"I swear my father thinks I'm a complete idiot."
I looked up from my book.
Draco sat opposite me with a sheet of parchment unfolded in his hands. He was reading it for the second time, looking more irritated with every line.
Blaise, busy with his Potions essay, didn't even raise his head.
"What is it this time?"
"He's asking whether I remember my school responsibilities."
"That sounds like a reasonable question," I observed.
Draco looked at me.
"Don't help."
I smiled and put my book down.
It was Friday evening, and I had no intention of spending it on homework. Snape had set us an essay, and McGonagall hadn't been idle either, but it could all wait until tomorrow.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
The common room was unusually crowded. Older students played wizard's chess by the fire. Every few minutes, the crack of a shattered piece was followed by protests from the losing player. A little further away, two fourth-year girls were leafing through a magazine, while several first-years attempted to build a tower out of Exploding Snap cards.
After the second explosion, one of them moved his chair back. The others apparently intended to keep trying.
Beyond the windows, the lake was almost black. Now and then, an indistinct shape passed the glass, briefly caught in the light from the room.
I liked these evenings. Books and parchment still covered the tables, but fewer and fewer people were pretending they intended to use them.
"Listen to this." Draco raised the letter. "Father expects my marks not to suffer because of Quidditch. At the same time, I'm supposed to prove I deserve my place on the team."
Blaise finished a sentence and set down his quill.
"So you're meant to study and play well."
"I know what he wrote."
"You sounded as though you needed it explained."
Draco folded the parchment rather more carefully than necessary.
"At least Mother asks how I'm feeling."
"That's nice," I agreed.
"And whether I'm eating properly."
Blaise glanced at the biscuits between us.
"Has she sent you a parcel yet?"
Draco didn't answer immediately.
"She has," I said.
"Yesterday. And you're eating it, so you can both stop."
Blaise examined the biscuit in his hand.
"Give her my thanks, then."
"Write to her yourself."
"She might decide I need feeding too. I wouldn't want to give you competition."
Draco reached for a cushion on the next armchair.
Blaise immediately pushed his chair back.
"Violence won't solve your problems."
"It'll cheer me up, though."
The cushion sailed past Blaise's shoulder and hit me in the chest.
I looked at Draco.
"What did I do?"
"Nothing. He ducked."
I settled the cushion on my lap.
"I'm beginning to understand your father."
Draco groaned, and Blaise helped himself to another biscuit.
A little later, Theodore Nott approached with a box of cards.
"Anyone playing?"
Blaise perked up immediately.
"For money?"
"No."
"Pity."
Theodore pulled up a chair.
"You can just give me yours. Save us some time."
Draco moved his letter aside to clear a space on the table.
I didn't know Nott as well as I knew Draco and Blaise, though we'd been in the same classes for over a year. He rarely spoke unless he had something to say. It didn't seem to be shyness. He could listen for a long time, then join in exactly when he wanted to.
As he dealt, he nodded towards Draco's letter.
"Anything interesting?"
"Father reminding me of my responsibilities."
"Mine usually adds who's worth talking to and what I shouldn't say in front of strangers."
"Sounds like riveting correspondence," Blaise remarked.
"It can be useful."
Draco glanced at him.
"Your father knows a lot about the old families, doesn't he?"
"He's interested in them. He owns a few books most people wouldn't open voluntarily."
"You do?"
"Sometimes."
Theodore dealt the last cards and pushed the box to the edge of the table.
"The worst part is that whenever I ask a question, Father takes it as permission to lecture me for an hour."
"He is your father," Draco said.
"I know. He reminds me whenever I try to leave."
Blaise laughed, while Draco merely shook his head.
We began to play. I did reasonably well for the first few hands, until I mixed up my cards and felt a hot sting across my fingers.
I snatched my hand back.
Draco smiled in satisfaction.
"Read more carefully. I thought that was your speciality."
Pansy Parkinson joined us about fifteen minutes later.
She arrived with a cup of tea, watched over Draco's shoulder for a while, then pulled up an empty chair.
"You could have played that earlier."
Draco looked up.
"How do you know what I had?"
"Because I can see half your cards from here."
He immediately pulled them closer.
Blaise grinned.
"Sit down, Pansy. We could use someone who knows what they're doing."
The next hand proved that she did. She won before I'd got rid of half my cards, then announced that she'd expected more of a challenge.
"Modesty's your greatest strength," I said.
"I know."
She reached for her tea while Theodore gathered the deck.
"My mother apparently disagrees. She sent me half a page today about how I should address my relatives."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"I told my aunt her new hat looked like a dead peacock."
Blaise put down his cup.
"To her face?"
"She asked what I thought of it."
I tried to keep a straight face. It didn't work.
Pansy gave me an indignant look.
"It did. It even had feathers hanging off the side."
"I don't doubt it. I'm just wondering whether your aunt saw the resemblance."
"Apparently not."
Draco lowered his head over his cards, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.
Pansy sighed.
"I don't understand adults. They keep telling you to be honest, then get offended when you tell the truth."
"My mother says people mostly like hearing what they already think about themselves," Blaise observed.
"That sounds sensible enough," Theodore said.
"She understands people."
Pansy took a sip of tea.
"I hear she's organising another party."
"Possibly."
"Hasn't she written to you?"
"If it's over Christmas, she's still got time."
"My mother says she's a very resourceful woman."
"How kind of her."
Blaise's reply was calm, but he'd stopped smiling. He began rearranging his cards, though their order hadn't seemed to bother him before.
I knew the rumours about his family. I wasn't about to ask him about his dead stepfathers in front of the whole table.
Theodore slid a card into the middle.
"Whose turn?"
Pansy looked down, and we went back to playing.
"Actually, Oliver…"
I looked up. Pansy was watching me with interest.
"My mother was surprised when I told her about you last year. She thought the Peverells had died out."
Draco nodded at once.
"Father asked whether I was sure I'd heard the name correctly."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I could read a class list."
"Brave," Blaise muttered.
Theodore turned a card between his fingers.
"My father was interested too. He showed me a few passages in a book about your family."
"Really?"
"I didn't study every entry. But a few things were hard to miss."
I put down my cards.
"Such as?"
"How few of you there were. Other family trees have branches, cousins, relatives living abroad. Yours was almost entirely a single line."
"One son," I said.
Theodore nodded.
"Exactly. And the ages at which the men died. A lot of them were around forty."
Draco stopped sorting his cards.
"For several generations?"
"It came up quite often in the pages I looked at. Frederick stood out most. He died at twenty-six, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Father mentioned his work. That was why I noticed."
I knew the impression those records could leave. I'd spent enough time studying them myself.
Theodore didn't know the truth about the curse, though. And I wasn't going to explain it over a game of cards.
"That's a bit grim," Draco said.
"It can be."
Pansy looked from me to Nott.
"What about their wives?"
"They usually lived longer," I replied. "Sometimes much longer."
Blaise raised an eyebrow.
"So marrying a Peverell wasn't bad for everyone."
I smiled faintly.
"Nice to know someone got the better end of the bargain."
Pansy grimaced but let the joke pass.
"Who looked after the next heir?" Draco asked. "If his father died before he could raise him?"
"His mother. His grandmother. It depended on the generation. They didn't all lose their fathers as small children, but they usually still had family afterwards."
I ran a finger along the edge of a card.
"Joseph was only a year old when Frederick died. My father lost his father very young too. They still had their mothers and grandmothers."
Theodore listened closely.
"I didn't remember that about Joseph."
"It's hard to remember everyone."
"Especially when it isn't your family," Blaise added.
"Besides, the women didn't spend their whole lives raising the next Peverell," I said. "They had their own work, businesses, responsibilities on the estate. Life at home didn't stop when their husbands died."
I thought of the portraits. Spend enough time with them, and it became obvious how little they resembled quiet figures standing in the shadow of the family geniuses.
"The women in our family have always had plenty to say."
"Sounds familiar," Draco muttered.
"Grandmother Evelyn would probably get on with your mother."
He looked at me.
"You can talk to her too? Through a portrait?"
"Yes."
"I thought you mostly meant distant ancestors," Pansy said.
"Them too. But Evelyn's my grandmother, and Richard's my grandfather."
Theodore looked up.
"Is there a portrait of Frederick as well?"
"Yes. He teaches me magic."
He sat a little straighter.
"Now that I envy."
Draco snorted.
"Wait until you hear how much he makes Oliver practise."
"I like practising."
"I know. That's the worrying part."
Pansy watched me over her cup for a moment.
"Doesn't it feel strange, talking to people who died so long ago?"
"It did at first. Not any more."
"But they're still portraits. They can't hug you or go for a walk with you."
"No," I admitted.
I wasn't going to pretend otherwise.
"But I can talk to them. Frederick teaches me, Richard tries to improve my chess, and Evelyn can ask several times in one morning whether I've had breakfast."
Draco nodded.
"Yes. She'd definitely get on with Mother."
"I don't spend the same amount of time with all of them," I went on. "Sometimes we just sit in the drawing room. Someone tells a story they remember, and someone else corrects the details. Richard and Evelyn can argue about something that happened decades ago as though it were yesterday's lunch."
I liked those conversations. Even when I barely understood them because I'd never heard half the names before.
"Anyway, I'm not alone. I have a family."
Pansy nodded slowly.
Draco settled back in his chair.
"At least you can leave when they start telling you to study."
I looked at him.
"You've never met Frederick."
"He can't keep you in the room."
"No. But the next day, he can ask whether I've understood the mistake I couldn't be bothered to hear about."
Blaise chuckled.
"And?"
"Usually, I haven't."
Theodore's smile widened.
"I'd like to meet him."
"Maybe one day. Just don't open with the fact that you remember how old he was when he died."
"I'll try to find a better subject."
The game continued, though the conversation kept distracting us from our cards.
Pansy won another hand. Draco accused her of peeking, so she ostentatiously turned her chair around for the next deal and waited until Theodore had finished.
"There's something else I'm wondering," she said as she turned back. "With all that money and family history, you really didn't have any other branches?"
"None still alive that I know of."
"Maybe that's why the fortune lasted so long," Blaise suggested. "No twenty cousins waiting for their share."
"Not every old family divides everything between its descendants," Theodore replied.
"But having no cousins simplifies things."
"It does," I agreed. "Though the money didn't grow just because nobody split it up. Successive generations worked for it too."
Draco suddenly gave me a closer look.
"Does that mean you're actually head of the family?"
"There isn't another living Peverell competing for the position."
Pansy put her cards down.
"So you don't have to ask your parents before you buy things?"
I looked at her.
"Having no parents is a fairly poor way to get that sort of freedom."
She sobered immediately.
"That isn't what I meant."
"I know."
I gave her a small smile. She hadn't meant to hurt me. A moment ago, they'd all been complaining about letters from home, and she'd apparently looked at my situation from that angle.
"Besides, I'm still underage. I can't just sell the estate or dissolve a family fund."
"But you can buy things for yourself?" Draco asked.
"Yes."
"Without writing to someone for money?"
"Yes."
For a moment, Pansy looked as though that was the evening's most important discovery.
"I get five Galleons a month."
"That's decent pocket money," Theodore said.
"I know. But he doesn't even have to ask."
Draco shrugged.
"I get fifteen."
Blaise reached for a biscuit.
"Good thing your mother sends food. Otherwise, you'd struggle."
Draco ignored him with visible effort.
"How much do you usually withdraw, Oliver?"
"As much as I need."
"What about the first time?"
I remembered the enormous doors, the piles of coins, and the family ring.
"I didn't count it exactly. Somewhere between eight hundred and a thousand Galleons, I think."
Theodore stopped shuffling.
Draco stared at me for a moment.
"What for?"
"Expenses."
Blaise put down his biscuit and covered his mouth.
"Oliver, that's nearly six years of my pocket money," Draco said.
I looked at him.
I'd never worked it out that way.
"I didn't spend all of it."
"I should hope not."
"I didn't know how much to take. We didn't use Galleons at the orphanage, and I went to Gringotts before going shopping."
Pansy leaned over the table.
"You didn't ask?"
"There was so much gold in the vault that taking some extra didn't seem like a problem. I knew it was a lot. I didn't know how long it was supposed to last."
Theodore shook his head, smiling.
"Longer than the following weekend."
"I worked that out."
"How did you carry it?" Pansy asked.
"In a pouch with an Extension Charm. Thimgrin sold it to me."
"Who?"
"The goblin who manages the family's assets. He's worked for us for a very long time."
"At least you found someone who knew what he was doing," Theodore observed.
"Definitely. The pouch cost seventeen Galleons."
Draco slowly turned his head.
"For a pouch?"
"Yes."
"Ordinary ones cost about five," Theodore said.
I considered that.
"It was bigger on the inside."
"Those are the ones I mean."
Blaise had given up trying to hide his smile.
"Perhaps it was particularly well made," Pansy suggested. "Or had extra enchantments."
"Maybe," I admitted. "I didn't compare it with any others. But I suspected I was paying too much."
Draco spread his hands.
"And you bought it anyway?"
"I needed something to put the money in."
"With that withdrawal, I imagine you did," Blaise muttered.
Theodore laughed, and I shook my head.
At the time, buying a pouch had seemed far less interesting than the vault, my wand, and the rest of the magical world. It was hard to care about its price when I'd only just discovered I actually had something to put in it.
"I don't buy everything he offers me. On one of my more recent visits, he offered me a carriage to the estate for fifty Galleons. I said no."
"So you do have limits," Blaise said.
"Of course."
"I'm not quite sure where they are, but it's good to know they exist."
This time, I laughed too.
Draco rested his elbows on the table.
"Next time, ask someone about the price before you buy it."
"I could ask you."
"You could."
"What do you charge for advice?"
Blaise snorted, and Draco gave me an offended look.
"I'm trying to help."
"I appreciate it."
Pansy gathered her cards.
"That goblin must enjoy your visits."
"Thimgrin helped me a great deal. I gave him something to thank him, actually."
Blaise went still.
"What did you give him?"
"A handful of Galleons."
Nobody spoke for a second.
Then Theodore bowed his head, Draco covered his face, and Pansy began to laugh.
Blaise pushed his chair back.
"Right. I'm coming next time. I want to see how he greets you."
"I paid him for helping me."
"I believe you. Very generously."
I shook my head, but it was hard to be offended. Told like that, it did sound absurd.
"I'll ask about the pouch while I'm there."
"I'd like to see his face," Theodore said.
"I doubt he'll even blink."
We were talking about Thimgrin, after all.
During the next hand, Theodore returned to the subject of old families.
"You do know the Peverells are in the Sacred Twenty-Nine, don't you?"
I looked up.
"The Twenty-Nine?"
Draco stared at me.
"You didn't know?"
I remembered the Sacred Twenty-Eight from my previous life. Apparently, my family's presence had altered the list.
"I didn't know we were included."
"It's a list from the thirties," Theodore explained. "Families the author considered pure-blood."
"The author?"
"Cantankerus Nott. A relative of ours."
Blaise nodded.
"Of course."
"Father has a first edition," Theodore added, ignoring his tone. "When he showed me the information about your family, he had me look at that too."
"So the Peverells passed your family's quality inspection."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Can't you take this seriously for once?"
"I'm trying to work out who decided."
"Not everyone was pleased to be included," Theodore said.
"The Weasleys," Draco muttered.
"Exactly."
I looked at Draco.
"And you talk about them as though they're an insult to the entire wizarding world."
"Because they don't behave like a proper old family."
"So the name isn't enough?"
"It's about respecting your traditions."
Theodore placed a card on the table.
"Depends on the traditions."
Draco sighed.
"It's impossible to have a normal conversation with you two."
Pansy shifted in her chair.
"Old families ought to care about their standing. The Weasleys act as though it doesn't matter to them."
Before I could answer, Blaise's card exploded, scattering tiny sparks across the table.
He pulled his hand back and blew on his fingers.
"Could we worry about my standing in this game first?"
Later, the conversation turned to homework. Pansy had already finished her Defence assignment, though she thought the instructions were vague enough to cover half the book.
"Granger's probably done exactly that," Draco said.
"Maybe she's written next month's as well," Pansy added.
"I'm more interested in whether Lockhart will read it," I replied.
Someone at the next table had apparently overheard Hermione's name.
"That Mudblood had her hand up all lesson again."
I grimaced, but the boy had already returned to his conversation.
Pansy rolled her eyes.
"Granger really can't stop showing off."
"I like her."
Draco looked up from his cards.
"Granger?"
"No, Snape. Of course I mean Granger."
Blaise snorted.
Pansy looked surprised.
"She's always correcting everyone."
"Sometimes. But she's clever, and I enjoy talking to her."
"About books," Draco observed.
"I mostly talk about books too."
"That's different."
"Because you like me?"
Blaise grinned.
Draco looked at him, then went back to his cards.
Pansy still seemed dissatisfied with the answer.
"But she's Muggle-born."
"I know."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Why would it?"
"She didn't grow up in a wizarding family."
I stared at her for a moment.
"Pansy, I grew up in a Muggle orphanage."
"That's not the same," Draco put in. "You're a Peverell."
"Until recently, I didn't even know I had a family vault. I didn't know the customs, the prices, or most of the things you take for granted."
"It isn't about what you knew. It's about your ancestry."
Pansy nodded.
They didn't see a contradiction. I could know nothing about the wizarding world and still belong in it more than someone who approached learning with Hermione's enthusiasm.
"Where you grew up doesn't change who you are," Pansy said.
"Exactly. And Hermione's parents don't change who she is."
She put down a card, taking a moment before answering.
Draco sighed.
"I didn't say she was stupid."
"I know. You said she was unbearable."
"She is."
"And I said I liked her."
Theodore watched us for a moment.
"She is good at Charms."
"And Transfiguration," I added.
"That doesn't mean we have to like her," Pansy muttered.
"You don't. And I'm not going to pretend I don't."
Draco shrugged.
"Your business."
"Exactly."
Blaise slid a card into the middle.
"Now we've established that Oliver's going to read books with Granger, is anyone planning to play?"
Pansy glanced at the table and immediately put down a card of her own.
I hadn't changed their minds about Hermione. I hadn't expected to.
But I wasn't going to share their dislike just because we were sitting at the same table. They could find her a know-it-all. Her parents' background still wasn't an argument as far as I was concerned.
I reached for another card.
A moment ago, they'd been laughing because I hadn't known the value of a Galleon, but my name was enough to make me one of them. Hermione could learn the entire library by heart, and some of them would still see her as an outsider.
That was considerably stupider than buying an overpriced pouch.
About an hour later, Theodore suggested chess.
Blaise agreed at once. Pansy returned to her friends, and Draco went to speak to an older member of the Quidditch team.
I decided it was time to head up to the dormitory.
"You're not staying?" Blaise asked.
I looked at the chessboard being set up.
"I don't want to watch you lose."
"We haven't started yet."
"That's why I'm leaving now."
He gave me the finger.
I answered with a polite smile and headed for the stairs.
The dormitory was quiet. I put down my book, sat on the bed, and took off my shoes.
For a moment, I considered going straight to sleep. Then my eyes fell on my wand.
An idea had been on my mind for several days.
During my Protego practice, I'd used my right eye to examine the lines of active magic. I was beginning to recognise differences between shields that held for a while and those that collapsed almost immediately. I still couldn't explain every irregularity, but at least I knew what to look for.
I'd been thinking about Will too.
My Shield Charm was still too unstable for me to easily distinguish a deliberate change from an ordinary mistake. I needed to try something I knew much better.
I raised my wand.
"Lumos."
A small light appeared at its tip.
I held it so it illuminated the open notebook in front of me. The pool of light covered the pages, the bedspread, and part of the floor.
I wanted it to fall only on the notebook. Instead of spreading in every direction, it should concentrate on a narrower area.
I wasn't going to feed it more magic or move my wand. I wanted to know whether I could make an existing spell behave differently.
I focused my right eye.
A delicate weave of lines appeared around the wand tip. It was less elaborate than the structure of a shield, but that didn't mean I understood every part of it.
For a while, I simply watched.
Then I reached for my Will.
The light was to fall on the notebook's pages. Nowhere else.
Nothing changed.
I tried again, making sure I kept my hand still. The light flickered slightly, and one of the lines near the wand tip bent before returning to its original position.
I couldn't tell whether I was seeing the effect of my left eye or simply my concentration on the ordinary spell.
On the third attempt, I felt a brief resistance.
The edge of the pool of light shifted across the bedspread. The notebook's pages brightened, while the floor beside the bed grew darker for an instant.
I went still.
A second later, the light was spreading evenly again.
"Oh."
I looked at my wand, then at the notebook.
That was much more interesting than simply making Lumos brighter.
For a moment, it had looked as though the light really had concentrated where I wanted it. But had I changed the spell through Will, or had I instinctively done something I could have achieved without it?
My right eye had caught a movement in the weave. I hadn't had time to study it properly before everything returned to normal.
I wanted to try again immediately.
I raised my wand a little higher, then stopped.
If I changed its position, the brightness, and the way I concentrated all at once, tomorrow I'd have no idea what had actually worked.
Frederick would probably tell me to describe the attempt. Then he'd ask about three things I hadn't noticed.
I sighed.
"Nox."
The light went out. I lit the bedside lamp and reached for my quill.
I wrote down what I'd intended to do and what I'd seen. I noted that the pool of light had narrowed only briefly, and that the pages had grown brighter. I couldn't be certain the amount of magic sustaining Lumos had stayed the same.
Next time, I should first see whether I could achieve a similar effect with the spell alone. Then I could compare it with using Will.
Below that, I added another question.
Could I change the direction of the light without moving my wand?
And beneath it:
Could I influence the movement of a levitating object in a similar way?
I smiled.
I'd wanted to conduct one simple experiment, and already I was eager to try ten more.
I closed the notebook before adding any others.
Next time, I'd try to repeat the first change. If I could hold it long enough, I'd have something to examine.
On Saturday morning, Blaise looked particularly displeased.
"Three times," he announced as we went down to breakfast.
I looked at him.
"You lost?"
"To Nott. Three times."
"You could have stopped after the second game," Draco observed.
"I was close in the third."
"To what?" I asked.
Blaise shot me a look.
I smiled to myself.
The Great Hall wasn't crowded yet. We sat near a group of older Slytherins. Draco reached for the toast, Blaise poured himself some juice, and I began helping myself to scrambled eggs.
Then I heard the conversation further down the table.
"I told you not to back Pucey."
"Before that, you said the Ravenclaw didn't stand a chance."
"That's how it looked."
"Until Pucey ended up on the floor."
One of the boys snorted. I recognised him from the Quidditch team. I'd seen the other around the common room.
"He wasn't paying attention."
"And it cost me two Sickles."
I slowed, my fork hovering over my plate.
Pucey and a Ravenclaw. Someone on the floor. Bets.
"Fred warned you," the first boy said.
"Fred Weasley tells everyone something different. Then he can always claim he warned you."
"Don't bet next time, then."
"Next time, I'm going to George. At least he doesn't smile like that when he takes my money."
They both laughed.
I put down my fork.
"Draco."
"What?"
"Have you heard about students organising duels?"
He looked at me over his toast.
"What duels?"
I nodded towards the older boys.
"I think they're talking about one. Apparently, you can bet on the results."
Draco glanced over.
"That sounds interesting."
Blaise had started listening too.
"If they're taking bets, I doubt they're just practising Disarming Charms in an empty classroom."
"All the more reason to watch," I said.
He studied me.
"Watch or join in?"
"Watch, to start with."
"Thought I'd ask before you decided the dummy wasn't enough for you any more."
Draco put down his toast.
"We could just ask them."
I nodded, and we got up. Blaise finished his juice, then followed us.
The older boy noticed us first.
"What do you want?"
"We heard you talking about duels," I said. "Where are they held?"
He raised his eyebrows, then glanced at Draco and Blaise.
"What year?"
"Second."
"Perhaps you should learn to cast spells properly first."
His friend took a closer look at me.
"That's Peverell."
"I know."
"Good," I said. "Because I still don't know where the duels are held."
The second boy snorted, while the first looked me over.
"Can you even fight?"
"I'm learning."
"Thought so."
He rested an elbow on the table.
"Not everything the older students do is meant for second-years."
"We only want to watch," Draco put in.
"Then you'll bring your friends, who'll only want to watch too. No."
He didn't sound angry, but he reached for his cup and turned back to his friend. Apparently, the conversation was over.
There was no point looming over him for the rest of breakfast.
"Thanks."
We returned to our seats.
Draco sat down looking displeased.
"He could at least have told us when."
"He didn't want to," Blaise observed. "Made that fairly clear."
"But the duels are happening," I said.
Blaise glanced at me.
"We already knew that."
"Now we also know they don't invite just anyone."
I picked up my fork again.
I had no idea what these meetings were like. Who fought, what rules they followed, or who made sure nobody got seriously hurt.
I wanted to find out.
Hogwarts was full of wizards older than me. They knew more spells and could use them in ways I wasn't going to see in Lockhart's classroom. Even watching their duels could teach me a lot.
And if Fred and George were taking bets, they apparently knew where to find the people involved.
Draco leaned a little closer.
"What are you thinking?"
"That we asked the wrong people."
Blaise looked towards the Gryffindor table.
"The Weasleys?"
I smiled.
"You heard."
"I also heard they're happy to take people's money."
"We'll see whether they charge for a conversation."
Draco seemed to be weighing the advantages and disadvantages of asking the twins for a favour. Curiosity was evidently winning.
"Shall we?"
I looked at my plate.
"After breakfast."
We had the whole of Saturday ahead of us. Fred and George were unlikely to vanish from the castle in the next ten minutes.
And my eggs were already getting cold.