Weasley and me ( A George Weasley Story )

Arsin

On the way back from Hogwarts my heart pained to see Cho aimlessly stare outside the train window. Padma remained silent too. I lay my head on George's shoulder trying to figure out the meaning of life. Voldemort was back and I was petrified. When I turned my head away from the window, I noticed someone staring at me from outside the coach. Professor Moody the real one stared at me with both his eyes. It made me uncomfortable. I excused myself on the pretext for using the restroom.

Professor Moody smelled very different from Barty Crouch Junior. I no longer felt the urge to throw a killing curse his way. "Do you know what you are child?" He whispered.

"A witch." I was confused.

He smirked. "You were born with a gift. Utilize it wisely." And Moody walked away.

What the hell was that supposed to mean! Everyone on this train was gifted with magic! Professor Moody had lost his bloody mind having spent so much time locked up in a box by Barty Crouch Junior. I went back to my seat.

In a few hours we reached Kings Cross. I followed Cho around till I saw he run into her parent's arms. I knew my work here was done. They would take good care of her for now. I did promise to spend some time at her place over the holidays.

As I turned around, I saw two familiar faces staring at me from the farthest end of the platform. I let out a shriek and darted towards my parents. I was happy that they were safe. I embraced both in a tight hug. I must have hugged them for a whole three minutes. I spotted Mad Eye Moody staring at me from a corner. He sure was weird. I held my mother palm in mine. Her crescent shaped black ring touched my fingers. Something was carved on the back of the ring band, the family name I thought to myself. I ran my index finger over the carving. God! I was curious. The words read Arsin not Macmillan.

"Good evening Mrs. Macmillan. Hello Sir" I heard George's familiar voice.

"Hello Georgie. I hope my daughter did not trouble you too much this year!" My mother smiled.

Arsin! I had read about them before. One of the pure blood families wiped out of existence centuries ago. I tried to recollect what I had read about them.

"Mum, Dad, I want you to meet someone special." I mustered up all my courage. George looked nervous. I took his palm in mine and intertwined my fingers in his. My Dad's expression did not falter one bit, but my mother smiled lovingly at us, and George let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally! I had a bet going with Molly that you both would get together this year." Mum sounded thrilled.

What George did not notice was my dad hiding a clenched fist behind his back. My mother in one swift motion had moved my dad's wand out of his pocket and into hers. She continuously rubbed her a palm on dad's back trying to sooth him down as she effortlessly joked with George as if nothing was wrong. My dad stared at George expressionless, but I knew the feeling. The feeling of uncontrollable rage. The urge to punch a wall, the feeling to hit someone with a killing curse. Oh! I knew the feeling too well.

Then it all came flooding to me.

Arsins were one of the most dangerous wizarding families. In ancient literature the word Arsin meant assassin. Members of this family had enhanced sensory powers to easily locate their prey which initially consisted of animals but in recent centuries powerful wizards utilized the clan for stealth assassination missions. Apart from enhances sensory powers members of the clan also processed unmatched reflexes, powerful magic and the ability to seduce a rock. Uncontrollable rage resulted in the downfall of this clan. The rage enhanced their powers and a single enraged Arsin was said to have bought down an entire magical empire. In retaliation Dragons were bought in to rain fire on them which was said to have led to their untimely demise.

Historians have stated that no Arsin remains were obtained after Dragons destroyed their village. Arsins processed the ability to effortlessly disappear into the crowd. They blended in with Muggles and thrived within wizarding communities. Historian's time and again have raised the question, could they still be living amongst us?

I stared at my father. Did my mother know what she had married into? My father was now staring back at me while George blissfully chatted with my mother unaware of the eminent danger I had put him in. My hand reached for my wand, but it was gone! Perched in my mother's jeans pocket lay three wands. She knew bloody well what she had got herself into.

To be continued...