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

Chapter 14:5

Angelina was the first to notice. "Are you expecting mail, Lee?" she asked, admiring the owl's immaculate feathers. "Seems like one of your lot."

"No, I'm afraid," he said miserably, turning to face the beautiful tawny owl as it approached the twins with a note half covered in marmalade.

"Can't be ours. You've all seen Errol," George suggested, attempting to pry the envelope from its beak.

Fred traded the letter for a jam tart and the owl complied. The letter was, in fact, addressed to them. He tore back the top flap and pulled out the letter. It was written in simple handwriting and had been sent from Zonko's Joke Shop.

Fred and George,

I gathered the ingredients you requested. I'll leave them in the ice box at the back of the store. They are perishable, so don't wait long. The key is still under the mat, as always. Thank you again for the help. You are welcome anytime. Oh, and Christmas is around the corner. Send a return owl with your home address, will you? I came across something that you're sure to appreciate!

Zonko Goosefeather

"Anything interesting?" asked Lee.

"From our father," George fibbed.

Fred nodded in agreement as he pocketed the letter. "Yes, he's on us again. Some drivel about raiding our Auntie Muriel's wig collection."

"It's becoming an epidemic, it seems."

Hiding a look of disappointment, Lee tried to crack a grin as he pet Zonko's owl. The twins hadn't heard much about Lee's home life, but they knew one thing for certain — he was not expecting a letter from his father, who was known to spend endless hours at the Ministry of Magic.

Noticing the disappointment on their friend's face, George nudged his twin and said, "Honest-Lee, letters from home are a nuisance."

Fred had no trouble joining in. "Thankful-Lee, we have an entire month before the Christmas holiday. Which means more Quidditch, and more time with our fine associates."

"Artful-Lee spoken, brother."

"Apparent-Lee, I'm gifted."

When a stubborn smile finally broke on Lee Jordan's face, the twins knew they had turned the mood. And they weren't the only Gryffindors sharing a laugh. Halfway down the house table, Percy and Wood were going on about how spectacular Flint would look in a wig.

Percy donned his wizard's cap, tilting it slightly over his swollen forehead. "Marcus...would you be a dear and please return my curlers?"

"Certainly, Grandfather," said Wood loftily, handing Percy the two halves of his sandwich. "Might I bother you for that mother-of-pearl hairbrush you've been just mad about?"

"But of course," Percy replied, passing him Scabbers, the family rat.

Angelina was grinning broadly. "Isn't that extraordinary? I hope those Toilers of Trouble, whomever they are, keep getting back at the students who pick on Percy."

"I really doubt that's their mission, Angelina," said Fred, suddenly questioning his motives.

"Rescuing our brother from Percy-cution is low on their list of priorities, I assure you," George agreed, with disdain in his voice.

She got up from her seat, books in hand, and moved a few spots down the table to join the other Gryffindor girls. "I just think it's good that he isn't the one getting picked on for a change."