Disclaimer: Harry Potter, the Weasley Twins, and all their associates are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow.
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On his yearly trip to Diagon Alley, Harry made a point to stop in at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and see how his investment was paying off.
Business was booming, to judge by the number of people wandering into, out of, and around the rather chaotic little shop. Fred and George shouted cheerful greetings to their number-one investor as he walked in the door, but both twins were preoccupied with assisting customers, restocking merchandise, and cleaning up after the occasional mishap.
Harry spent some time just leaning on the counter, watching. How the twins managed to navigate the cluttered aisles and haphazard stacks of merchandise so effectively, let alone prevent their customers from destroying the place by accident, was beyond him. But they didn't appear to mind at all when a patron accidentally set off one of their prank items, which seemed to happen quite frequently; a good laugh was generally had by all, and Harry noted that each time someone gave an impromptu product demonstration, several of that item were usually sold in short order.
At last George found a moment to stand and chat with him. "Been a busy morning," he said with a grin, offering an unidentified toffee, which Harry politely declined. "We've just rolled out a whole new line of Snackboxes. The teachers know all the old tricks, now, so we've branched out a bit. We've got Laryngitis Licorice, Pinkeye Pops, and Jawbreakers that actually do break your jaw--"
"--those still need some tweaking; a bit too painful yet, but we'll get it sorted out, never fear," Fred put in on his way past.
"And we can't keep the Whiz-Bangs in stock. Especially the new customizable Insult-A-Booms."
"Insult-A-Booms? Dare I ask?" Harry chuckled.
"I'm glad you did! Allow me to demonstrate." Harry took a hasty step back as George pulled a small cylindrical object out from under the counter and lit one end.
"Argus Filch," he said clearly, and tossed the firework onto the floor.
BOOM! The cylinder exploded, and a cloud of multicolored smoke filled the front of the store, smelling pleasantly of burnt sugar. It dissipated quickly, leaving the words "THREE CHEERS FOR ARGUS FILCH, BERK-IN-CHIEF OF HOGWARTS ACADEMY!" hanging wispily in the air for several minutes before they, too, evaporated.
As they stood admiring the effect, the door opened and a man walked in carrying a paper sack. At least Harry assumed it was a man, as that was the general shape and size of the person, but it was hard to tell; he, or she, was completely covered in fluffy yellow feathers. "'Scuse me. I'd like to lodge a complaint," he said politely to George.
"Just give us a sec, Harry," George said, turning to deal with the disgruntled customer. "What seems to be the problem, sir?"
"It's these Canary Creams," said the feathered gentleman, pointing at the bag. "Ate one last evening six o'clock, and I 'aven't molted yet. How much longer I got to wait?"
"Hmm, that's odd. Canary Creams usually wear off within a few--oh, wait." George took one out of the bag and peered at it closely. "Did you get these out of the Five-Sickle Box?"
"Aye, the whole bag. Loads cheaper than the ones in the bin."
"Well, there you have it then. Anything that comes out of the Five-Sickle Box is sold as-is, exempt from our guarantee. Eat at your own risk. Says so right on the box." George jerked his thumb over his shoulder at a large box sitting in the far corner, with a disclaimer sign clearly tacked to the front.
The man walked over and examined the sign, then sighed. "So it does...guess the missus is right, I do need to get me spectacles replaced. So what do I do about it, then?"
George took another look at the defective Cream. "If I remember right, this batch was only a little stronger than usual. About three days before the molt kicks in. If you can hold out that long, you'll be right as rain, otherwise you'll have to visit a Healer. Or if you're in a real hurry, a basic depilatory spell will take the feathers off, but it'll leave you looking a bit...er..."
"Plucked," Fred supplied helpfully, carrying an attractive young witch's purchases up to the counter for her.
"Right. Don't suppose you'd be willing to take the rest of these off my hands?" the man said hopefully.
"We don't offer refunds on Five-Sickle items," George explained, "but you're welcome to exchange them for anything else you can find in the box."
"Awright. Everything in it's cocked-up a bit, I suppose?"
"In one way or another. Here, let me see if I can help you find something that suits you better." George accompanied the man back to the Five-Sickle Box, and Harry followed, curious to see what other defective products the Twins were trying to unload.
George poked through the box, pointing out various items that hadn't turned out quite as expected. "Let's see, here we've got some Puking Pastilles that got reversed somehow...keep you in the loo for hours...a couple of Headless Hats gone wrong," he put one on and the right half of his head vanished; the other made just his nose and ears invisible. "Extendable Ears that translate everything they hear into Mountain Troll...might be a market for those, if we could figure out how we did it...got a handful of fake wands that turn into live tarantulas, and I think this one actually works as a wand--sort of--" He tried a lumos with it and nothing happened; or so it seemed, until he stuck out his tongue, which was glowing brightly. "Right. Couple of Pinkeye Pops that bring out a nice shade of turquoise...Ton-Tongue Toffees that engorge a random body part...I wouldn't recommend those. They've been in here a while, probably gone stale. Oh, Harry, be careful with that--"
Harry had picked up an oddly-shaped item made, to his surprise, of white plastic, and stared at it incredulously. "George, what are you doing with one of these? Doesn't this count as a Muggle artifact?"
"Er, technically, I suppose..." George flushed slightly, glancing around. "Keep your voice down, will you? It's a prototype, just a concept item really. I told Fred not to put it in there. Let me get this gent squared away and I'll explain it to you. Only keep a good grip on it, eh?"
When the yellow-feathered man had been sent on his way, his bag stuffed with oddities whose usefulness was a complete mystery to Harry, George held out his hand for the plastic utensil, which Harry surrendered with a chuckle. "Now you've really got to tell me what in Merlin's name you two plan to do with a Spork."
"Oh, is that what they're called? We were wondering." George smiled. "We found it on a trip to Muggle London. Fred thought they'd be brilliant for some sort of self-starting food-fight flipper, so he brought a handful home. Only we need to come up with a different material...this plastic stuff just doesn't take enchantments very well." He eyed the Spork disapprovingly. "This one--well, frankly, it's a bit dangerous. We really should destroy it, but Fred hates to throw anything away..."
"Why, what does it do?" Harry couldn't imagine what could possibly be dangerous about a Spork.
George cleared his throat. "Well, it's just that it--wait. What am I thinking? You're wearing spectacles." He grinned, handing the Spork back to Harry, along with one of the three-day Canary Creams. "Go on, give it a try. Flip it at me."
Somewhat dubious, Harry put the Canary Cream in the bowl of the Spork, bent the utensil back slightly, and let it go. He expected the confection to fly at George (hitting him in the nose, if Harry's aim was any good.)
The Canary Cream flew, but as the Spork snapped forward, it jerked right out of Harry's hand, flipped itself over, and came zipping at his face, lightning-fast. He stumbled back as the Spork bounced off his glasses, tumbled away, then righted itself and flew at him again.
Thankful for his skill as a Seeker, he made a grab and captured the aggressive Spork, which vibrated angrily in his hand for a moment before quieting down.
He looked at George in disbelief. "An eye-gouging Spork?"
"Fraid so." George grinned sheepishly. "We actually thought of trying for a weapons contract with the Ministry, but the paperwork to get it approved would be a nightmare. Here, let me have it. I'll lock it away somewhere--where Fred can't find it," he added under his breath.
There was a loud SPLASH from somewhere near the back of the store. "Oops. Someone set off a Portable Swamp. 'Scuse me, Harry!" He vaulted over a display of Skiving Snackboxes to get to the scene of the disaster.
Harry turned back to the Five-Sickle Box, shrugged, and picked up one of the bags that sat invitingly nearby.
Five Sickles, after all, was pretty cheap. Crabbe and Goyle would eat anything, and Malfoy usually made sure he got the lion's share of anything they had...
Two days later, the Slytherins had lost sixty points between them for appearing feathered in class, taking too many bathroom breaks, and causing Professor McGonagall's tongue to glow bright fuschia. The Weasley Twins, once again, were the toast of Gryffindor Tower.
Harry never did find out what became of the Eye-Gouging Spork, but he and Ron had a lot of fun scaring the First Years with the story (and trying to explain what a Spork was.)
And a few months later, after a remarkably successful product introduction, followed by a rash of spectacular food fights in the Main Hall (and the memorable sight of Professor Snape covered head to foot with guacamole,) Weasley Wizard Wheezes' Food Fight Flippers were officially added to Filch's list of banned items, much to the disappointment of all.
FIN