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

Chapter 13:2

The family owl perched on Fred's arm as George untied the envelope from his wing. A moment later, Errol flapped away through an open window frame in the tower wall and sailed clumsily out of sight.

George opened the letter. It read:

My boys,

Congratulations on making the house team! Your father and I are so proud. He's been telling everyone at the Ministry. And Ronald couldn't be more pleased. He hasn't stopped talking about it. Bill is not yet aware that you have taken over his vacancy. Send him an owl before Christmas break, will you? And while you're at it, send us one as well. Charlie is too busy with who-knows-what, and all Ginny and I ever hear from Hogwarts is how many points Percy has earned toward the Inter-House Championship, and what marks we should be expecting, attached to a duplicate copy of his Daily Prophet article from last term. The house has never been so quiet. I'm not sure if I like that. I do miss you very much, and I'm sorry for always being impatient with you both. You are just so maddening at times! There I go again. Doubly sorry, dears. Listen to your professors and please be safe on the Quidditch field. Do stay out of trouble, Fred. I love you dearly, George. The Burrow awaits you at term's end. Won't be long now.

Mum

"Wonderful woman, that Molly Weasley," exhaled Fred, hiding his moist eyes as he re-folded the letter.

"Always liked her," George agreed with a hesitant smile.

With all their goings-on during the first two months at Hogwarts, and with two of their brothers attending the same school, the twins had been spared the typical unhappiness that most first years experienced by being separated from family. They were only eleven years old and this was the first time they had ever been away from home. A heartwarming letter from their mom was difficult to ignore, but the hour before Potions was coming to a close and they wouldn't dare miss the conclusion of their prank.

"On to the dungeons?" said one twin with a faint sniff.

"After you," said the other.

The boys found Angelina and Lee in the corridor beside the stairwell to the dungeons practicing their Charms work. With the colossal book held open to a moving illustration of a witch in a long robe performing a spell, they were pointing their wands dangerously to the side of their heads, which violated the first lesson every child growing up in the wizarding world learned when it came to magic wands.

"Do yourself a favor and point that thing somewhere less —"

"Explosive?" Fred suggested.

George looked satisfied with the remark. "I was going to say somewhere less essential, but I do suppose all factors should be considered."

Neither of their friends turned to face them. More students passed into the dungeons without Lee and Angelina bothering to comment.

"They've gone and done it, George. Go gather up their brains," he said dismally. "I'll fetch a funnel."

When Angelina eventually noticed the twins, she yelled needlessly, "How long have you two been standing there?!"

"Pipe down, will you?"

"What?! Oh, right!" she shouted, pointing her wand firmly to her left ear. "Expovious!"

She tapped Lee on the shoulder and he waved to the twins.

"Expovious!" he attempted.

"Sorry about that. Mutamoriam Pox," Angelina noted, pointing to the depiction in her book. "Flitwick just taught it to the class. It's a charm to silence your hearing. They used it in Dark Force Defense League once. Issue one hundred and — er — somewhere around eighty."

"I can't get mine to switch back on!" Lee hollered, boxing his ears.

"This one has to have a faulty wand. He backfires the simplest charms."

Lee gave her a withering look. "What did you just tell them?!"

"Expovious!" Angelina declared, flourishing her wand and pointing it directly at his temple. "I told them you're rubbish at Charms."

Their short friend shrugged. "I got the first part right, didn't I?"

"So you think permanent hearing loss is the purpose of the charm?"

The twins watched them bicker in earnest, quite jealous of the fact that the most interesting magic was being taught in a class they were not allowed to attend.

"Should we crack on?" asked George impatiently. "Snape would love to lock us out."

"And take away house points before we face Slytherin," Fred finished.

Halfway down the slick dungeon steps, George took hold of Angelina's book and flipped to the illustration for Mutamoriam Pox.

"Pardon me!" she said with disdain, seizing it back from him. "George Weasley, you are the rudest boy I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

After a moment's thought, he smirked and replied, "You're pardoned."

"I never...!" Angelina spat.

"Neither have I!" George answered back.

Fred coughed loudly into his fist to silence them. "One of you Flitwick students will be teaching us how to work that charm, I promise you."

"Well, I can't be the one," Lee noted. "Not a bad trick to learn, honestly. It's loud out there on the pitch. Beaters are forbidden to use a wand during official Quidditch matches, but the rules are less rigid for school teams. I've been reading up on the subject all morning."

"Is that right?" asked Fred slyly. "Anything else we can exploit?'

"I'm certain there is," he answered. "Although I stuck mostly to procedures and score-keeping policies."

"Tell me Quidditch is more fun than that!" said Angelina mournfully.

"Afraid not. It mostly consists of clipboards, quills, and binoculars," George lied, leading the group down the dank, torch-lit hallway toward the classroom.

"Actually, it's tremendous fun," Fred corrected. "Why a super-fan like Lee is suddenly more interested in the mundane elements of the game, is beyond me. If the match against Slytherin is anything like what we've heard Bill and Charlie describe back at home, it'll be the stuff of legend."

"Then Lee and I should leave early to find the best seats," said Angelina.

Lee grinned a little and said, "As luck would have it, I won't be able to join you."

"You're joking," George said, amazed. "The first Quidditch match at Hogwarts...? Your mates on the team and everything...? Thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

"What've you got to do? Powder your nose for an hour?"

"I have prior commitments, I'm afraid. Arranged by Professor McGonagall."