"Didn't know you was into gingers, Malfoy?"
"Shut up Weasley"
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Gemma Weasley shared many similarities with her siblings, the ginger hair, pale skin, freckles and a super sense of humour, yet she was the one that stood out from them all. Even her tw...
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The second we stepped inside the shop, it was like someone had lit a firework inside my chest.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was alive. And not just "oh, how nice, a shop" alive - I mean pandemonium. A boy clutched a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees in one hand as his mum dragged him through the crowd, eyes wide like he'd just seen Merlin himself.
It was packed wall-to-wall, people stuffed in like Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans in a jar - wriggling, shouting, laughing. It was chaos. Our chaos.
Ever-Bashing Boomerangs whizzed over our heads. A display of Dr. Filibuster's Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks let out a thunderous crack, making Hermione duck and Ron grin like a proud lunatic. Nose-Biting Teacups snapped their dainty porcelain teeth at unsuspecting fingers. It was everything Fred and George ever dreamed of - and then some.
And there they were.
My brothers.
Standing on a counter in full magenta suits - because subtlety was so last year - yelling over the din like circus ringmasters.
"Step up! Step up!" Fred called.
"We've got Fainting Fancy..." George began.
"Nosebleed Nougats..." Fred followed.
"And just in time for school..."
"Puking Pastilles!" they chorused like a pair of lunatics in perfect sync.
A boy mid-bite of something turned green. Genuinely. A sickly, pale, minty shade of green that even made me queasy, and I've seen Ron eat Hagrid's rock cakes without flinching.
"In the cauldron, handsome!" Fred and George shouted, launching a sloshing cauldron down the counter with the tips of their toes. Showoffs.
Then they dropped down beside Harry, one on each side, all fluid motion and flashy grins.
"What'd you think, Harry?" Fred asked, still steering. Harry had given his prize money from the Goblet of Fire to Fred and George, without Harry, there would be no shop.
George turned to a boy fiddling with a Screaming Yo-Yo. "Pocket that and you'll pay in more than Galleons, my friend."
"We've got eyes in the back of our heads," Fred added.
The boy blinked. Then they turned, and I howled - there, stuck to the backs of their heads, were two oversized fake eyes. They blinked. They winked. The boy legged it.
"Bloody urchins," George muttered, straightening his collar like a gentleman who hadn't just terrified a child with novelty eyeballs.
I moved closer, trailing my fingers along the display shelves, taking it all in. I couldn't stop grinning. My brothers had done it. They'd turned jokes into business. Laughter into a living. And the pride swelled in my chest like a balloon threatening to pop.
