𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 || 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

↠𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈↞

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𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
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    "𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓'𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 this time around?" asked Fred as he crouched over the top step of the Gryffindor tower's staircase, sprinkling the contents of a potion across the stairs.

    Meanwhile, George, who had finished working the bottom steps, clapped his hands together in a concluding manner, then quickly rushed up the stairs two at a time and stood admiring his handiwork.

    "Definitely. Better hurry back up, though, it should be entirely absorbed in seconds."

    George crouched near the edge of the landing, his finger inches away from the floor, ready to test its surface, when a hiss sounded right behind him. Startled, he turned around to find Mrs Norris staring back at him, her incriminating glare upon the two of them. Another hiss had Fred and George exchanging looks of panic, their survival instincts set into motion; they both scattered away, darting in no particular direction, but no sooner than their feet made contact with the edge of the staircase, they were sent tumbling down the remaining steps, fooled by their own contraption.

    George moaned at the pain in his back, clutching at his twisted ankle, and saw that Fred was holding his arm in pain, too.

    "Yeah," said Fred with a groan, nevertheless an amused smile on his face, "I think it worked."

    Hurried footsteps followed Mrs Norris's hisses and soon Filch was rounding the corner, giddily rushing towards them. A look of pure delight flashed across his face at the sight of them, only to be replaced with one of disappointment a moment later; the wretched old git knew that Fred and George were in no condition to be sent off to detention, and he had no other choice but to escort them to the Hospital Wing, moaning and complaining all the while.

    Now, the hospital wing was nothing that George had expected. The place had never been this crowded before, and upon a second glance, George could see that... they were all girls. The whole place was loaded with girls. It looked like something out of a book on the Black Plague, but targeting only witches. Each and every one of them suffered the same unfortunate set of boils on their faces. He had to admit that it was a rather disgusting sight; some were the size of a snitch, filled with pus and threatening to pop at any second.

    Fred, George and Filch stood at the entrance, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to come out of whatever corner she was buried in. They watched her dashing from one bed to another and in and out of the storage room to retrieve her healing potions and ointments.

    "Well, how can I help you?" she asked breathlessly as soon as she had a moment of break.

    "These two have fallen off the stairs, I think they've got some broken bones," explained Filch, not a shred of sympathy in his voice. "That could have very well been me if it weren't for my sweet Mrs Norris."

    "Let me see that arm of yours, Mr Weasley." Madam Pomfrey began to cast some sort of spell on Fred's arm, humming along as she did so. "Hmm yes, that is indeed a broken arm. What about you?"

    "I think I broke my ankle, it's throbbing." George winced at the pain when he accidentally put weight on it. Madam Pomfrey led them towards the remaining empty bed after escorting Filch out of the room. "Seems like you're the only lads in here. Been a busy week, it just suddenly started raining girls."