broken satire - f.weasley

3/ Shaka

"Fred, look what you've done!"

George Weasley threw his hands to his head in utter amazement. He was staring at their first completely successful trick wand. It had taken a course of five months before Fred had run up to their bedroom, giving George a slight scare as he bounced onto the bed, holding what looked like a normal wooden wand. This was not the case, however; this wand, when flicked around as if performing a spell, turned into a floppy rubber chicken. George had been at a complete loss of words after witnessing the stupendous work his brother had done.

"Wicked, man. That's incredible," George congratulated. Fred grinned and puffed out his chest gallantly.

"All in a day's work, my good brother, all in a day's work," the ginger-headed boy smirked as he threw the rubber chicken into a box labelled "Perfected Products", and shoved it under his bed. He looked back up at his bright-eyed twin, who was standing with a mischievous grin that told Fred exactly what the other was thinking.

"As long as mum doesn't get a hold of one," Fred warned, waving a finger at George. George grinned even wider.

"Oh, no need to worry about that, I don't think. At about four o'clock, mum'll be off with her "lady friends" to go shopping and have dinner. We'll have all the opportunities we could possibly dream of."

-------

"In postition, now. Get ready, you've got the bait out, right?"

"George, what bait?"

"The wand! The wand is the bait, you bloody moron!"

"Of course I've put the damn wand out! Why the hell wouldn't I have?"

"Right right, sorry mate. Okay, here he comes."

Bill Weasley had come downstairs from being chambered up in his room for a good few hours after Molly had left. Important work business, no doubt. With a small glass of firewhisky on mind to keep himself attentive, Bill made his way towards the kitchen. He had reached into the cupboard when George walked in, on cue.

"Hey, Bill, could you hand me my wand over next to you?"

Bill looked to the right of him to see a wand lying on the countertop. He grinned.

"Yeah, no problem, Fred."

"George."

"Right, George, sorry," Bill set the glass he retrieved from the cabinet on the counter and slowly picked up the wand, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As he raised it up, he pointed it at George;

"Avifors!"

and instead of turning George into a bird, the wand nearly transformed to the same rubber chicken it had earlier, which flopped about in Bill's hand. Bill stared at the foreign object which had replaced the wand dumbstruck - his mouth hung open slightly and his face contorted to a look of confusion.

"What the bloody hell have you two done?" Bill yelled, a trace of a smile now showing. Fred had popped into the kitchen from around the corner, sporting the same large ear-to-ear simper as George.

"You like it?"

"Think it's alright?"

"Does it seem to have any sign of changing into something else?"

Bill kept looking from the toy to the twins.

"One, yes, it's brilliant. Two, it's really incredible. I'm actually amazed at you two for once. And three, no, I don't think so."

George sighed, "Damn."

"I'm still very impressed at this. This is, it's a whole feat in itself, let alone being made by you two. -Which, of course, is monumental. All I have to say on this is, don't let mum find out about these or she'll have you in for it." Bill handed the chicken to Fred, who immediately stuffed it in his pants as he heard the front door open. Bill looked the boys sternly in the eyes, "You better get that to your room, now."

And the boys didn't need to be told twice as they bolted upstairs, ushering a rushed "Hi, mum" on the way up. Molly watched after them as they kept going up out of sight, shaking her head as she made her way to the kitchen.

"They're up to something, aren't they, Bill. I've told you, time and time again, you need to take more responsibility when you're here as the oldest, and not encourage them to keep being so childish!"

"Well, hello again to you too," Bill nodded, taking a sip of whiskey. Molly glared at her eldest son.

"And what are you doing? Drinking this late at night! I raised you to be sensible, not foolish! It's this kind of behaviour that rubs off on those boys and you know it!" Molly scolded as Bill calmly drank.

"Very sorry, mother. But you still love me," Bill smiled brightly at his mother. Molly smiled back.

"Of course. I
love
all of you."

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{did this instead of my global debate research. you're welcome ;-)