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

Chapter 18:5

George raised his eyebrows cleverly, as Ron took their father's seat at the table. The family rat, which he'd been cradling like a baby, was now uncharacteristically skittish and nestled deeper into his arms.

"Doesn't seem to like you too much," said Ron, as he rubbed a thumb down Scabbers' rounded back.

"Ronald, if we tell you something...will you keep it secret?"

Their little brother nodded enthusiastically.

"It was us," said George, gesturing to the rat's vibrantly yellow coat.

"You did it? Will you show me how?" Ron begged, lowering his voice.

Fred leaned in. "Can't do magic outside of school...but we can tell you the spell."

George handed a clean fork to his twin. "Fred, your wand."

"Yes, of course. It goes like this." He squinted dramatically at the salt shaker across the table and thrust his arm theatrically forward, the end of the fork a mere inch away. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow..." Fred pronounced in a hush, while trying to hide a conniving grin. "Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"

Their younger brother was stunned. "That's bri-ll-iant!" he said slowly. "Did you make it up yourselves?"

"Naturally," said George with puckering lips. He took back the fork and stowed it proudly into the chest pocket of his pajamas. "That's just the sort of thing you do at magic school."

"You two are cracking good at spells. I'll probably be rubbish," Ron sulked.

"Go on, you try," Fred suggested, handing him a different fork.

Ron grabbed it excitedly and plopped Scabbers onto an empty plate. "Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" he bellowed, jabbing the fork down.

"Watch it, there," George said with a snicker, stopping his brother from impaling the family rat. "Let's not make a kebab out of him, yeah...?"

Scabbers sped to George's plate, grabbed hold of his leftover crust, and scurried to the end of the table, where he could eat in the privacy of the empty fruit bowl.

"Poor Scabbers. He is getting a little fat," said Ron woefully.

"Fat? Scabbers?" Mrs. Weasley said, peeking over at the table. "He is, isn't he? Hard to tell with all that yellow fur. Stop feeding him so much, will you?"

Percy groaned. "He doesn't like me otherwise."

A knock came at the door. Cedric Diggory was waving from the windowpanes with rosy cheeks and a large cake balanced in one hand. He stomped the slush off his boots before stepping in from the cold.

"Morning, Weasleys!"

"Hey, Ced!" George called.

"Nice of you to stop by," chimed Fred. "No gifts?"

"Mum wanted me to bring you her famous winter trifle." Cedric set the platter on their table. He looked at the twins and scrunched his nose. "Hope you like figs."

"Well, Cedric. You'll stick around, won't you?" said Mr. Weasley. "Game of wizard chess, perhaps?"

"Sure."

"No, not inside. Boys, put your shoes on," their mother ordered. "My brothers were hardly ever indoors during the Christmas break. In fact, we only saw them at meal times. Let's give that a try, hmm?"

"Good thinking, Mum," the twins stated in unison, reaching for their winter jackets.

"I want to be able to see you from the kitchen window," she instructed, pointing at them with a half-peeled carrot. "And no magic outside of school."

"Mother, the thought never crossed our minds," said George.

"Well, it had crossed my mind," said Fred.

As the twins donned their boots and opened the front door, Mrs. Weasley grumbled under her breath, "Don't need a surprise visit from that nasty Umbridge woman on Christmas Day. No, I do not."

Ron raced after them. "Can we play a game of Snow Quidditch?"

"Wake Bill," Fred suggested. "He enchanted the snowballs last year."

Charlie followed them outside, stuffing his head into a wide wooly hat. "Diggory is an excellent Keeper actually, Ronald."

"Cedric, we didn't know you'd made the team," George said in disbelief.

Their friend nodded, somewhat in shock. "Same time as you."

"Hufflepuff, though," added Ron.

"And what's wrong with Hufflepuff?" their mother called from the kitchen.

"I dunno," said Ron, shrugging. "Nothing...I guess..."

"No, the boy's right, Mum," Fred replied. "Diggory is, and will always be, our mortal enemy."

With shouts and catcalls, they made for the soft snow. Unfortunately, as was custom for the Weasley family when the twins were involved, Ron had only just finished getting his boots on when the match had to be called due to a case of shattered kitchen windows.

"Bill!" their mother shrieked.

"It weren't me," he cried. "Fred and George are the Beaters."

"You're the oldest," she screamed. "It's your job to keep them in line. And Charlie! You're their Captain."

"Thanks, lads," Charlie uttered, pelting them with snowballs.

Fred and George were trying desperately to cover their smiles.

"It was a fabulous play."

"You have to admit it."

"I've been prepping this meal all day, and it's ruined!"

"It can't be that bad."

"We can still eat it. Glass and all."

"You're going to eat the rug, if I have anything to say about it!"

Fred cupped his hands around his mouth. "Only happy thoughts, Mum."

"From now on," George finished.

"AHHH!" Mrs. Weasley hollered, just before lobbing a head of cabbage at them through the broken window. "How soon until you're back at Hogwarts?!"