Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 9:3

With the aid of Professor Kettleburn and Hagrid, Professor McGonagall made a special request for a crate of dangerous creatures to be delivered to the school in an effort to teach same-species conversion to the combined group of first years. Ordinarily, there was no reason to venture onto the grounds for Transfiguration, but McGonagall informed the students that the magic of daily life would take them beyond the comfortable confines of Hogwarts. And as she led them gracefully into the corridor, it was her hope that the caged beasts were stowed securely in the courtyard and that the lesson would go on without delay.

When the class entered the moving stairwell of the portrait hall, the twins managed to weave their way through the line of students, relatively undetected. Fred was busy pocketing the invisibility cloak when Lee Jordan made their presence known.

"There you are," Lee bellowed, his voice echoing down the line. "I was beginning to think you'd been banished."

"Nope. Still here," said Fred, covering the lump in his robe. "All in one piece."

"Two pieces," corrected George.

"I'm glad you are. I've been losing my mind over tryouts yesterday. Have you heard anything from your brother? D'you think I could make the team? I'm much better on the broom than any other first year Gryffindor. Especially you lot. And I know everything there is to know about Quidditch," their short friend gloated, as the class turned a corner.

Angelina faced him with a look of skepticism. "To be honest, Lee...I don't think you will. Nothing against you personally, they just hardly ever allow first years on the house teams."

"I know. I wish I was in Hufflepuff," he groaned miserably. "I mean, not really, but they have loads of spots open. Their entire team was made up of seventh years, apart from Nymphadora Tonks...she's in Charlie's year. They have no choice, the Hufflepuffs. They have to allow at least a couple first years to play."

"You know — Fred and I aren't as bad on a broom as you might think," George claimed with a shrewd sideways glance.

"Right!" said Angelina brazenly. "I was one of the students you nearly slaughtered on your uncontrolled death flight last week, if you don't recall."

"That's because we were pretending. Fred and I are broomstick prodigies...didn't you know? Ask Cedric," said George. Behind them, Tenice Montague was having a laugh with fellow Slytherin, Oscar Meaney. "We kept it a secret to avoid getting detentions in the first week."

"I think you failed at that plan, mate," Lee snickered. "I've known the broom since I was a child. Got private lessons from the Captain of the Gimbi Slayers."

"Don't you mean the Gimbi Giant-Slayers?" Benjamin Nettles clarified.

"Father leaves off the 'giant' bit. Says they changed their name to sell more tickets. Which worked, if you ask me. We've got one of their old uniforms in our trophy room. It's ancient. Still carries their old crest of a shield and wand."

"Listen here, Weasley...sweeping your neighbor's drive for a bronze Knut doesn't make you a broomstick prodigy," Montague insulted deftly, getting a rise out of Fred.

"A little slow on the draw there, old bean," Fred chided. "And you wouldn't last fifteen minutes on the Quidditch pitch against a Weasley, Tenice. What kind of foolish name is that, anyhow?"

"I'll have you know...it was my thrice great grandfather's name. He was the Minister of Magic when your lot was digging in rubbish bins for supper," Montague countered to the amusement of his housemates.

"Not that life has changed much since..." said Meaney under his breath.

Fred and George spun round and faced Montague and his Slytherin cohorts. But before a word could be uttered, the row of students slammed to a stop and they bumped into one another down the slope of the staircase.