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

Chapter 16:5

"Under different circumstances, I'd say it was lovely out here," Angelina expressed, as she admired the shimmering canopy of frosty branches that sheltered the Forbidden Forest. "But, to my deepest dismay, I'm here with the most unreasonable boy at Hogwarts."

"And what a delightful holiday it is for me," George rebounded, lifting the empty bucket to block his face from the biting wind that pelted them in gusts. "Last place I want to be is with you in this dreadful forest. With luck, I'll be eaten by some horrid beast before you start prattling on about how they collect snow in issue twelve of Dark Force Defense League or something."

"I will be sure to help grant your wish if we're both at risk."

"It's too windy out here. I'm moving deeper into the forest," said George bluntly, as he lowered his bucket and shoved past her.

"Excuse me! Manners..." Angelina griped. "And I'd rather not put myself directly into the path of danger, thanks."

"Suit yourself, but you'll be out here all night. More branches this way."

After a long minute of endless quiet, Angelina followed after him. The snow was settling on the branches further into the forest, where the wind struggled to reach, and George had found a cluster of short trees. She marched to the furthest tree and started filling her bucket from the branches that were smattered with snow.

"You and Fred were chatting a great deal before he left," Angelina pried, as downy snowflakes trickled to their robes. "What was so important, I wonder?"

George swiveled toward her, shivering through his response. "That's none of your business."

"Oh, just like that parchment I caught you inspecting outside Hagrid's cabin?" she asked with a purr. "And don't think your absence went unnoticed this afternoon when the rest of us were watching Professor Parsimonae arrive to the castle. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you two were disappointed that he's come to expose the Toilers of Trouble."

"Haven't you learned by now, dear girl?" he began, dramatically. "I care not a pittance what you think."

Angelina smirked. "Well, I hope he does find them. They need to be punished...and expelled."

"What for? You think they were responsible for destroying the paintings?"

"They said as much in their letter," she replied, raking the feathery snow into one of her buckets. "And look how they disrespected our headmaster. He's the most powerful wizard of the age. Every student here adores the man, and they're trying to hurt him intentionally. Not to mention the paintings. They belong to Albus Dumbledore as much as they do the school. The artwork here is stunning and alive...these vandals are practically murdering them."

"Then let's hope Dumbledore gives the Toilers of Trouble a stay of execution for their rampant murdering." George rolled his eyes. "If you had taken Enchantments, you'd know that portraits don't have life."

"Why would I take Enchantments? Why would anyone, for that matter?" she said ruthlessly, trudging through a snowdrift.

In shamed silence, George gazed down at her footprints. "Would Sprout really know the difference if we just scooped it from the ground?"

"Yes! Of course, she would," Angelina answered in bewilderment. "Do you not know anything? The second snowfall is enchanted! It was in the reading." She dropped her bucket and threw her head back. "What I wouldn't give to be serving detention with your brother."

"As if you'd even notice the difference," George said icily. "Fred and I are twins. You know what that means, don't you?"

"I'd notice," she said smugly.

"Hardly," he chuckled. "Our mother can't even tell us apart."

"Well, there has to be some difference between you, hasn't there?"

"We are identical," he said proudly, lifting his half-empty bucket to the next tree. "Down to the...last freckle..."

George hesitated before scraping the snow from the branch. The tree he'd chosen was different than all the others. It glittered like ice, with crisp, black bristles that wrapped along thin, spindly branches.

"All right, professor-in-training...if you know so much about Herbology, tell me what sort of tree this is," George pressed, goading her further.

Angelina lifted her buckets and stomped over to him, but her irritated expression shifted when she looked closely at the bristles. "That can't be a —"

Too curious to stop himself, George reached out to pluck a sample for further inspection.

"No! Don't!!"

It was too late. The moment he snapped one of the frosted bristles free, the tree branch moved abruptly from his hand.

"What'd I do? I didn't do anything!"

"That's not a branch! It's...it's..." Angelina faltered, trembling all over.

George's heart gave a great leap as they tilted their heads up to see eight glossy, black eyes peering down at them, above a furry, fanged mouth that dripped with steaming saliva. A burst of hot, foggy breath hit their faces as it rumbled venomously. What George had assumed to be snow covered branches, were actually the legs of a creature that soon extended beyond one of the trees until it was standing ominously over them.

"SPIDER!!!" they screamed, taking off at a run.

George and Angelina zigzagged through the thickening snow, as the massive spider climbed out from its shelter of fallen trees and advanced on them.

"What're yeh doin' back so soon?" Hagrid called moments later, as they sped right past him and across the snowy grounds. "Was that you hollerin' out? Oy, where're the buckets?!"

"Hagrid! Run!" George woofed.

The large gamekeeper squinted inquisitively at the forest and reached for the crossbow that was hooked to his worn leather waistband. He struggled to fit an arrow into the catch, but lost it in the snowdrift at his feet.

"It's — spider —" Angelina attempted. "A great — big — tall as you!"

"Oh...er...yeh'll be a'right," he yelled evenly, as they raced up the hill. "It's harmless. Swear!" The immense, ice-covered spider crunched to a stop at the edge of the lawn and hissed at the students. "Come back! Yeh aren' dun with yer punishment!"

George and Angelina were too busy sprinting toward the safety of the castle to reply.

"S' okay, I'll finish up! Jus'...don' tell anyone 'bout what yeh seen. Tha' goes double fer Kettleburn!" Hagrid huffed and leaned his crossbow against the wooden front door. "Shoulda known. Go on, you. Back ter the forest. What yeh doin' scarin' 'em anyhow? They're only firs' years."

"Apologies, Hagrid," the creature said in a low rumble, before it crept back into the gloom.

"An' if yeh see Fang —"

Hagrid trailed off when he noticed someone on a dark broomstick coasting high above the forest through the shroud of drifting snow. The next second, they careened across the grounds and landed atop the Astronomy Tower. Hagrid scratched his beard and gazed up at the moon, as the shadowy figure stepped down from their broom and entered the school.

"Who goes flyin' on a night like this?" he wondered softly, scrunching his nose in the icy flakes.