MISCHIEF MANAGED// FRED WEASLEY X READER

007. Weatherby

Fred's Disclaimer: The author of this book does not own Harry Potter, but she does own the fact that Percy is an underrated character who deserves less hate. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Crouch," Percy said, doing a weird half bow. He sunk back down onto the bench, his face a picture of utmost respect. "Would you like a cup of tea?" 

Mr. Crouch looked as if he hadn't noticed Percy. "Oh—yes. Thank you, Weatherby." 

Fred and George, who had both just taken sips of water, choked into their mugs. 

"Weatherby?" Fred wheezed snickering into my ear. 

Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here..." 

The three droned on for a long while about various issues. Fred, all the while still laughing quietly to himself about 'Weatherby'. I personally didn't find it that funny; the fact that Mr. Crouch can't take the two seconds to learn his own employee's name. 

I mean, how hard is it to remember 'Weasley'?

"See you all later!" Mr. Bagman said as their conversation came to a close. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

I must have missed that part. 

"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred, rolling his eyes. 

The afternoon wore on, daylight turning into dusk. There was a sense of palpable excitement in the air, and the quiet droning of conversation faltered. Darkness spread over the campsite, delving us further into anticipation for the coming events. 

Salesmen were apparating everywhere, their arms ladled with trays of magical merchandise. There were rosettes—green for Ireland and red for Bulgaria, that squeaked the players' names. 

"Been saving all my allowance for this," Ron commented, pulling out a small bag of change to flip around. It slipped from his fingertips, nearly spilling its contents all over the ground but Fred managed to catch it in the palm of his left hand. Ron blushed scarlet. "Thanks." 

"Careful, dumbass," Was Fred's response. 

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials. I pulled my own money bag out of my back pocket. 

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly, trying to shove them at us. "You can replay action ... slow everything down ... and they flash up a play-by- play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Three pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard. "Er—Y/N, d'you want one?" 

"I got it," I said, handing ten galleons to the sales wizard. Fred shifted his weight anxiously, pulling a few galleons out of his pocket. Since George had gambled all his money away, he'd stayed behind at the tent. Fred however, still had money left, though looked quite torn about the whole situation. "Fred, you want one?" 

"You don't have to—" for the first time the entire day, Fred didn't finish his sentence. "Er—" 

"Yeah, don't worry," I said, handing ten more galleons over. "You owe me, though." 

"Oh no, I could never be in your debt," Fred winked, taking the pair of Omnioculars. "But, thanks." 

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry was telling Ron as he handed the Omnioculars to him and Hermione. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"

We walked back to the tent, money bags considerably lighter. George eyed Fred's Omnioculars with a hint of longing. Ginny, Bill and Charlie all had green rosettes and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. 

"Shouldn't have gambled away all your money, eh George?" Fred asked, waving his prize around. 

"Oh, shut up," George. Fred, who'd failed to mention that I was the one who bought the Omnioculars, laughed. 

"I'll let you borrow them," Fred said. "For a price of course." 

"Yeah? And what might that be?" questioned George with a skeptical expression. 

"Don't use what I told you against me," Fred said with a knowing glance. 

George scowled. "But it was such good leverage—" 

He got cut off as a booming sound like a gong echoed from beyond the woods. At once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"