- Messages
- 705
- OOC First Name
- Clairey
- Blood Status
- Half Blood
- Relationship Status
- Too Young to Care
- Wand
- Curly 12 1/2 Inch Rigid Willow Wand with Fairy Wing Core
- Age
- 11
There was a time, believe it or not, when Freddie hadn't been cool. It was but a brief period in his life, an inexplicable lapse in his character, if you will, no more than three months from beginning to end, probably preceded by a fever that hadn't fully come down. Nobody talked about it. They didn't dare. Not to his face, anyway. The mere mention of a frog was enough to set Freddie on edge, and he was edgy enough at the best of times.
It all began when he was seven. He was playing near his uncle's pond one afternoon when he discovered a family of frogs living amongst the lily-pads. On each subsequent visit to the pond that week, the frogs rose to the water's surface to greet him. Like most seven-year-olds, his imagination was easily excited by simple things, and he soon arrived at the conclusion he must be some sort of frog-whisperer. Nobody could prove that he wasn't and he spent the next few months telling everybody, in solemn detail, about his magical powers. The fantasy came to an end quite suddenly when one afternoon he leaned a little too far over the water and, losing his footing on the slippery bridge, found himself covered in frogspawn.
However brief this era had been, it alas continued to haunt him. His dear aunt Thalia, who liked to capture life's precious moments, had managed to snap a photo of Freddie holding a bullfrog. He was beaming ear to ear as he held it up to the camera. Dimples. Front teeth missing. He was, quite frankly, adorable. Which was why Thalia had submitted the photograph to the publishers of Frogs and Toads Around the World, who had thus immortalised it in the 2060 edition of their coveted annual*.
Freddie wasn't worried about that. The chances of anybody in the wide world connecting him to the gap-toothed boy in the photograph were probably zero. What did concern him was the way Susie had grinned when she'd seen him at breakfast that morning. There had been added to the library, she told him confidentially, a rather niche collection of annuals. They might interest him, she said. He might want to take a look, she said.
The chances of somebody at Hogwarts connecting him to the gap-toothed boy in the photograph were still fairly close to zero. But a fairly close to zero chance of his reputation being tarnished forever was enough to send him straight to the library, where he made a bee-line for the Care of Magical Creatures section. He paced up and down the shelves until - there. Thank Merlin. The stupid thing was just out of reach, but that was all right. It was as good as his now, anyway. All he needed to do was figure out how to get it down.
*Coveted amongst frog enthusiasts, at least.
It all began when he was seven. He was playing near his uncle's pond one afternoon when he discovered a family of frogs living amongst the lily-pads. On each subsequent visit to the pond that week, the frogs rose to the water's surface to greet him. Like most seven-year-olds, his imagination was easily excited by simple things, and he soon arrived at the conclusion he must be some sort of frog-whisperer. Nobody could prove that he wasn't and he spent the next few months telling everybody, in solemn detail, about his magical powers. The fantasy came to an end quite suddenly when one afternoon he leaned a little too far over the water and, losing his footing on the slippery bridge, found himself covered in frogspawn.
However brief this era had been, it alas continued to haunt him. His dear aunt Thalia, who liked to capture life's precious moments, had managed to snap a photo of Freddie holding a bullfrog. He was beaming ear to ear as he held it up to the camera. Dimples. Front teeth missing. He was, quite frankly, adorable. Which was why Thalia had submitted the photograph to the publishers of Frogs and Toads Around the World, who had thus immortalised it in the 2060 edition of their coveted annual*.
Freddie wasn't worried about that. The chances of anybody in the wide world connecting him to the gap-toothed boy in the photograph were probably zero. What did concern him was the way Susie had grinned when she'd seen him at breakfast that morning. There had been added to the library, she told him confidentially, a rather niche collection of annuals. They might interest him, she said. He might want to take a look, she said.
The chances of somebody at Hogwarts connecting him to the gap-toothed boy in the photograph were still fairly close to zero. But a fairly close to zero chance of his reputation being tarnished forever was enough to send him straight to the library, where he made a bee-line for the Care of Magical Creatures section. He paced up and down the shelves until - there. Thank Merlin. The stupid thing was just out of reach, but that was all right. It was as good as his now, anyway. All he needed to do was figure out how to get it down.
*Coveted amongst frog enthusiasts, at least.
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