonder if he had any idea what he was getting himself into—or if anyone did.

"What's wrong, Fee?" Cedric's voice was gentle, teasing, but there was a note of something else beneath it—something almost uncertain. "Don't think I've got a shot?"

"You know that's not it," she muttered, fingers digging into the cool grass beneath her. "It's just... I won't be able to protect you if you get selected." She tried to keep her tone light, but the words fell flat between them, weighed down by a truth she hadn't meant to reveal. Cedric's chuckle, when it came, was quieter now—thoughtful.

"Speaking of protection," he said, his tone shifting subtly, "you seemed awfully chummy with the Weasley twins this morning. What's that about?"

Fiona turned her head toward his voice, her sightless eyes fixed unerringly on him. "They just wanted help with a potion, that's all. It's nothing."

Cedric hesitated, the silence between them stretching thin. "Couldn't they have found a Gryffindor to help?"

The question took her by surprise. "Since when do you have a problem with Gryffindors?"

"I don't." He said it too quickly, his voice a shade too tight. He sighed, and Fiona could almost hear the tension uncoiling in him, like a wire stretched too far. "Kenneth Towler, Angelina Johnson... they're fine. But Fred and George—they've always been... well, trouble."

Fiona scoffed, a flash of indignation sparking in her chest. "They weren't trouble when they helped me during the World Cup riots."

"Right," Cedric said quietly, his voice laced with something she couldn't quite place. "Just... be careful, Fee."

She frowned, angling her head as if she could see straight through him. "What do you mean? Since when do you have a problem with Fred and George?"

"I don't," he repeated, though the words tumbled out too quickly, tripping over each other. He sighed again, a heavier sound this time, as if something inside him had deflated. "But what kind of brother would I be if I didn't worry about the Weasley twins suddenly taking an interest in my sister?"

Fiona huffed softly, a breath of laughter escaping her despite herself. "You've got nothing to worry about," she said. Cedric laughed, a low, rueful sound, but the heaviness between them remained, a weight neither of them knew how to lift.

She hesitated, letting the last, lingering rays of sunlight wash over her face. "Ced?"

"Mm?" Cedric's response was a soft hum, his attention drawn back to her.

"Just... be careful," she murmured, a seriousness in her tone that hadn't been there before.

He shifted beside her, the concern clear in his voice. "What is it?"

"With the tournament," she said quietly, her hands stilling in her lap. "If you enter."

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft lapping of the lake against the shore, a silence that seemed to stretch and settle between them. Then she felt him move closer. His arm slipped around her shoulders, a solid weight that was both comforting and protective. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a murmur, filled with quiet determination.

"Don't worry, Fee."

Fiona tried to summon a smile, but it felt tight and unsteady. "I'm useless without you," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could catch them—too honest, too raw.

Cedric's grip tightened ever so slightly, his warmth a steady presence against the creeping chill of her fear. "You're never useless," he whispered back, his tone gentle but firm. "And I promise, I'll be alright."

She leaned into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, but even as she allowed herself to relax, the unease lingered. Somewhere, deep down where shadows gathered, the worry remained—clinging stubbornly, like ivy that refused to let go.

***

Thanks for reading chapter 5! If you liked the chapter I'd love it if you voted and commented!

We got the first mention of my sweet baby Harold Dingle 🥰🥰

Since you're here, I think it's safe to assume you like Fred Weasley fanfics, so if you need more Fred stories to read I wanted to suggest two that I've really liked!

Insomnia by sunflower_squid

The book takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban and it's completed! Squid is working on the second book in the series right now! I don't normally binge stories on Wattpad, but I think I finished Insomnia in like 3 days. I Loved it!

and

The Fox's Garden by siIverveils

This one is set during Prisoner of Azkaban too! There are only 3 chapters published right now, but it's because Len is rewriting the series. I LOVE LOVE the character dynamics in this book! You guys will really enjoy this one too!

They both have other stories too, so check out those too!