| Inked | (George Weasley)

Chapter Forty-Five

"Ollie!"

"Our favorite Ravenclaw!"

"The best Lark in town!"

"We have a very impressive and irresistible proposition for you."

The first day of classes wasn't even over and already the twins had begun right where they left off last year in bothering Olive.

"I thought you promised me that you wouldn't bother me about pranks this year." Olive was sitting outside in the nice September weather, reading through a chapter in her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook about nonverbal spells.

Fred and George took a seat on either side of the Ravenclaw, facing the girl with eager expressions. Olive didn't look up from her book, scribbling a quick note in the margins of one of the pages, and then marked it. She could feel the twins staring at her, but she fought the urge to look up and give them the satisfaction.

"Well, we did." George nodded, "But this doesn't involve pranking. It's entirely different."

"And there's something in it for you." Fred added.

With an irritated sigh Olive closed her textbook, looking at the twins with her brows raised, "You have two minutes to explain. I have work to do."

After exchanging a quick look, the twins began their proposition to their raven-haired friend.

"So, what Georgie and I want more than anything is to open our own joke shop." Fred explained, "And to do that, we need money, which we do not have."

"It just so happens that our lovely school of Hogwarts has decided to host the TriWizard Tournament. The winning champion receives everlasting glory, bragging rights, and a thousand galleons." George added with much animation, "Alas, in order to enter, one must be of age. Fred and I are eight months too young to submit our names."

"So, we need your help. Desperately." The eldest twin continued the offer, "To create a potion that will age George and I a year so we can enter the TriWizard Tournament."

Olive looked between the two, the expression on her face unchanging throughout their whole proposition. She was comprehending what the two had just asked her to do. More specifically, why they think they can get away with such a thing.

"You want my help to brew an aging potion for you two," Olive started, "To age you only a year so you can enter the Tournament?"

"Looks like she understood our offer perfectly." George said to Fred and an eager grin, "Now, let's get started on logistics-"

"Wait." Olive shook her head, "I didn't say I'd help you with this."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked, "It's simple enough. Help us brew the potion so we can enter our names. If one of us gets chosen as champion and wins, we'll give you a portion of our prize money."

The two shrugged, "See? Easy."

"No," The Ravenclaw shook her head, "Not easy."

George furrowed his brows, "What do you mean?"

Blowing a dark curl out of her eyes, Olive sat back against the tree she was sitting beneath, looking up at the green leaves briefly to collect her thoughts.

"Well, to start, it's an utterly stupid idea." Olive shrugged, "Didn't you hear Dumbledore last night? There will be precautions and spells put in place to prevent anyone underage from submitting their name. I highly doubt an aging potion will outsmart him."