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

Chapter 28:3

After they visited the founders' room, where they placed the Slytherin House Cup prominently at the center of the circle table, and bid farewell to the miniature Whomping Willow tree that was swatting angrily at the hovering orb of sunlight, Fred and George joined their fellow students in the Entrance Hall, as everyone left the castle in small packs of tightly-knit friendships.

The Weasley twins stepped through the immense double doors and looked out on the grounds, where students were scattered and enjoying the beautiful sunny day that was speckled with cottony clouds and the occasional spinning textbook that was being liberated into the black lake.

Towler and Nettles stepped past them, and the twins promised to send owls over the summer, before reaching the procession of teachers who were waiting in the grass at the bottom of the steps. All of them eyed Fred and George with very particular expressions.

Professor McGonagall was the first to stop them. She gazed down in warm judgment. Although McGonagall knew the twins shared a good heart, she was still cross with them for coming late to practice, skipping Quidditch matches, losing Gryffindor the Cups, for the Toilers of Trouble nonsense, and for putting themselves directly in the line of fire against the greatest evil Hogwarts had seen in fifty years. Minerva McGonagall could have sent them home with a litany of chiding remarks, but, instead, she straightened their robes and offered a curt, nearly-emotional smile.

The twins lowered their heads and walked steadily down the path, glancing up occasionally. They were glad to see Hagrid's face amongst the judgmental expressions. He gave them a solid wink that set their minds at ease, because no one understood what it meant to be an outcast at Hogwarts more than Hagrid. Unfortunately, the gentle-hearted gamekeeper was standing next to Professor Snape. They could almost read his disapproving thoughts through the rhythmic flaring of his nostrils. Their second year with him would not be easy. As everyone had heard throughout the last few days, Snape was preparing for his new position as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he had told them all to ready themselves for a new Potions Master come September, when he would expect every student on time and fully prepared for rigorous lessons in his new classroom.

Professor Quirrell, on the other hand, would remain in the dungeons. He looked shiftily at the twins, and muttered something under his breath, before adjusting his purple turban with a nervous twitch.

Professor Kettleburn was next. The man was scratching at his shoulder where the metal armature was cutting into the gruesome, leathery skin of his neck. But when he saw them, and nodded his goodbye, it was accompanied by a small burst of white steam that shot out from his forearm. Fred and George spotted a softness in his eyes that they had never noticed before. It made the twins realize that, although he wasn't the boy from the photograph, Kettleburn had looked like them at some point, before the first of many terrible tragedies entered his life.

At the end of the line stood Professor Moira Mulligan, who was sharing some lasting wisdom with Angelina in her ever-sweet voice. The twins stopped to listen.

"Well done in the fight against Lexington Parsimonae and my old —" She stopped herself and shook her head for a moment. "Against Aruzula Darc," she said dimly. "That particular Magical Investigator is more formidable than people give him credit for, and she...well, they were in the Pensieve." She glanced down at the twins.

"I wasn't," said Angelina, attempting to hide her excitement at the mention of Parsimonae, who she now thoroughly believed to be the Master of Mystery.

"And I'm glad you were not," said Mulligan. "Some magic should remain a secret." She rested a hand on Angelina's arm. "I do hope you take Study of Ancient Runes in your third year. I'd say, us Irish girls should stick together."

"I certainly will, Professor. My mother has been carrying around a stone for ages. It's covered in Celtic markings. She has no clue what it means."

"Let's find out together, then, shall we?" The Runes professor turned to face the twins. "And a fond goodbye to you as well, Fred and George. Try not to be a bad influence."

"You can't mean us?" said Fred, looking shocked as he faced his brother.

"She's thinking of those other Weasley twins," said George.

Down the hill, they found Lee laughing with a few of the house-elves over a scratch on his trunk.

"Wait until my dad gets a load of this," Lee said, bowled over. "He's going to murder me!"

Tears were streaming down his face, as the house-elves mimed all sorts of torturous deaths. Fred and George had never seen their friend laughing so hard. Lee waved to the boys and gestured back to the steam cloud rising over the village of Hogsmeade beyond the trees, letting them know that he was off to save them a compartment.

Nearby, they spotted the Gryffindor Quidditch team standing together, looking across the grounds at them. Fred and George approached awkwardly, avoiding the eyes of Jacen Wu, who would have fared better as the only Beater on the team than both of the twins combined. But rather than agonizing over their losses, they tugged Fred and George into their clustered conversation and, as one group, they said goodbye to Simon Graham and Shep Quarter.

"I'm off to Egypt to work alongside your brother, Bill, actually," Shep said, looking down at the twins.

"They're secretly collecting Gryffindor Quidditch players," said Column Briers with a smirk.

"We had a decent run, didn't we?" said Graham. Each of them nodded approvingly.

"That match against Slytherin," Charlie recalled. "One for the books."

Fred and George sulked as they gazed up at their taller teammates, feeling completely inadequate.

"Mates, you're being..." Fred began. "We know we mucked up everything."

"Thanks for the pardon," George added.

"Well, we're a team, aren't we?" said Oliver Wood. "Kettleburn told Charlie what you'd done. McGonagall confirmed it. We all thought it was brilliant."

The team was nodding.

"So much talent," said Graham, remorsefully. "This really could have been our year."

"Next year, you're gonna win it all for us, yeah?" said Quarter tossing an arm around each of his fellows. "The legendary Charlie Weasley's final year at Hogwarts."

Their brother blushed and joined in the huddle, before making a hasty retreat. He knew their praise was a short cry from being hoisted up onto their shoulders and paraded across the grounds, in the hopes of igniting a chant of Dra-gon! Dra-gon! Dra-gon!