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

Chapter 17:10

"Well, even I can solve that head-scratcher," said Fred deftly, as they entered the dungeons after being dismissed from the ridiculously long lesson.

"What's that?" Lee asked.

"How he'll get the sack. Tell 'em, George."

"For destroying those paintings with his son, while looking for some hidden Hogwarts artifact."

On their heels, Angelina snorted with laughter. "I wouldn't go notifying the Daily Prophet just yet. Clearly, it was the woman who tried to drown us," she said, hurrying past them to join up with Alicia.

"What does she know?" George grumbled, kicking the air behind her.

"Angelina could be right," Lee interjected. "That witch was roaming the halls, and we didn't see her on the map. She must be using the Dark Arts to cloak herself or something. You've never seen her on the map before, have you?"

"Wouldn't know," said Fred. "Even if I had seen her name, which I didn't, we can't be expected to memorize them all. I'm certainly not taking Parsimonae off the hook just yet, even if he is a decent instructor."

"He wasn't half-bad," George agreed, as they entered the Potions classroom.

Professor Snape was already growling from behind his desk.

"There shall be no more talk of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" he said, maddeningly. "Or that there is a jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. That is absurd. I will hear nothing more about it. Are we clear?" He slammed a giant spellbook shut and leapt to his feet.

"Someone's still bitter..." Lee joked, as the twins sat beside him.

"Expect an exam this week," said Snape, with a horrible frown. "For the charlatans who will be seeking an easy alternative to studying, we will be making an anti-cheating infusion that I will then add to a random assortment of cauldrons on examination day. Separate into groups and open to chapter thirty-three of the text. Now!" He eyed the twins with derision. "Fred Weasley, partner with Alicia Spinnet. Lee Jordan with Muriel Baxter. George Weasley...Angelina Johnson."

"No, not again!"

"Must I be with him, Professor? Anyone else, please!"

"Would you prefer I hand out your marks now? I promise, they will be undesirable," Snape replied, taken aback by their desperate expressions. "Get — to — work!"

George sighed miserably as Angelina joined him at their table. During the next half hour, the pair of them were more awkward than ever, bickering over the slightest of issues.

"Cut it vertically, you imbecile," said Angelina imploringly.

"I know what I'm doing! You have to separate them first," George defended.

"Just let me do it, will you?" she replied.

Five minutes later, they could still be heard grumbling.

"Stop nudging me."

"Your foot is touching my foot."

Not a minute later, George bellowed, "Flip the page. FLIP THE PAGE!"

"Stir slower, you're splashing it all over the table."

Then, "Stoke the flames, it needs to be...you know...hot."

"You do it, you're closer to the poker."

And lastly, as murky green smoke poured over the edge of their shared cauldron, "This is the wrong color...I told you. You didn't add enough powdered fangs, George. If you'd only listened."

"Shows how much you know," said George boastfully. "It needs to rest for three minutes!"

Angelina objected under her breath. "Insulting ME will not help you to go back and listen in order to correct YOUR mistakes."

With a satisfied, yet nasty smirk, George flipped to the next page so violently that it tore from the binding. He jabbed his finger at the top, where the instructions confirmed the resting time.

"Looks like I told YOU!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know that, George Weasley, when you're hogging the book?"

"E-NOUGH!" Snape thundered from across the room. "You have been quarreling throughout the task and it ends this instant!" As he plodded over to their table, preparing to separate them, the smoke emanating from the cauldron changed to a vibrant blue — the proper color. He snapped his tongue. "You've completed the potion. Fastest in class. And superbly, it seems. I would have rewarded you with house points, had you not been so insufferable. Now...sit still until everyone has completed the task."

Ordinarily, in the moments following such public chastisement, most students would be surprisingly well-behaved. This was not one of those times.

The instant Professor Snape turned his back to them, George scolded her in a low voice. "Lovely. Now you've gone and made a mess of it all."

"Were you born this stupid?" Angelina inquired with sincerity. "Or were you dropped on your head at some point? I honestly wonder."

"That's it..." he said with a snarl.

"Yes, it is!" she agreed, pulling her wand on him.

Before Angelina could point it at George's throat, Snape was there to snatch it from her grasp. Without a word, he stared fixedly at them, his long and greasy black hair covering half his face.

"Weasley. Your wand," he said in an abnormally still drone.

"She's the one —"

"No talking." He took a long pause before concluding his thought. "You can retrieve them after class. Miss Johnson, back to your seat. Mister Weasley, you will stay right there unless you want to lose your Quidditch privileges. Have I been heard?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," they said together.