CHAPTER THREE: THE DYNAMIC DUO

They were awoken the next morning at the crack of dawn by a cacophony of noise which, oddly enough, sounded remarkably liken to the simultaneous explosion of a foray of firecrackers. Although they didn’t know it at the time, their speculations were very much correct.

Soon doors were flying open as the residents of the house ran into the hall and stairwell, wondering what in the world was going on. Everyone was pretty much in a state of panic as they all questioned each other as to what was happening and, upon receiving no difinative answer to their inquiries, ran downstairs.

There was a great pounding of feet and creaking of steps as they all made a mad dash down the dilapidated, old stairs. The ghoul who had taken up residence in the attic long ago was, by now, shrieking up a storm.

They were all eager to know what was taking place and so crowded about the front door, yet when they thought more clearly on it, perhaps all of them traipsing out into possible danger was not the best of ideas. After all, they had no way of knowing who or what could be out there, though the fact that the wards preventing Voldemort and his minions from coming within a little over two kilometers of the house were still intact was promising and provided them with at least a little peace of mind.

A silent agreement was then made between the seven of them (though Harry seemed somewhat frustrated by the decision) that Arthur (who had returned quite early that very morning from the Ministry) and Bill would go out first so as to investigate the cause of the disturbance. As they shut the door behind them, Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke up to the remaining four.

“Why, there hasn’t been this much commotion since Fred and George left the—” here she cut out as realization suddenly dawned on her, “Wait a minute!” she cried, and before Ginny, Harry, Hermione, or Ron could so much as blink, she had thrown open the front door as wide as she possibly could and stormed out onto the top stair leading up to the house. “Fredrick Aralias and Georgiou Merrium Weasley, you two come here this instant!” she shouted in here trademark I’m-in-no-mood-to-be-messed-with tone that all of her children knew well.

The two troublemakers hastened to comply with her request, recognizing their mother’s tone of voice just as surely as they did the Burrow. Knowing that they were in for it, but not ready to admit defeat just yet, they plastered the most innocent looks they could muster onto their, very guilty, faces. Needless to say, Mrs. Weasley was not at all fooled.

“Now just what have you two done this time?” she questioned, continuing before either of the twins could interrupt, “And you’d better be honest with me now or you won’t be getting any dessert the whole time you’re here,” she threatened, knowing that the ‘no dessert’ punishment usually did the trick.

The twins looked scandalized, unable to believe their ears. “But, mum—” Fred began.

“—it’s Christmas—” George continued.

“—you wouldn’t—” Fred added.

“—you couldn’t—” George begged.

“We’ll be good, we promise,” they both finished pleadingly. Mrs. Weasley looked between the two searchingly, before shaking her head at her sons’ typical antics and letting out a long suffering sigh.

"I might go easy on you, with it being the holidays and all, as long as you tell me what you did and make sure to stay out of trouble for the rest of your stay. And I mean it!" Mrs. Weasley informed them, making sure to get her point across. She would be lenient, this time, but if the twins thought that they were going to get off scott free, then they had another thing coming.

“Well, you see...” George started off this time, before sharing a nervous look with his twin, who continued on for him.

“You know our joke shop, right?” Fred added cautiously, discontinuing as his mother gave him a glare at the mention of the joke shop. He decided to let his brother take it from there.

“We have this product—” George said.

“—Weasley’s Fantastic Flaming Fireworks we call them—” Fred supplied.

“—or just Triple F for short—” George added excitedly.

“—but that’s beside the point.” Fred said, noticing that his mother seemed to be getting angrier the more they talked.

“The point is—” George began again, before pausing to let his brother continue.

“—we were just running some...er...” Fred was saying before coming to a bit of a ‘sticky spot’ in the wording.

“—experiments?” George tried to help him out.

“Yes! That’s the word, experiments,” Fred finished, looking very pleased with himself and giving his twin a we-got-away-with-it-this-time grin.

Mrs. Weasley waited a moment before interrupting their internal victory dance. “Now what have I told you boys about blowing things up in my house! I have had enough of you boys and your joke shop and all of your ‘experiments’ lying all over the house and turning Ron fuchsia and making Ginny’s hair turn into straw like a scarecrow’s!” Mrs. Weasley ranted, her chest puffed out and her cheeks tinged pink.

“But we didn’t blow anything up inside the house—” Fred protested weakly.

“—the fireworks were outside the whole time—” George continued, supporting his twin’s statement.

“—and Ron didn’t turn fuchsia, per say,” Fred said, thinking out loud.

“Yeah, it was more of a dark pinkish-blue,” George clarified, pausing to think back on the ‘incident’ that had happened a little under a year ago.

Molly shook her head gently and let out a long suffering sigh as she couldn’t help but be amused by her sons’ typical behavior. Now that Mrs. Weasley's anger was sufficiently abated, Hermione chose to voice what had been on her mind for the past minute or so, ever since Mrs. Weasley had called for the twins. "Your middle name is Merrium?" she questioned George, though it came out more like a statement seeing as how his mum had already declared it to be true.

George's ears grew pink as his twin hastily affirmed Hermione's observation with the fervent nodding of his head, grinning from ear to ear all the while. Ron let out a snort of laughter, before finally breaking down into a full blown laughing fit. Bill let out a loud chuckle, shaking his head at Hermione for bringing up the one subject that had been an endless torment to George when they were all growing up. Ginny too was laughing, though she seemed to be doing it more at George's reaction than his middle name and was doing so in good humor. Harry even couldn't help but find it funny, though he tried to make his amusement a bit more discrete as he covered his mouth with his hand.

Finally, George couldn't take it any more, and with a burst of anger that was aimed at them all he directed a carefully veiled threat to Hermione in the form of a question. "Think it's funny, do you?" he asked, with an implied 'You'd better not.'

Hermione seemed somewhat taken aback, though she recovered fairly quickly and hastily began to reassure George of the fact that she didn't think his name funny, she hadn't laughed after all. "No, I don't think it's funny. In fact, I think it's a very pretty name."

At that, Fred, Ron, Bill, Ginny, and Harry only laughed harder and George's ears turned from pink to a red brighter than his hair. Harry was now laughing just as hard as the rest of them, unable to contain his mirth any longer at the scandalized and somewhat homicidal look that had crossed George's face at Hermione's inflammatory, although admittedly innocent, comment. By now, Ron and Ginny were clutching onto each other for support (as they were so shaken by laughter that they would not have been able to remain standing otherwise) as were Bill and Harry.

Just as George looked about ready to explode, as the fireworks he and George had used earlier that morning had, Mrs. Weasley wisely cut in. "Well, I suppose we'd better all head inside now. I dare say that we make quite a spectacle standing out here in our night clothes yelling up a storm. It's a good thing we don't have any nearby neighbors. I'm going into the kitchen to start breakfast, seeing as how we're all up already. And, since you two," here she shot a chastising look in the twins' direction, "are the reason for us being up, you have kitchen duty."

It was then that everyone (beside Fred and George, who had only just arrived) realized that Mrs. Weasley was quite right; they were all standing outside in their pajamas. And now that they thought about it, it was quite cold out. With that thought in mind, they all headed inside, to the magically induced warmth of the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley dragged Fred and George into the kitchen with her, as they looked behind them and at the rest of the group, sending them a silent plea for help. Their piteous looks were ignored by all, who figured that they deserved some punishment for waking them up at this ungodly hour.

Just then, a tawny colored barn owl flew up to the window carrying a rolled up bundle of papers tied with a bit of string and pecked insistently at the pane, wishing to deliver its package as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley greeted the owl, removed its burden, and paid it five knuts. As it hastily flew back out the way it had come, Mr. Weasley sat down at the dining room table to read what looked suspiciously like The Daily Prophet.

Ginny, Bill, Harry, Ron, and Hermione opted for the comfort of the living room. Ginny automatically claimed ‘her’ armchair, as Ron and Hermione sat side by side on one of the large couches (all previous grievances seemingly forgotten), leaving Harry and Bill to sit together on the other one. Bill sent a knowing look to his co-conspirator, Harry, nodding his head in Ron and Hermione’s direction in observance of their automatically sitting together. What was the saying again, ‘Actions speak louder than words’?

Nobody said anything for a while, mostly because they were too tired to think, let alone speak, though many a yawn was heard. It was Ginny who spoke up first, commenting idly about how Fred and George had always felt the need to ‘make an entrance’ and that she was not at all surprised by their theatrics, though she was rather perturbed by the fact that they had woken her up in the process. The rest of the group nodded in agreement, slouching down in their respective seats wearily.

“And here I thought that I would get to sleep in now that I’m at home and on vacation,” Bill complained, “So much for that idea.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t think Fred and George will be waking us up this early every morning,” she said logically. It was amazing how clearly she could think, even when she was tired.

“Yeah, that would mean that they would have to get up early each morning too,” Harry added sleepily, “I think that they’ll probably want to sleep in just as late as the rest of us,” he finished with a yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth as he instead used his hand to hold up his head, his elbow leaning precariously on top of the armrest of the sofa.

Ron looked as if he was contemplating what Harry had just said, trying to decide whether or not it was true. “Well, Fred and George do like to sleep in late, especially considering how late they usually stay up at night,” he started, before seeming to change his mind, “But they’ll also do just about anything to get in a good prank...It’s hard to say,” he concluded indecisively before rubbing a hand in soothing circular motions across his forehead. “It’s too early to think,” he explained, not bothering to wait for someone to ask.

They sat around in silence, all of them half asleep, for a little while longer, when Fred suddenly stuck his head out the kitchen door. “Breakfast’s ready!” he declared with far too much energy considering what time it was. Then a mischievous twinkle lit his eye as he added, “We made something special for all of you, a real treat.” And with that, he popped his head back into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him and leaving the five occupying the couches wondering what new form of torture (a.k.a. pranks) they were in for now.

But they were soon assured that the food was perfectly edible and, most importantly, that Fred and George weren’t trying to use them as guinea pigs as they heard Mrs. Weasley yelling, once again, at the twins from the kitchen. “Now don’t you go making them think there’s something wrong with this food! It’s perfectly fine and I won’t have them not eating any of it just because you were out there giving them a scare! And if you did put anything in it, then you’d better start praying, because I’ve had it about up to my ears with your behavior today!”

Fred and George came out seconds later, smiling sheepishly at the rest of the group as they levitated a tray each, filled with eggs and sausage respectively. Mrs. Weasley came out soon afterwards, levitating a large platter loaded with pancakes and a pitcher filled with what appeared to be pumpkin juice. Setting their loads down upon the table, making sure to avoid placing them atop Mr. Weasley’s newspaper, they each went back into the kitchen for more, returning with plates, forks, knives, glasses, napkins, maple syrup, and butter.

The smell of food seemed to revive even the most exhausted of the bunch, as they all rushed to the table, playing an awkward musical chairs as they scrambled for the seat nearest to the pancakes. They finally settled and were ready to eat when a loud banging on the door interrupted their meal.

Setting his newspaper down on top of his napkin and next to his plate, Mr. Weasley rose from the table, his chair scraping across the floor in protest as he vacated it, and went to answer the door. The entry was hidden from view to those still sitting around the table, but at the sound of a deep voice yelling out in greeting, “Dad!” they all had a pretty good idea of who it was. Charlie had apparently just arrived.