Fred and George and the Elixir of Life (Year 2) (WAITING...)

Chapter 2:7

For the second time that morning, Bill had Fred and George on the tips of their toes. He loosened the clasp and allowed them a chance to see inside his bag. Resting against the unevenly knit B on his Weasley jumper was a mysterious Egyptian mask, long and wooden. Unlike the Portkey, it was lined with shallow runes and inlaid with gemstones of every color and size. Not a minute later, Bill closed the bag.

Charlie looked impressed and the twins were wearing greedy expressions as they continued putting some distance between themselves and the Burrow.

"Is that dangerous? It looks dangerous," Fred marveled.

"It is. Extremely," Bill replied. "Hasn't seen daylight in thousands of years."

"Why've they given it to you?" George asked.

Charlie expelled an uneasy laugh. "It's cursed. Isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. The goblins aren't entirely sure about the magic inside the stones, but the curses protecting the mask took over a year to dismantle."

"Inside the stones?" asked one of the twins.

"As in, natural magic?" asked the other.

"Could be. But I'd say a fair few are master potion amulets," Charlie assumed, reminding Fred and George that he was now a seventh year and had completed far more schooling. "Enormously rare, them."

"My thoughts exactly," Bill admitted. "Which means there's no telling what they hold."

"Right. So... don't go touching the mask... is what you're saying?" Fred surmised.

"Just about."

"If Mum knew you'd brought that into our home, she'd have you fricasseed on the spot," said Charlie quickly.

Bill nodded sluggishly. "I can do without that image, thanks."

The four of them kept walking through the field behind the Burrow until they came to a stop near the largest of the apple trees on their property. George was inspecting a soggy envelope in the grass when Fred found another. It wasn't long before Charlie spotted a letter in the branches, and Bill saw a fourth along the dirt road that led to town. The further they got from home, the more undelivered letters they found until Charlie took off in the direction of the woods that lined the orchard, most notably to an immense beech tree that was set back from the field.

From the number of owl feathers and discarded envelopes that crowded the base of the tree, it was obvious to them what had happened.

"Errol!" Charlie blurted, lifting a ruined letter that was addressed to him. The great gray owl sprang out of a hole in the wide and twisting trunk. Its head was pointing in the wrong direction. "Over here, look lively." Errol twisted in place and wobbled onto a lower limb of the enormous tree while Charlie shook the envelope. "Just couldn't be bothered to deliver the post? And here I was keeping you properly fed all summer. Let you sleep in my room on the rainy days. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Errol let out a pained squawk. Charlie's eyes drooped and he approached the family owl.

"I know. I know..." he said tenderly, stroking Errol's head. "I shouldn't have snapped. It's not your fault. You're well past your prime. Delivering the mail is a young man's game."

"Sorry, Charlie. Fred and I are to blame, actually," George confessed. "I gave Errol a letter to bring to one of our friends, but then... changed my mind after he took the envelope from me. Must've confused him."

"Which friend?" Charlie asked.

"Angelina Johnson. She's not really a friend. Well — she is — but not completely. It's hard to explain."