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Assistant: Title: The Traitor’s Heir
        Author: grwieve grwieve 
        Chapter: 1/8 
        Summary: When the traitor's heiress meets the cocky, insufferable, red-headed Weasley—there is one thing for sure: They absolutely, utterly, despise each other.But, they do say hate is the purest magic; and theirs burns particularly bright.Fred Weasley x OCSlow burn with tensionSomewhat Canon-Compliant.
        Contents: Chapter 1: Nimbus 2001.
    

    


      
        
          hello, this is my first fanfic ive written in almost a decade, so please bare with if its not great. anyways i hope you guys love fred weasley as much as i do. and if you do, i hope you enjoy this story.i would like to preface that this story will mainly be canon, aside from the fact that it is my OC and the years do not line up with the events in the books. so i will leave that up to your imagination, but everything else is written as close to the storyline as i can for the characters. any non-canon stuff is purely out of slytherin having NO CHARACTERS !! enjoy <3spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/31xagsrx2ttzkye2cyzqo5bsjj6e?si=ee9c35def1244377
      
  

  
  
    
    Summer was never her favourite time of the year.Whilst most students at Hogwarts were keen to return home after exams, Isadora found herself dreading it. Infact—on many occasions—she found herself begging the Headmaster, Dumbledore, to let her stay over the summer break. She hadn't expected any different when she was met with a 'no' year after year.Although Isadora didn't particularly have a place to call home, the Leaky Cauldron sufficed as a residency over the two months she wasn't attending Hogwarts. The landlord, Tom, had been kind enough to not charge her any Galleons for rent—seeing as she kept quietly in her room most of the time. It wasn't that she couldn't afford it—her caretakers having left her quite a generous sum—though instead, it was Tom feeling pitiful of the young girl. Isadora disliked being pitied so blatantly, but she was not the person to turn down good will. Besides, having saved her money, it left her with enough Galleons to afford a new broom for Quidditch the upcoming year.Two knocks sounded from her bedroom door, before creaking open slightly to reveal the face of a small boy, Neville Longbottom, his hands clasped around a mug of tea."Hello, Neville. Come in," she smiled, kicking her feet from her bed. As of late, Neville had been spending his days at the Leaky Cauldron. His parents, Frank and Alice, had suffered due to an incident during the First Wizarding War. Isadora never pried much, knowing it was a sensitive topic for the boy, sometimes hearing his faint cries through the thin walls late at night. She had somewhat come to befriend the boy this summer, having not seen him much at school. He was two years younger than her, and besides hearing about his parents, she never cared much to make a connection."H-Hi Isadora. Tom has asked me to bring you some tea," he stammered, the apples of his cheeks turning a bright pink. Isadora stood herself up, throwing on her knit cardigan around her shoulders before grabbing the warm mug from Nevilles reach."Send him my thanks, please," she said, sipping the drink. Neville nodded his head swiftly, now standing awkwardly in the frame of her door twiddling his thumbs. He looked as though he was trying to telepathically ask her a question to save himself the embarassment of speaking aloud. "Is there something else you need?""OH—no, well... yes, I suppose," his entire face had now gone that same bright shade of pink, "I wanted to know if you had done your shopping for the upcoming year yet.""Not yet, no. I haven't given it much thought, honestly," she replied, peering at the calendar pinned to the wall above her desk. The summer had turned into such a muddled memory that Isadora had almost forgot she would be returning to Hogwarts in just two weeks.Neville let out a quick sigh of relief, before realising he had exhaled loud enough for her to hear. "Sorry, I just was wondering if you perhaps... would want to go together?" he blurted, "As friends, of course—not that I mean't it the other way."Isadora returned him a smile, laughing with relief at his question, "Of course, Neville. It'll be fun... how about before tea?" The boy nodded quickly before turning on his heel impatiently and running back down the cooridor to his room. His growing crush on the older girl had become more prominent as the holidays went on.The noise emerging from downstairs alerted her that the Leaky Cauldron had now opened for the day, wizards and witches beginning to emerge for a morning pick-me-up. Most of them staggered in drunk from the previous night's drinking at this hour. She closed her wooden door, throwing her pyjamas off into a pile that had begun to build at the bottom of her bed. Her closet was looking rather bare, yet Isadora found herself not being bothered to actually go downstairs and do her laundry before she needed to. Not that she didn't like the company—rather, she enjoyed it, but she had been getting quite tired of telling the same old story of how she wound up here in the first place. "Crinus Muto," she muttered, waving her wand with a small swish. Her bedhead transfigured in one motion to a curled wave of blonde and black, and Isa found herself thanking magic now being permitted outside of school. She mentally noted that she ought to touch up the dyed bits of her hair—her black roots growing in to match the inky tips, while blonde sandwiched between.Diagon Alley was always rammed this time of year, most students travelling by Floo with their families to check off the list of materials needed for their next year. Isadora grabbed the crumpled parchment off her desk, unravelling it to reveal the usual items requested this far into school. It was in first years that the professors grew rather greedy, eagerly jotting down lists of new cauldrons, uniforms, and whatnot. She had felt rather skint by the end of her second year shop. Reaching into the pile of clothes, her hand grabbed for a loose black dress. Blimey, it was hot out today. End of summer meant the air began to turn from warm July to sticky and humid August. The thud of Neville's door hitting the wall signaled he was ready. She grabbed her tanned leather jacket, then swung her own door open and stepped out. There he was stood, hands crossed behind his back, swaying on his heels as he waited."I'm ready to go, if you still want to! But that's alright if you don't, we can always go another day," he exclaimed. She nodded a yes in return as he took off down the banister, then closed her door and followed in pursuit. Tom—whom already looked exhausted—waved politely behind the counter, grinning at Nevilles excitement. Leading directly into Diagon Alley were the Leaky Cauldron, revealing a mass of students accompanied by their families for some early school shopping. Isadora had hoped this wouldn't of been the case—her being alone garnering certain looks from disapproving wizards—namely the Malfoys. 'A disgrace to Slytherin,' Lucius Malfoy had scoffed on more than one occasion, ever the picture of pure-blood superiority. It was, of course, unthinkable to him that she didn't even know whether she was pure-blooded or not. And Lucius, being Lucius, simply assumed the worst—Mudblood.They decided to call 'round Flourish and Blotts first. Isa had needed a few new textbooks for Defence Against the Dark Arts, with the previous years Professor, Lockheart, having quit. It wasn't unusual at this point, and had seemed like every year, the students were being introduced to a new Professor. Neville had spotted a book on Herbology—One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi—and had decided to wander off, debating if it were worth the two Galleons. He decided it were.Next were Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, then Bufo's—Neville's toad, Trevor, had gotten lost again—and finally Gringotts. "I'll just be a second, I'm going to take out some more money so I can afford new Quidditch gear. New regulations, and all," she told him before walking into Gringotts and waiting in queue. She disliked lying to Neville, though she rather avoid any questions about the real reason she needed new Quidditch gear. The year before, Draco Malfoy—or rather, Lucius—had gifted every pure-blood member of the Slytherin team a Nimbus 2001, buying his son a spot as Seeker. Isadora had been the only one left out."Name?" grunted the goblin from behind the counter, barely glancing up from his ledger."Isadora Blackwood, sir," she replied, sliding her key across the polished surface.The goblin took it with his long, bony fingers, inspecting it briefly before nodding. "Vault number?"She recited it from memory, watching as the goblin turned to a nearby assistant, who scurried off into the depths of the bank."How much?""One hundred and eighty Galleons."The goblin returned a curt nod, scratching something onto a long roll of parchment. Moments later, a different goblin returned, a heavy pouch in hand. With a reluctant expression, the first goblin placed it before her."Count it if you must," he muttered.She pulled the pouch closer, the weight of the coins within reassuring her, and gave a small smile. "Thank you, sir."The goblin merely grunted and called for the next customer.Outside, a group of students stood chatting to Neville, which took Isadora by surprise. She had always assumed the poor boy had no friends. Immediately, she recognised two of them—one with flaming red hair, undoubtedly a Weasley, the other with round, broken glasses resting low on his nose: Harry Potter. She had recognised him from the previous year—Gryffindor's Seeker. Between them stood a girl with thick, curly brown hair."I'm ready, Neville. These your friends?" Isadora asked, shoving the thick pouch into her pocket.Nevilles face flushed, unsure of how to respond."Yes, we are," said Harry, earning a side-eye from the small Weasley beside him."Hi, Harry. I assume Wood's made you Seeker again this year?" she asked, having no doubt that he had. The day Harry Potter became Gryffindor's seeker was the day Wood never shut up about it."Of course, he has," the girl interjected before Harry could answer. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." She extended a hand for a handshake."Malfoy still your Seeker?" The Weasley sneered, his disdain for Draco eating through his words.Isadora laughed at the mutual feeling the two shared, "Merlin, I hope not." This earned a smile from all four of the children."Neville, I'm going to get my Quidditch gear now, why don't you stay with your friends and we can meet later, alright?" She said, noticing it was soon to be tea time. The boy nodded reluctantly—waiting for approval from his peers—before Isa took off towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. In the window sat the Nimbus 2001, it's sleek black handle adorned with silver markings, paired with a neat row of birch twigs that shimmered in the sunlight. It was bl@@dy perfect, and she was due the upgrade. The store bell chimed as she walked in, heading directly for the broom. Though the speed given from a Nimbus wasn't quite what a Chaser needed, it sure wasn't a disadvantage. And Slytherin desperately needed a win this year, after the shameful loss the season before."New broom, Blackwood? Oh, don't tell me—you reckon that's why Slytherin lost last season? Hate to break it to you, but no amount of shiny twigs is fixing that disaster."Isadora's head snapped up from her trance on the broom, only to find a familiar freckled face grinning over her shoulder."Hello to you too, Weasley," she responded dryly, "Sorry—which one are you again? Never quite cared enough to tell."The Weasley twins, Fred and George, had made a name for themselves during their time at Hogwarts. Both being infamous for their pranks, they were also Gryffindor's best Beaters. Isadora had taken a Bludger to the ribs from them a time or two."The better-looking one," he winked, a tuft of red hair flopping across his forehead. He was dressed in black trousers and a white button-up, topped with a slightly rumpled knit jumper—effortlessly scruffy, as ever.She rolled her eyes. "Ah. Hi, Fred.""So you do think I'm better-looking than George," he said, smirking."No," she huffed, "You're just twice as annoying. Makes it easier to tell you apart."Fred clutched his chest, staggering back dramatically. "Merlin's beard, Blackwood, you wound me."And in that moment, she dearly wished she could grab a Bludger to do exactly that."Blimey, what's got you shelling out Galleons for a Nimbus 2001, then?" Fred asked, quirking a brow. "Didn't Malfoy's father buy the whole bl@@dy lot for Slytherin last year?""Sort of," she admitted, adjusting her grip on the broom handle. "Bought it for all the pure-bloods."Fred's face twisted in confusion for a moment before coming to realisation. His expression shifted—more forgiving—as he let out a low whistle. "Right. Guess that explains why they spent half the season chanting your name, then—just not exactly in the 'go on, you've got this' sort of way."Isadora returned a humourless laugh. Of course he remembered. Slytherin had made their opinions loud and clear whenever she missed a shot, their jeers ringing round the pitch sharper than a rogue Bludger. This had made her spend more time than usual wondering why the sorting hat placed her in Slytherin in the first place. She couldn't quite put a finger on it.Fred pulled a face. "Well. Not like it made much of a difference, did it?" He shot her a lopsided grin. "If it cheers you up, I caught Marcus Flint giving Pucey an absolute earful earlier. Reckon Malfoy won't be your problem for much longer."She spun on her heel, her attention shifting back to the broom as she fished out the weighted pouch of coins. "Shame. Who am I meant to blame for hexxing your broom now?"The bell above the door jingled as the second twin strided his way up to Fred's side. George was quieter than his brother—which she rather appreciated—though at this moment, she'd have given anything for him to drag Fred off elsewhere. Her patience was wearing thin, and to her dismay, she was beginning to realise Fred had a point. The whole team had better brooms, yet Gryffindor still outclassed them. Perhaps splashing out on new gear wasn't the answer after all."You alright, Blackwood?" George grinned, slinging an arm around Fred's shoulders. "C'mon, Freddie, we've got fireworks to stock up on!"The two boys dashed out of the shop, too eager to bother with goodbyes. Isadora let out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful that their conversation had been cut short. Still, as she watched the pair of red heads disappear in the direction of Gambol and Japes, she couldn't help but wonder what chaos was in store for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Outside, Neville stood clutching an armful of Herbology books—far more than what was listed on his supply sheet. The stack was so precariously high that she nearly missed the short boy altogether. "You all set then, Isadora? Thought you needed new gear?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to see past his books.She took a few from the top, tucking them under her arm as they started back towards the Leaky Cauldron."You know," she said with a smirk, "an old friend reminded me—I've already got everything I need to wipe the floor with Gryffindor."────────────The Leaky Cauldron tended to get busier this time of day. With most students heading there for tea, Isadora wasted no time slipping past the crowd and back up into her room. In her books, avoiding any potential run-ins with fellow classmates was ideal. The longer, the better. She had previously avoided that—up until today. It wasn't that she disliked the Weasley twins; in fact, she was well acquainted with George. His brother, however, was a different story. Fred Weasley was cocky, loud, and never passed up a chance to remind Isadora of every easy goal she missed against them. If it weren't for the fact she was practically forced into seeing him each week on the pitch, she would have avoided him all together.Besides, Isadora wasn't one to bother much with making friends. She never found herself agreeing with the passing by conversation that flowed out of the Slytherin common room—as of late, a smear campaign on Harry Potter, which she didn't quite understand. Harry was an excellent Seeker, and a humble one at that. Aside from strategising with Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey—both fellow Chasers—Isadora was content keeping to herself.A soft meow drifted from beneath her bed, followed by the sight of her cats fluffy, black tail—Marmite, or Marmie as she preferred to call her—springing out from the shadows. Isadora sighed in resignation, cursing the day twelve-year olds were given the power to name their pets. Not to mention the fact that every year, without fail, she'd have to endure the awkward explanation of why her younger self thought naming her cat after a Muggle food was the height of comedy."You hungry already, Marmie?" She whispered to the now purring cat, placing her books on her desk. Her jacket and dress slipped off, once again joining the ever-growing pile of laundry, as she quickly jumped into her bright pink pyjamas with bunny prints. They were rather a sight, to be sure, but Tom had given them to her, and despite their rather horrendous look, she wore them as a token of gratitude. The chatter downstairs had begun to lessen, making her feel more assured in walking down to have tea. Marmie trailed beneath her feet as the two took off to the back kitchen, where Tom greeted them with full plates. His weary grin grew slightly bigger at the sight of the bunny print pyjamas."Thank you, Tom. Are you sure you don't need any help 'round here tonight?" She asked, feeling guilty of not being much aid in service. "No, no... you've already done enough with taking the boy out today. Would've been a job for me later on the week if not," he smiled, placing Marmie's bowl down on the tiled floor.She pursed her lips into a tight smile, bowing her head ever so slightly in thanks. Isadora waited as Marmie finished her meal, the cat taking her sweet time, as usual. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, absently tracing the rim of an empty teacup. The shop was quiet now, a comfortable stillness settling in the air as tea had passed. Tom had gone back to his tasks, humming softly to himself, and Isadora found her mind wandering.At last, with a soft sigh, she stood, casting a glance down at Marmie, who was finshing the last of her food. "Come on, Marmie," she muttered, collecting her plate from the counter. She padded back towards the stairs, her slippers making a soft shuffle on the floor. As she reached the foot of the stairs, a whistled voice called out from behind her."Nice look, Blackwood."Isadora froze, her heart skipping a beat at the all-too-familiar tone. Slowly, she turned around, already dreading the sight. Fred Weasley was leaning casually against the empty wooden table, a cheeky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he eyed her mismatched pyjamas. "Bunny prints, eh? Rather... bold choice."She raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to hide her scowl. "Charming, as ever," she muttered under her breath, turning back to the stairs to hide the flush of her cheeks. Though, despite herself, a fleeting thought crossed her mind—perhaps Fred Weasley wasn't quite as unbearable as she'd convinced herself.
  No, she definitely disliked him.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
Assistant: