'Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see,' said Ron. They're really useful.'
'Extendable - ?'
'Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know - '
'We have,' said Hermione quickly. 'We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bed-rooms and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo- AARGH!'
With two loud cracks, Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers, had materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig on top of the wardrobe.
'Stop doing that!' Hermione said weakly to the twins, who were as vividly red-haired as Ron, though stockier and slightly shorter.
'Hello, Harry' said George, beaming at him. 'We thought we heard your dulcet tones.'
'You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out,' said Fred, also beaming. There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you.'
'You two passed your Apparation tests, then?' asked Harry grumpily.
'With distinction,' said Fred, who was holding what looked like a piece of very long, flesh-coloured string.
'It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs,' said Ron.
'Time is Galleons, little brother,' said Fred. 'Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears,' he added in response to Harry's raised eyebrows, and held up the string which Harry now saw was trailing out on to the landing. 'We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs.'
'You want to be careful,' said Ron, staring at the Ear, 'if Mum sees one of them again . . .'
'It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having,' said Fred.
Turning to Fred and George, she said, 'Its no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.'
'How d'you know?' said George, looking crestfallen.
'Tonks told me how to find out,' said Ginny. 'You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap.'
Fred heaved a deep sigh.
'Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to.'
'Snape!' said Harry quickly. 'Is he here?'
'Yeah,' said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. 'Giving a report. Top secret.'
'Git,' said Fred idly.
'Is Bill here?' he asked. 'I thought he was working in Egypt?'
'He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order,' said Fred. 'He says he misses the tombs, but,' he smirked, 'there are compensations.'
'What d'you mean?'
'Remember old Fleur Delacour?' said George. 'She's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove 'er Eeenglish -
'And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons,' sniggered Fred.
'Charlie's in the Order, too,' said George, 'but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off.'
'What d'you mean?'
'Remember old Fleur Delacour?' said George. 'She's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove 'er Eeenglish -
'And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons,' sniggered Fred.
'Charlie's in the Order, too,' said George, 'but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off.'
'Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks what-ever he's holding and Mum starts crying,' Fred said.
'It's been awful,' said Ginny sadly.
'I think we're well shot of him,' said George, with an uncharacter-istically ugly look on his face.
'What's happened?' Harry said.
'Percy and Dad had a row,' said Fred. 'I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts.'
'It was the first week back after term ended,' said Ron. 'We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted.'
'Yeah, we were all surprised,' said George, 'because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realised Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain.'
'He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think.' [Ron]
'Only Dad wasn't,' said Fred grimly.
'Why not?' said Harry.
'Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore,' said George.
'Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see,' said Fred. They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back.'
'Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks,' said George. 'Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession.'
'Uh oh.'
Fred gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug; there was another loud crack and he and George vanished. Seconds later, Mrs Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway.
A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended in front of Harry's eyes. Looking up, he saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear towards the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they all began to move towards the front door and out of sight.
'Dammit,' Harry heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.
'Fred - George - NO, JUST CARRY THEM!' Mrs Weasley shrieked.
Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked round and, within a split second, they had dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.
'FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!' screamed Mrs Weasley. THERE WAS NO NEED - I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS - JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!'
'We were just trying to save a bit of time!' said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table. 'Sorry, Sirius, mate - didn't mean to - '
'Boys,' Mr Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, 'your mother's right, you re supposed to show a sense f responsibility now you've come of age - '
'None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!' Mrs Weasley raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on lo the table, and spilling almost as much again. 'Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy - '
A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill's words. Fred, George, Ron and Mundungus were rolling around in their seats.
'I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons,' said Mrs Weasley coldly.
Fred and George buried their faces in their goblets of Butterbeer; George was hiccoughing. For some reason, Mrs Weasley threw a very nasty look at Sirius before getting to her feet and going to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding. Harry looked round at his godfather.
'Hang on!' interrupted George loudly.
'How come Harry gets his questions answered?' said Fred angrily.
'We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and y du haven't told us a single stinking thing!' said George.
' "You're too young, you're not in the Order," ' said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. 'Harry's not even of age!'
'It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing,' said Sirius calmly, 'that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand - '
Ron, Hermione, Fred and Georges heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.
'Very well,' said Mrs Weasley, her voice cracking. 'Ginny - Ron - Hermione - Fred - George - I want, you out of this kitchen, now.'
There was instant uproar.
'We're of age!' Fred and George bellowed together.
'NO!' shouted Mrs Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. 'I absolutely forbid - '
'Molly you can't stop Fred and George,' said Mr Weasley wearily. They are of age.'
They're still at school.'
'But they're legally adults now,' said Mr Weasley, in the same tired voice.
Mrs Weasley was now scarlet in the face.
'I - oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron - '
'I want you in bed, now. All of you,' she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.
'You can't boss us - ' Fred began.
'Watch me,' snarled Mrs Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. 'You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.'
It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin.
'The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,' he said. 'Wizards who have left school,' he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you . . . I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.'
Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Herrnione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognising defeat, followed suit.
'Asleep, yeah, right,' said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them goodnight and they were climbing to the next floor. 'If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her every-thing they said downstairs then I'm a Flobberworm . . .'
"Night,' Harry and Ron said to the twins.
'Sleep tight,' said Fred, winking.
Crack.
'OUCH!'
'Keep your voice down, Ron, or Mum'll be back up here.'
'You two just Apparated on my knees!'
'Yeah, well, it's harder in the dark.'
Harry saw the blurred outlines of Fred and George leaping down from Ron's bed. There was a groan of bedsprings and Harry's mattress descended a few inches as George sat down near his feet.
'So, got there yet?' said George eagerly.
The weapon Sirius mentioned?' said Harry.
'Let slip, more like,' said Fred with relish, now sitting next to Ron. 'We didn't hear about that on the old Extendables, did we?'
'What d'you reckon it is?' said Harry.
'Could be anything,' said Fred.
'But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra Curse, can there?' said Ron. 'What's worse than death?'
'Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once,' sug-gested George.
'So who d'you think's got it now?' asked George.
'I hope it's our side,' said Ron, sounding slightly nervous.
'If it is, Dumbledore's probably keeping it,' said Fred.
'Where?' said Ron quickly. 'Hogwarts?'
'Bet it is!' said George. That's where he hid the Philosopher's Stone.'
'A weapons going to be a lot bigger than the Stone, though!' said Ron.
'Not necessarily,' said Fred.
'Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,' said George. 'Look at Ginny'
'What d'you mean?' said Harry.
'You've never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?'
'Shhh!' said Fred, half-rising from the bed. 'Listen!'
They fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.
'Mum,' said George and without further ado there was a loud crack and Harry felt the weight vanish from the end of his bed. A few seconds later, they heard the floorboard creak outside their door; Mrs Weasley was plainly listening to check whether or not they were talking.
Hedwig and Pigwidgeon hooted dolefully. The floorboard creaked again and they heard her heading upstairs to check on Fred and George.
The next thing he knew, he was curled into a warm ball under his bedclothes and George's loud voice was filling the room.
'Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa.'
Half an hour later Harry and Ron, who had dressed and break-fasted quickly, entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive green walls covered in dirty .ap-estries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was aroand these that Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.
'Fred, what are you doing?' said Mrs Weasley sharply. 'Spray that at once and throw it away!'
Harry looked round. Fred was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb.
'Right-o,' Fred said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs Weasley's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink.
'We want to experiment with Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes,' George told Harry under his breath.
Deftly spraying two Doxys at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 'What are Skiving Snackboxes?'
'Range of sweets to make you ill,' George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs Weasley's back. 'Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They're double-ended, colour-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half - '
' " - which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom." That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway,' whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs Weasley's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray Doxys from the floor and adding them to his pocket. 'But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves puking long enough to swallow the purple end.'
Testers?'
'Us,' said Fred. 'We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies - we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat - '
'Mum thought we'd been duelling,' said George.
'Joke shop still on, then?' Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.
'Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet,' said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, 'so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week.'
'All thanks to you, mate,' said George. 'But don't worry . . . Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore.'
Harry grinned. He had forced the Weasley twins to take the thousand Galleons prize money he had won in the Triwizard Tournament to help them realise their ambition to open a joke shop, but he was still glad to know that his part in furthering their plans was unknown to Mrs Weasley. She did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for two of her sons.
The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mrs Weasley finally removed her protec-tive scarf, sank into a sagging armchair and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the inten-sive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crook-shanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.
He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Harry saw George wrap his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into his already Doxy-filled pocket.
'Probably looking for a safe place to keep them,' said Harry. 'Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?'
'Yeah, you're right!' said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. 'Blimey, Mum won't like that . . .'
He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs Black's screaming had stopped.
'Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley,' Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. 'Can't hear properly . . . d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?'
'Might be worth it,' said George. 'I could sneak upstairs and get a pair - '
'I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else,' said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs Weasley's voice to permeate the room better, 'it makes such a nice change.'
The idiots are letting her get into her stride,' said George, shaking his head. 'You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry - and there goes Sirius's mum again.'
Mrs Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall.
George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.
'Hello, Kreacher,' said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.
The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.
'Kreacher did not see young master,' he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still lacing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, 'Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is.'
'Sorry?' said George. 'Didn't catch that last bit.'
'Kreacher said nothing,' said the elf, with a second box to George, adding in a clear undertone, 'and there its twin, unnataral little beasts they are.'
'Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying,' said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.
'Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher won-ders how he did it - '
'Don't we all, Kreacher,' said Fred.
'What do you want, anyway?' George asked.
Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George.
Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny all stopped talking and looked over at him. Harry nodded and tried to keep eating his chop, but his mouth had become so dry he could not chew.
Mrs Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: 'He got off, he got off, he got off . . .'
'He got off, he got off, he got off . .
'He got off, he got off, he got off . . .'
That's enough - Fred - George - Ginny!' said Mrs Weasley, as Mr Weasley left the kitchen. 'Harry, dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast.'
None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's narrow escape; Fred, George and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron had said happily, 'I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know.'
'HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF. HE GOT OFF'
'SHUT UP!' roared Mrs Weasley.
Crack.
Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn't even fall off his chair.
'We were just wondering who set the Slinkhard book,' said Fred conversationally
'Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' said George.
'And about time too,' said Fred.
'What d'you mean?' Harry asked, jumping down beside them.
Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back,' Fred told Harry, 'and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year.'
'Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?' said George.
'One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed and one locked in a trunk for nine months,' said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. 'Yeah, I see what you mean.'
'What's up with you, Ron?' asked Fred.
Ron did not answer. Harry looked round. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.
'What's the matter?' said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.
Fred's mouth fell open, too.
'Prefect?' he said, staring incredulously at the letter. 'Prefect?'
George leapt forwards, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand and turned it upside-down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm.
'No way,' said George in a hushed voice.
'There's been a mistake,' said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect.'
The twins' heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry.
'We thought you were a cert!' said Fred, in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way.
'We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!' said George indignantly.
'Winning the Triwizard and everything!' said Fred.
'I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him,' said George to Fred.
'Yeah,' said Fred slowly. 'Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right.'
He strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look.
'Prefect . . . ickle Ronnie the Prefect.'
'Ohh, Mum's going to be revolting,' groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.
'I . . .' said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. 'I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really - '
'Unexpected,' said George, nodding.
'No,' said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, 'no it's not . . . Ron's done loads of . . . he's really . . .'
'Get him red and gold to match his badge,' said George, smirking.
'Match his what?' said Mrs Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.
'His badge,' said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. 'His lovely shiny new prefect's badge.'
Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs Weasley's pre-occupation with pyjamas.
'I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!'
'What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?' said George indig-nantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.
Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.
'You've got to have a reward for this!' said Mrs Weasley fondly. 'How about a nice new set of dress robes?'
'We've already bought him some,' said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity.
She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.
Fred and George exchanged looks.
'You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?' said Fred in a falsely anxious voice.
'We could curtsey, if you like,' said George.
'Oh, shut up,' said Ron, scowling at them.
'Or what?' said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. 'Going to put us in detention?'
'I'd love to see him try' sniggered George.
'He could if you don't watch out!' said Hermione angrily.
Fred and George burst out laughing, and Ron muttered, 'Drop it, Hermione.'
'We're going to have to watch our step, George,' said Fred, pre-tending to tremble, 'with these two on our case . . .'
'Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over,' said Ceorge, shaking his head.
And with another loud crack, the twins Disapparated.
'Those two!' said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. 'Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!'
'I don't think they are,' said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. They've always said only prats become prefects . . . still,' he added on a happier note, 'they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose . . she'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great . . yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows . . .'
Harry opened his eyes and stared through his fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what. Fred had said: 'No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect . . .'
Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't, have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?
'Nah, I've caused too much trouble,' Harry said, echoing Fred.
Harry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefect's badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and lying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk.
'I thought we'd have a little party not a sit-down dinner,' she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny as they entered the room. 'Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled,' she added, beaming.
Fred rolled his eyes.
'Oh - I dunno - ' said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion; he slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.
Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harry, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer.
'It's OK,' he told Mundungus, 'we can trust Harry, he's our finan-cial backer.'
'Look what Dung's got us,' said George, holding out his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shrivelled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.
'Venomous Tentacula seeds,' said George. 'We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes but they're a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance so we've been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them.'
'Ten Galleons the lot, then, Dung?' said Fred.
'Wiv all the trouble I went to to get 'em?' said Mundungus, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. 'I'm sorry, lads, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty.'
'Dung likes his little joke,' Fred said to Harry.
'Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of Knarl quills,' said George.
'Be careful,' Harry warned them quietly.
'What?' said Fred. 'Mum's busy cooing over Prefect Ron, we're OK.'
'But Moody could have his eye on you.' Harry pointed out.
Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder.
'Good point, that,' he grunted. 'All right, lads, ten it is, if you'll take 'em quick.'
'Cheers, Harry!' said Fred delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off towards the food. 'We'd better get these upstairs . . .'
Harry watched them go, feeling slightly uneasy. It had just occurred to him that Mr and Mrs Weasley would want to know how Fred and George were financing their joke shop business when, as was inevitable, they finally found out about it. Giving the twins his Triwizard winnings had seemed a simple thing to do at the time, but what if it led to another family row and a Percy-like estrangement? Would Mrs Weasley still feel that Harry was as good as her son if she found out he had made it possible for Fred and George to start a career she thought quite unsuitable?
Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing but a guilty weight in the pit of his stomach for company, Harry caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolts deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.
Mr Weasley's body replaced Bill's, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face.
'No!' Mrs Weasley moaned. 'No . . . riddikulus! Riddikulus! RID-DIKULUS!'
Crack. Dead twins. Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Dead Harry . . .
There was a lot of commotion in the house. From what he heard as he dressed at top speed, Harry gathered that Fred and George had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the bother of carrying them, with the result that they had hurtled straight into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs into the hall; Mrs Black and Mrs Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.
' - COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS - '
Seconds later, Mr Weasley emerged on to the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage trolley when Fred, George and Ginny turned up with Lupin.
'Well,' said Fred, clapping his hands together, 'can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later,' and he and George disappeared down the corridor to the right.
The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the noticeboard. Harry waved good-night to them and headed straight for the door to the boys' dor-mitories; he was not in much of a mood for talking at the moment. Neville followed him.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold? Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs. (We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)
'They are the limit,' said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up ewer a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which was to be in October. 'We'll have to talk to them, Ron.'
Ron looked positively alarmed.
'Why?'
'Because we're prefects!' said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. 'It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!'
Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.
'Look at today!' groaned Ron. 'History of Magic, double Potions,
Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts . . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted . . ."
'Do mine ears deceive me?' said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. 'Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?'
'Look what we've got today,' said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. 'That's the worst Monday I've ever seen.'
'Fair point, little bro,' said Fred, scanning the column. 'You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.'
'Why's it cheap?' said Ron suspiciously.
'Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet,' said George, helping himself to a kipper.
'Cheers,' said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, 'but I think I'll take the lessons.'
'And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes,' said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, 'you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard.'
'Says who?' said George, looking astonished.
'Says me,' said Hermione. 'And Ron.'
'Leave me out of it,' said Ron hastily.
Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.
'You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione,' said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. 'You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long.'
'And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?' asked Hermione.
'Fifth year's OWL year,' said George.
'So?'
'So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw,' said Fred with satisfaction.
'Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs,' said George happily. Tears and tantrums . . . Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint . . .'
'Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?' said Fred remmiscently.
That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas,' said George.
'Oh yeah,' said Fred, grinning. 'I'd forgotten . . . hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?'
'Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth,' said George. 'If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow.'
'Yeah . . . you got, what was it, three OWLs each?' said Ron.
'Yep,' said Fred unconcernedly. 'But we feel our futures lie out-side the world of academic achievement.'
'We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year,' said George brightly, 'now that we've got-
He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them.
' - now that we've got our OWLs,' George said hastily. 'I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat.'
We're not going to waste our last year here, though,' said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. 'We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand.'
'But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?' Hermione asked sceptically. 'You're going to need all the ingredi-ents and materials - and premises too, I suppose . . .'
Harry did not look at the twins. His face felt hot; he deliber-ately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it. He heard Fred say overhead, 'Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology.'
Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.
'What did that mean?' said Hermione, looking from Harry to F.on. ' "Ask us no questions . . ." Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?'
'You know, I've been wondering about that,' said Ron, his brow furrowed. 'They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons . .'
'D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any . . .'
But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the centre of a knot of innocent-looking first-years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.
'No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far,' she said, standing up and looking positively furious. 'Come on, Ron.'
'I - what?' said Ron, plainly playing for time. 'No - come on, Hermione - we can't tell them offf for giving out sweets.'
'You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or - or Puking Pastilles or - '
'Fainting Fancies?' Harry suggested quietly.
One by one, as though hit over the head with an invisible mallet, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right on to the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years. Ron rose halfway out of his chair, hovered uncertainly for a moment or two, then mut-tered to Harry, 'She's got it under control,' before sinking as low in his chair as his lanky frame permitted.
That's enough!' Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.
'Yeah, you're right,' said George, nodding, 'this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?'
'I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!'
'We're paying them!' said Fred indignantly.
'I don't care, it could be dangerous!'
'Rubbish,' said Fred.
'Calm clown, Hermione, they're fine!' said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first-year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.
'Yeah, look, they're coming round now,' said George.
A few of the first-years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Harry was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.
'Feel all right?' said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.
'I - I think so,' she said shakily.
'Excellent,' said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.
'It is NOT excellent!'
'Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?' said Fred angrily.
'You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?'
'We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same - '
'If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to - '
'Put us in detention?' said Fred, in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.
'Make us write lines?' said George, smirking.
Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew her-self up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.
'No,' she said, her voice quivering with anger, 'but I will write to your mother.'
'You wouldn't,' said George, horrified, taking a step back from her.
'Oh, yes, I would,' said Hermione grimly. 'I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years,'
Fred and George looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione's threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms, and stalked back to her chair by the fire.
'I'm - I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know,' said Ron. They just went past with a bunch of first-years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there.'
'I'm not bad,' said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry's reaction. 'Charlie, Fred and George always made me keep for them when they were training during the holidays.'
'So you've been practising tonight?'
'Every evening since Tuesday . . . just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be.' Ron looked nervous and anxious. 'Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.'
'She's there,' said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.
'Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,' said Ron, looking slightly put out.
'Let her sleep,' said George hastily. It was a few moments before Harry noticed that several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakeable signs of recent nosebleeds.
Harry watched Fred, George and Lee Jordan juggling empty Butterbeer bottles for a moment.
All their teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered.
'All right, Ron?' said George, winking at him.
Yeah,' said Ron, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch.
'Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?' said Fred, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a slightly mali-cious grin on his face.
'Shut up,' said Ron, stony-faced, pulling on his own team robes for the first time. They fitted him well considering they had been Oliver Wood's, who was rather broader in the shoulder.
'OK, everyone,' said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. 'Let's get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?'
Harry reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Ron fell back towards the opposite goal. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed to Ron, who dropped it.
The Slytherins, led by Malfoy, roared and screamed with laughter. Ron, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. Harry saw Fred and George exchange looks, but unchar-acteristically neither of them said anything, for which he was grateful.
Ron threw the Quaffle to Alicia, who passed back to Harry, who passed to George . . .
George passed to Angelina; she reverse-passed to Harry, who had not been expecting it, but caught it in the very tips of his fingers and passed it quickly to Ron, who lunged for it and missed by inches.
Katie's nose was bleeding. Down below, the Slytherins were stamping their feet and jeering. Fred and George converged on Katie.
'Here, take this,' Fred told her, handing her something small anc purple from out of his pocket, 'it'll clear it up in no time.'
'All right,' called Angelina, 'Fred, George, go and get your bats and a Bludger. Ron, get up to the goalposts. Harry, release the Snitch when I say so. We're going to aim for Ron's goal, obviously.'
Harry zoomed off after the twins to fetch the Snitch.
'Ron's making a right pig's ear of things, isn't he?' muttered George, as the three of them landed at the crate containing the balls and opened it to extract one of the Bludgers and the Snitch.
'He's just nervous,' said Harry, 'he was fine when I was prac-tising with him this morning.'
'Yeah, well, I hope he hasn't peaked too soon,' said Fred gloomily.
They returned to the air. When Angelina blew her whistle, Harry released the Snitch and Fred and George let fly the Bludger. From that moment on, Harry was barely aware of what the others were doing. It was his job to recapture the tiny fluttering golden ball that was worth a hundred and fifty points to the Seeker's team and doing so required enormous speed and skill. He accelerated, rolling and swerving in and out of the Chasers, the warm autumn air whipping his face, and the distant yells of the Slytherins so much meaningless roaring in his ears . . . but too soon, the whistle brought him to a halt again.
'It's just getting worse!' said Katie thickly, attempting to stem the flow with her sleeve.
Harry glanced round at Fred, who was looking anxious and checking his pockets. He saw Fred pull out something purple, examine it for a second and then look round at Katie, evidently horror-struck.
Harry turned and saw Angelina, Fred and George all flying as fast as they could towards Katie. Harry and Alicia sped towards her, too. It was plain that Angelina had stopped training just in time; Katie was now chalk white and covered in blood.
'She needs the hospital wing,' said Angelina.
'We'll take her,' said Fred. 'She - er - might have swallowed a Blood Blisterpod by mistake - '
'Well, there's no point continuing with no Beaters and a Chaser gone,' said Angelina glumly as Fred and George zoomed off towards the castle supporting Katie between them. 'Come on, let's go and get changed.'
[Percy's Letter]
I was most pleasantly surprised when f heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the 'Fred and George' route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility.
'Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of,' said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. 'Nothing wrong with a good healthy "P".'
'But,' said Hermione, 'doesn't "P" stand for . . .'
'"Poor", yeah,' said Lee Jordan. 'Still, better than "D", isn't it? 'Dreadful"?'
'So top grade's "O" for "Outstanding",' she was saying, 'and then there's "A" - '
'No, "E",' George corrected her, '"E" for "Exceeds Expectations". And I've always thought Fred and I should've got "E" in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.'
They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, 'So, after "E" it's "A" for "Acceptable", and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?'
'Yep,' said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.
'Then you get "P" for "Poor"- ' Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration - 'and "D" for "Dreadful".
'And then "T",' George reminded her.
'"T"?' asked Hermione, looking appalled. 'Even lower than a "D"? What on earth does "T" stand for?'
'"Troll",' said George promptly.
Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking. He imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that he had received 'T's in all his OWLs and immediately resolved to work harder from now on.
'You lot had an inspected lesson yet?' Fred asked them.
'No,' said Hermione at once. 'Have you?'
'Just now, before lunch,' said George. 'Charms.'
'What was it like?' Harry and Hermione asked together.
Fred shrugged.
'Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are nor-mally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it.'
'I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down,' said George, 'he usually gets everyone through their exams all right.'
'Who've you got this afternoon?' Fred asked Harry.
Trelawney - '
'A "T" if ever I saw one.'
' - and Umbridge herself.'
'Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today,' said George. 'Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices.'
The very worst part of this second week's worth of detentions v/as, just as George had predicted, Angslina's reaction. She cor-nered him just as he arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table.
They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.
First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with (Harry's stomach did a back-flip) Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by acci-dent) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait clown her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.
'Hi,' said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his com-panions quickly, 'could we have . . . twenty-five Butterbeers, please?'
The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.
'Cheers,' said Fred, handing them out. 'Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these . . .'
Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting same kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.
'She's my auntie,' she said. 'I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So - is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?'
'Yes,' said Harry.
'Blimey, Harry!' said Lee, looking deeply impressed. 'I never knew that!'
'Mum told Ron not to spread it around,' said Fred, grinning at Harry. 'She said you got enough attention as it was.'
'Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it,' he said.
'That's not what he said,' snarled Fred.
'Would you like us to clean out you: ears for you?' enquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.
'Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this,' said Fred.
There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.
Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.
'Er . . .' said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, 'well . . . I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.'
'Well, time's ticking on,' said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. 'George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later.'
It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.
'We're going to do it anyway, of course,' he said quietly.
'Knew you'd say that,' said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.
'The prefects as well?' said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.
Harry slumped down into a chair, dragged his Potions essay reluctantly from his bag and set to work. It was very hard to con-centrate; even though he knew Sirius was not due in the fire until much later, he could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd.
First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily Vanish-ing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry's potions.
What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering and the sound of Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, Harry was finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solution. Hermione was not helping matters; the cheers and the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of Fred and George's bucket were punctuated by her loud and dis-approving sniffs, which Harry found, if anything, more distracting.
'Just go and stop them, then!' he said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time.
'I can't, they're not technically doing anything wrong,' said Hermione through gritted teeth. They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are.'
She, Harry and Ron watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause.
'You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three OWLs each,' said Harry, watching as Fred, George and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. They really know their stuff.'
'Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's of no real use to anyone,' said Hermione disparagingly.
'No real use?' said Ron in a strained voice. 'Hermione, they've made about twenty-six Galleons already.'
It was a long while before the crowd around the Weasley twins dispersed, then Fred, Lee and George sat up counting their tak-ings even longer, so it was well past midnight when Harry, Ron and Hermione finally had the common room to themselves. At long last, Fred had closed the doorway to the boys' dormitories behind him, rattling his box of Galleons ostentatiously so that Hermione scowled. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire.
'Fair point,' said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. 'Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there.'
'Fred and George told me it's blocked,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'Caved in or something.'
The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, they were soaked through within min-utes, their feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if they knew the respite was only temporary. They found Fred and George debating whether to use one of their own Skiving Snackboxes to get out of flying.
'. . . but I bet she'd know what we'd done,' Fred said out of the corner of his mouth. 'If only I hadn't offered to sell her some Puking Pastilles yesterday.'
'We could try the Fever Fudge,' George muttered, 'no one's seen that yet - '
'Does it work?' enquired Ron hopefully, as the hammering of rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building.
'Well, yeah,' said Fred, 'your temperature'll go right up.'
'But you get these massive pus-filled boils, too,' said George, 'and we haven't worked out how to get rid of them yet.'
'I can't see any boils,' said Ron, staring at the twins.
'No, well, you wouldn't,' said Fred darkly, 'they're not in a place we generally display to the public.'
'But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the - '
Angelina kept them at it for nearly an hour before conceding defeat. She led her sodden and disgruntled team back into the changing rooms, insisting that the practice had not been a waste of time, though without any real conviction in her voice. Fred and George were looking particularly annoyed; both were bandy-legged and winced with every movement. Harry could hear them com-plaining in low voices as he towelled his hair dry.
'I think a few of mine have ruptured,' said Fred in a hollow voice.
'Mine haven't,' said George, through clenched teeth, 'they're throbbing like mad . . . feel bigger if anything.'
'It's bizarre,' said Fred, frowning around at it. 'We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then.'
'Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?' suggested Fred.
'I was thinking,' said Hermione, frowning at Fred, 'more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings.'
Harry moved off into the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Harry did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking it in turns to point their wands at his back.
'Sorry Harry,' said George hastily, when Harry caught his eye. 'Couldn't resist.'
Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.
'Get a grip,' said Harry sternly. 'Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant.'
' - just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest - and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's - ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe . . . Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and - nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away - '
' - so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team - come on, Ron!'
' - and it's Warrington again,' bellowed Lee, 'who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - turns out you can't - but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell - er - drops it, too - so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!'
' - we couldn't fit in useless loser either - for his father, you know - '
Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy.
'Leave it!' said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. 'Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little -
Harry grabbed hold of George. Meanwhile, it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.
Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting towards Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible; with no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach - '
'Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!'
He could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled 'Impedimenta!' and he was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell, did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach.
'What do you think you're doing?' screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx; she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. 'I've never seen behaviour like it - back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now.''
Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to the other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the Entrance Hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps.
'In!' she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside on to the floor.
'He insulted my parents,' snarled George. 'And Harry's mother.'
'But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?' bel-lowed Professor McGonagall. 'Have you any idea what you've - ?'
'Hem, hem.'
Harry and George both wheeled round. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and was smiling in the horrible, sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to asso-ciate with imminent misery.
'So . . . I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again,' she said, looking from Harry to George and back again.
Harry felt the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand.
'Ban us?' he said, and his voice sounded strangely distant. 'From playing . . . ever again?'
'Yes, Mr Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,' said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. 'You and Mr Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too - if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall,' she continued, turning back to Professor McGonagall who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well . . . good afternoon to you.'
She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Only Harry and Hermione were left beside the fire.
'If you resign,' said Harry testily, 'there'll only be three players left on the team.' And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, 'I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George.'
'And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!' said Alicia furiously, pummelling her knee with her fist.
'It's not my fault I didn't,' said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, 'I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back.'
'Oi!' bellowed Ron, finally losing patience and sticking his head out of the window, 'I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window - OUCH!'
He withdrew his head sharply, his face covered in snow.
'It's Fred and George,' he said bitterly, slamming the window behind him. 'Gits . . .'
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads.
'Well,' said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, 'we've finally replaced you.'
'Replaced me?' said Harry blankly.
You and Fred and George,' she said impatiently. 'We've got another Seeker!'
'We're not doing anything new?' said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. 'If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come.'
'We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then,' said Fred loudly.
He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment the study door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking dishevelled and shocked, still in their night things.
'Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,' said Dumbledore, before Harry could speak. 'He has been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there.'
'How're we going?' asked Fred, looking shaken. Floo powder?'
'What's going on?' he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. Thineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured - '
'Ask Harry,' said Fred.
'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' said George.
The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.
When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was some-thing accusatory in their looks. Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the lime.
'Is Mum here?' said Fred, turning to Sirius.
'Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' said Fred, with a mulish expression. 'He's our dad!'
'And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?'
'What does that matter?' said George hotly.
'It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!' said Sirius angrily. 'Have you any idea what the Ministry would make oifthat information?'
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent.
'We don't care about the dumb Order!' shouted Fred.
'It's our dad dying we're talking about!' yelled George.
'Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!' said Sirius, equally angry. This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'
'Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellowed Fred. 'I don't see you risking your neck!'
The little colour remaining in Sirius's face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.
'I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?'
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny.
'That's right,' said Sirius encouragingly, 'come on, lets all . . . let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!'
'Fawkes!' said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. 'That's not Dumbledore s writing - it must be a message from your mother - here - '
He thrust the letter into Georges hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: 'Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.'
George looked around the table.
'Still alive . . .' he said slowly. 'But that makes it sound . . .'
He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling.
Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother and hugged her. Ron gave a very shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer in one.
Harry didn't answer; fortunately, they got out at the next stop, a station in the very heart of London, and in the bustle of leaving the train he was able to allow Fred and George to get between himself and Tonks, who was leading the way.
Fred, George and Ron stepped after them. Harry glanced around at the jostling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as those of Purge & Dowse Ltd; nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them.
Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting . . . waiting . . .
At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.
'What did he say?' asked George.
'Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up,' said Mr Weasley sadly.
'Why can't they take them off, Dad?' asked Fred.
'Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try,' said Mr Weasley cheerfully.
'So where were you when it happened, Dad?' asked George.
'When you say you were "on duty",' Fred interrupted in a low voice, 'what were you doing?'
'So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?' asked Fred, pulling his chair closer to the bed.
'Well, you already know, don't you?' said Mr Weasley, with a significant smile at Harry. 'It's very simple - I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on and bitten.'
'Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?' asked Fred, indicating the newspaper Mr Weasley had cast aside.
'You were guarding it, weren't you?' said George quietly. The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?'
'George, be quiet!' snapped Mrs Weasley.
'Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?' asked Fred, looking at his father for a reaction. 'A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?'
They trooped back into the corridor. Mad-Eye and Tonks went in and closed the door of the ward behind them. Fred raised his eyebrows.
'Fine,' he said coolly, rummaging in his pockets, 'be like that. Don't tell us anything.'
'Looking for these?' said George, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-coloured string.
'You read my mind,' said Fred, grinning. 'Let's see if St Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?'
He and George disentangled the string and separated five Extendable Ears from each other. Fred and George handed them around. Harry hesitated to take one.
'Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad's life. If anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him, it's you.'
Grinning in spite of himself, Harry took the end of the string and inserted it into his ear as the twins had done.
'OK, go!' Fred whispered.
He had just turned it upside-down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud crack, Fred and George Apparated at the foot of his bed.
'Merry Christmas,' said George. 'Don't go downstairs for a bit.'
'Why not?' said Ron.
'Mum's crying again,' said Fred heavily. 'Percy sent back his Christmas jumper.'
'Without a note,' added George. 'Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything.'
'We tried to comfort her,' said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait. Told her Percy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings.'
'Didn't work,' said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. 'So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon.'
'What's that supposed to be, anyway?' asked Fred, squinting at Dobbys painting. 'Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes.'
'It's Harry!' said George, pointing at the back of the picture, 'says so on the back!'
'Good likeness,' said Fred, grinning. Harry threw his new home-work diary at him; it hit the wall opposite and fell to the floor where it said happily: 'If you've dotted the "i"s and crossed the "t"s then you may do whatever you please!'
Sirius looked slightly disconcerted for a moment, then said, 'I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something. Of course, he might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died . . . but I mustn't get my hopes up.'
Fred, George and Ron laughed; Hermione, however, looked reproachful.
Mrs Weasley hesitated before getting inside - Harry knew her disapproval of Mundungus was battling with her dislike of travelling without magic - but, finally, the cold outside and her children's pleading triumphed, and she settled herself into the back seat between Fred and Bill with good grace.
Mrs Weasley let out an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Lupin strolled away from the bed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and was looking rather wist-fully at the crowd around Mr Weasley; Bill muttered something s.bout getting himself a cup of tea and Fred and George leapt up to accompany him, grinning.
That nights meal should have been a cheerful one, with Mr Weasley back amongst them. Harry could tell Sirius was trying to make it so, yet when his godfather was not forcing himself to laugh loudly at Fred and George's jokes or offering everyone more food, his face fell back into a moody, brooding expression.
'Looks like we'll have to split up,' said Tonks briskly, looking a.round for empty chairs. 'Fred, George and Ginny, if you just take those seats at the back . . . Remus can stay with you.'
'A way of letting me know if Snape's giving you a hard time. No, don't open it in here!' said Sirius, with a wary look at Mrs Weasley, who was trying to persuade the twins to wear hand-knitted mittens. 'I doubt Molly would approve - but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?'
But the common room was packed and full of shrieks of laughter and excitement; Fred and George were demonstrating their latest bit of joke shop merchandise.
'Headless Hats!' shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. Two Galleons each, watch Fred, now!'
Fred swept the hat on to his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid; then both hat and head vanished.
Several girls screamed, but everyone else was roaring with laughter.
'And off again!' shouted George, and Fred's hand groped for a moment in what seemed to be thin air over his shoulder; then his head reappeared as he swept the pink-feathered hat from it.
'How do those hats work, then?' said Hermione, distracted from her homework and watching Fred and George closely. 'I mean, obviously it's some kind of Invisibility Spell, but it's rather clever to have extended the field of invisibility beyond the boundaries of the charmed object . . I'd imagine the charm wouldn't have a very long life though.'
He walked across the common room, dodging George, who tried to put a Headless Hat on him, and reached the peace and cool of the stone staircase to the boys' dormitories. He was feeling sick again, just as he had the night he had had the vision of the snake, but thought that if he could just lie down for a while he would be all right.
This latest Decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.
Ron and Ginny went off for baths after dinner; Harry and Hermione returned to the busy Gryffindor common room and their usual pile of homework. Harry had been struggling with a new star-chart for Astronomy for half an hour when Fred and George turned up.
'Ron and Ginny not here?' asked Fred, looking around as he pulled up a chair, and when Harry shook his head, he said, 'Good. We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us.'
'Come on, Ginny's not bad,' said George fairly, sitting down next to Fred. 'Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us.'
'She's been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren't looking,' said Hermione from behind her tottering pile of Ancient Rune books.
'Oh,' said George, looking mildly impressed. 'Well - that'd explain it.'
'Has Ron saved a goal yet?' asked Hermione, peering over the top of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms.
'Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone's watching him,' said Fred, rolling his eyes. 'So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Qua! fie goes up his end on Saturday.'
He got up again and moved restlessly to the window, staring out across the dark grounds.
'You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for.'
Hermione cast him a stern look.
'You've got exams coming!'
'Told you already, we're not fussed about NEWTs,' said Fred. 'The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of Murtlap essence sorts them, Lee put us on to it.'
George yawned widely and looked out disconsolately at the cloudy night sky.
'I dunno if I even want to watch this match. Zacharias Smith beats us I might have to kill myself.'
'Kill him, more like,' said Fred firmly.
'That's the trouble with Quidditch,' said Hermione absent-mindedly, once again bent over her Runes translation, 'it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the houses.'
She looked up to find her copy of Spellman's Syllabary, and caught Fred, George and Harry all staring at her with expressions of mingled disgust and incredulity on their faces.
Fred and George wandered over.
'I haven't even got the heart to take the mickey out of him,' said Fred, looking over at Ron's crumpled figure. 'Mind you . . . when he missed the fourteenth - '
He made wild motions with his arms as though doing an upright dcggy-paddle.
' - well, I'll save it for parties, eh?'
Harry was a hero in the Gryffindor common room that night. Daringly, Fred and George had put an Enlargement Charm on the front cover of The Quibbler and hung it on the wall, so that Harry's giant head gazed down upon the proceedings, occasionally saying things like THE MINISTRY ARE MORONS' and 'EAT DUNG, UMBRIDGE' in a booming voice. Hermione did not find this very amusing; she said it interfered with her concentration, and she ended up going to bed early out of irritation. Harry had to admit that the poster was not quite as funny after an hour or two, especially when the talking spell had started to wear off, so that it merely shouted disconnected words like 'DUNG' and 'UMBRIDGE' at more and more frequent intervals in a progressively higher voice. In fact, it started to make his head ache and his scar began prickling uncomfortably again. To disappointed moans from the many people who were s t-ting around him, asking him to relive his interview for the umpteenth time, he announced that he too needed an early night.
When he had finished, she said nothing at all for a few moments, but stared with a kind of painful intensity at Fred and George, who were both headless and selling their magical hats from under their cloaks on the other side of the yard.
'So that's why they killed him,' she said quietly, withdrawing her gaze from Fred and George at last.
'It's good, isn't it?' said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself on to the bench between Fred and Ron. 'It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these,' she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry, 'are letters from readers.'
'This one's in two minds,' said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. 'Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment.'
Harry looked up with his hands full of envelopes. Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of Harry. Behind her he saw many of the students watching them avidly.
'Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter?' she asked slowly.
'Is that a crime now?' said Fred loudly. 'Getting mail?'
'Be careful, Mr Weasley or I shall have to put you in detention,' said Umbridge. 'Well, Mr Potter?'
In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.
'Noticed, have you?' said Fred's voice.
He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ernie in front of the hour-glasses.
'Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,' said Harry furi-ously, as they watched several more stones fly upwards from the Gryffindor hour-glass.
'Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,' said George.
'What do you mean, "tried"?' said Ron quickly.
'He never managed to get all the words out,' said Fred, 'due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.'
Hermione looked very shocked.
'But you'll get into terrible trouble!'
'Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,' said Fred coolly. 'Anyway . . . we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble any more.'
'Have you ever?' asked Hermione.
'Course we have,' said George. 'Never been expelled, have we?'
'We've always known where to draw the line,' said Fred.
We might have put a toe across it occasionally,' said George.
'But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem,' said Fred.
'But now?' said Ron tentatively.
'Well, now -' said George.
' - what with Dumbledore gone - ' said Fred.
' - we reckon a bit of mayhem - ' said George.
' - is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,' said Fred.
'You mustn't!' whispered Hermione. 'You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!'
'You don't get it, Hermione, do you?' said Fred, smiling at her. 'We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,' he checked his watch, 'phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it.'
'Anything to do with what?' said Hermione anxiously.
'You'll see,' said George. 'Run along, now.'
Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly discon-certed, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.
'I didn't do it,' said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter.
Umbridge's office, so very familiar to Harry from his many deten-tions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMISTRESS. Also, his Firebolt and Fred and George's Cleansweeps, which he saw with a pang, were chained and pad-locked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk.
Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Weasley twins.
Harry had seen enough; laughing, he ducked down low, ran to a door he knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge and Filch's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth.
'Impressive,' Harry said quietly, grinning. 'Very impressive . . . you'll put Dr Filibuster out of business, no problem . . .'
'Cheers,' whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. 'Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next . . . they multiply by ten every time you try.'
Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd to congratulate them.
They were wonderful fireworks,' she said admiringly.
Thanks,' said George, looking both surprised and pleased. 'Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock; we're going to have to start again from scratch now.'
'It was worth it, though,' said Fred, who was taking orders from clamouring Gryffindors. 'If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe . . .'
Yes, he had once overheard Professor McGonagall saying that his father and Sirius had been troublemakers at school, but she had described them as forerunners of the Weasley twins, and Harry could not imagine Fred and George dangling someone upside-down for the fun of it . . . not unless they really loathed them . . . perhaps Malfoy or somebody who really deserved it .
'Come on,' said Harry dully. 'With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?'
The thing about growing up with Fred and George,' said Ginny thoughtfully, 'is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.'
'Hey,' said a voice in Harry's ear. He looked round; Fred and George had come to join them. 'Ginny's had a word with us about you,' said Fred, stretching out his legs on the table in front of them and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor. 'She says you need to talk to Sirius?'
'What?' said Hermione sharply, freezing with her hand halfway towards picking up 'MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES'.
'Yeah . . .' said Harry, trying to sound casual, 'yeah, I thought I'd like - '
'Don't be so ridiculous,' said Hermione, straightening up and looking at him as though she could not believe her eyes. 'With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?'
'Well, we think we can find a way around that,' said George, stretching and smiling. 'It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?'
'What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?' continued Fred. 'No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's revision, too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do.'
He gave Hermione a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness.
'But it's business as usual from tomorrow,' Fred continued briskly. 'And if we're going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?'
'I dunno,' said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. 'If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?'
'Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,' said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. 'Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact ii every-body's in the corridors - Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office - I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?' he said, looking at George.
'Easy,' said George.
'What sort of diversion is it?' asked Ron.
'You'll see, little bro', said Fred, as he and George got up again. 'At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow.'
He could just imagine Professor McGonagall's reaction if he was caught trespassing in Professor Umbridge's office mere hours after she had vouched for him . . . there was nothing to stop him simply going back to Gryffindor Tower and hoping that some time during the next summer holidays he would have a chance to ask Sirius about the scene he had witnessed in the Pensieve . . . nothing, except that the thought of taking this sensible course of action made him feel as though a lead weight had dropped into his stomach . . . and then there was the matter of Fred and George, whose diversion was already planned, not to mention the knife Sirius had given him, which was currently residing in his schoolbag along with his father's old Invisibility Cloak.
They exchanged a look of great surprise, but Harry did not have time to feel awkward or embarrassed; his knees were becoming sorer by the second and he guessed five minutes had already passed from the start of the diversion; George had only guaranteed him twenty. He therefore plunged immediately into the story of what he had seen in the Pensieve.
Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down at Fred and George who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered.
'So!' said Umbridge triumphantly. Harry realised she was standing just a few stairs in front of him, once more looking down upon her prey. 'So - you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?'
'Pretty amusing, yeah,' said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.
'Very good, Argus,' she said. 'You two,' she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, 'are about to learn what happens to wrong-doers in my school.'
'You know what?' said Fred. 'I don't think we are.'
He turned to his twin.
'George,' said Fred, 'I think we've outgrown full-time education.'
'Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself,' said George lightly.
Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?' asked Fred.
'Definitely,' said George.
And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together:
'Accio brooms!'
Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left, he ducked just in time. Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.
'We won't be seeing you,' Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.
'Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch,' said George, mounting his own.
Fred looked around at the assembled students, at the silent, watchful crowd.
'It anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasley' Wizarding Wheezes,' he said in a loud voice. 'Our new premises!'
'Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,' added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.
'STOP THEM!' shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.
'Give her hell from us, Peeves.'
And Peeves, who Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.
The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, 'Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place,' or else, 'One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley.'
Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.
Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.
Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of stu-dents were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody man-aged to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so fre-quently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for stu-dents to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.
Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assem-bled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridge - 'itis'. Alter putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.
But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious care-taker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.
None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and Georges departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, 'It unscrews the other way.'
'It'll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,' said Ron darkly. 'She'll say I should've stopped them leaving, I should've grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something . . . yeah, it'll be all my fault.'
'Well, if she does say that it'll be very unfair, you couldn't have done anything! But I'm sure she won't, I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley, they must have been plan-ning this for ages.'
'Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?' said Ron, hitting his teacup so hard with his wand that its legs col-lapsed again and it lay twitching before him. 'It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley. She'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold.'
'Well, yes, that occurred to me, too,' said Hermione, allowing her teacup to jog in neat little circles around Harry's, whose stubby little legs were still unable to touch the desktop, 'I've been won-dering whether Mundungus has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful.'
'He hasn't,' said Harry curtly.
'How do you know?' said Ron and Hermione together.
'Because - ' Harry hesitated, but the moment to confess finally seemed to have come. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Fred and George were criminals. 'Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June.'
There was a shocked silence, then Hermione's teacup jogged right over the edge of the desk and smashed on the floor.
'Oh, Harry, you didn't!' she said.
'Yes, I did,' said Harry mutinously. 'And I don't regret it, either. I didn't need the gold and they'll be great at running a joke shop.'
'It's no good nagging me, it's done,' he said firmly. 'Fred and George have got the gold - spent a good bit of it, too, by the sounds of it - and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. So save your breath, Hermione.'
'I wasn't going to say anything about Fred and George!' she said in an injured voice.
Harry's heart sank. Once they had exhausted the subject of Fred and George's dramatic departure, which admittedly had taken many hours, Ron and Hermione had wanted to hear news of Sirius.
'You know,' said Hermione, as she and Harry walked down to the pitch a little later in the midst of a very excitable crowd, 'I think Ron might do better without Fred and George around. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence.'
Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto.
'Oh, blimey,' said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. 'It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window.'
'Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor," said Ginny promptly, 'and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garrotting Gas.' Hermione looked surprised at the readiness with which Ginny had come up with this lie; Ginny shrugged and said, 'Fred and George were planning to do it before they left.'
'Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!' said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.
'Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp,' said Ginny, 'he did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off - '
'Why?' said Hermione, looking startled.
'Oh, he just says it was a really good bit of magic,' said Ginny, shrugging.
'I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George,' said Ron, through a mouthful of chocolate. They sent me all these, you know,' he told Harry, pointing at the small mountain of Frogs beside him. 'Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?'
At the front of the group stood Mr and Mrs Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.
'Fine,' lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins' new clothes.
'What are they supposed to be?' he asked, pointing at the jackets.
'Finest dragonskin, little bro',' said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. 'Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves.'