Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Position: Beater 2 for Holyhead Harpies
Prompts:
Begin and end with the same word

(Line of Dialogue) "When I said to cause a distraction, this isn't exactly what I meant."

1. (dialogue) "I'm bored. Play with me!"

15. (word) shatter

Word Count: 1,161

Thanks to Lizzie for beta'ing!

"Ready?" whispered Charlie.

"Ready." Fred rubbed his hands together and gave his brother the slyest smile he could manage. At age six, he'd already pulled his fair share of pranks—his most successful one to date involved hiding behind the couch and jumping out to scare Mummy when she passed through on her way to the kitchen—but this prank was different. For the first time, Charlie was involved. Everyone knew Charle was the master of mischief in the Weasley home.

Fred wanted to be just like him.

"Let's go over the plan one more time," Charlie said, crouching down to Fred's eye level. "Do you remember our target?"

Fred scrunched up his nose and peered up into the rafters of the ceiling that hung low across the stairwell as he tried to remember. "Scare Mummy!" he said finally, resorting back to his specialty prank.

Charlie put his face in his hands. "No, Fred. Not this time." He put a hand on Fred's shoulder. "I'm going off to Hogwarts in ten days. If you're going to take over the mischief around here for me, you've got to pay attention." He glanced over his shoulder as a creak on the stairs sounded from a few floors above them. "Is someone coming?"

Fred heard a few more creaks and then a door banging shut. "Nobody," he said, sending Charlie a thumbs-up with one little hand. "All clear."

"Good." Charlie maneuvered his body so he was sitting on one of the steps. "Okay. Let's go over the plan one more time. Our target is Percy's birthday cake."

"Right!" Fred couldn't believe he'd forgotten that part of the plan. "We want to eat it up. Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum." He clapped his hands.

"Yes." Charlie put a finger over his own lips, indicating for Fred to be quiet. "We want to eat it up. Just to make sure it tastes good enough for our dear brother."

"I don't even like Percy."

"He's a stick in the mud," said Charlie. "But if we get caught, that's what you tell Mum and Dad: we wanted to be sure it tasted good enough for our dear brother. Repeat that."

"We wanted to . . . to taste . . . our dear brother. . . ."

"That's close enough," Charlie said with a smirk. "So how are we going to get the cake? Do you remember that part of the plan?"

Fred nodded. "We make a distraction."

"Yes. You're going to cause a distraction that will draw Mum out of the kitchen so I can run in and grab the cake. I'll bring it up to your room, and then when the distraction is over, you'll meet me there. Understand?"

"What kind of distraction?" asked Fred.

"That's up to you."

Fred's eyes grew wide. "What if I get a tiger from the zoo," he said, "and I set it loose in the kitchen? Mummy will run away."

Charlie patted Fred's back. "Too big, Fred. Think smaller."

"A baby tiger?"

Charlie laughed. "Think . . . less complicated."

"What if I make fireworks in the kitchen?"

"The moment you figure out how to get fireworks indoors," Charlie said with a slight shake of his head, "you let me know, because we can find a way to get rich off that. Try a different distraction."

Fred tapped his chin as he thought, mimicking a habit of his dad's that looked comically out of place on a five-year-old. "Oh!" he said. "I've got it!"

"What?"

"I could get a tiger from the—"

"No tigers, Fred. How would you even get to the zoo?"

"Walk," said Fred as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"It's ten miles—"

Charlie cut himself off as they heard a door overhead opened. "Someone's coming," Charlie whispered. "Fred, it's now or never. If we get caught here, they'll know we're planning something. You've got to go cause a distraction. Do whatever it takes. Just get Mum out of the kitchen."

Swallowing hard, Fred nodded. "I'll do it."

He wandered into the kitchen, and then stopped short as he saw his mother, her back facing him, putting the finishing decorations on Percy's birthday cake. He wracked his brains for a distraction. "Mummy?" he said finally.

Mummy didn't even turn around. "What is it, George?"

"I'm Fred."

"Fred, then. Mummy's busy."

"I'm bored. Play with me!"

"Not now, pumpkin."

Fred desperately wished he had a tiger.

"Fred, love, get out of the kitchen or you won't have any cake."

Fred sighed. "Okay."

As he padded out of the kitchen, head hung in failure, it hit him: the perfect distraction. Barely restraining his laughter, he dove behind the couch, eyes fixed on the kitchen door.

It wasn't long before Mummy walked out of that door, wand pointed at the cake that hovered in front of her. It was an exquisite cake: blue frosting with a line of sugar-constructed books (Percy liked books) perched on the top, each spine holding a different letter of the words Happy Birthday. With a deep breath, Fred forced himself to wait until Mummy was in the perfect position before. . . .

"BOO!" He leaped from behind the couch, carrying out the prank he had perfected and performed hundreds of times before.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Mummy looked down at him, surprised—she dropped her wand—the cake continued to hover for a split second—the cake began to fall—the cake crash-landed, face-down, on Fred's head—

"No!" cried Mummy. The hardened sugar of her carefully-crafted books shattered against the wooden floor. "Fred!"

Charlie, who had seen the whole thing from his hiding place in the stairwell, ran out to assess the scene. "When I said to cause a distraction, that isn't exactly what I meant," he muttered.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mummy yelled, brandishing her wand at Fred. "Answer me!"

Fred was trembling. There was cake over his eyes, but he wiped it away and licked his fingers. "Not bad," he said, turning to Charlie. "Pretty good, actually. A very good target."

"Target?" Mummy looked back and forth between Fred and Charlie. "What are you two talking about?"

"We wanted to be sure the cake tasted good enough for our dear brother!" Fred said, drawing up his chest. "Yum, yum, I love cake!"

Mummy put her face in her hands. "Go to your rooms," she said. "Both of you. I will deal with you later."

Fred and Charlie glanced at each other before taking off toward the stairs. "Did we do it?" Fred asked when they were out of earshot of their mother.

Charlie dipped his finger into the frosting on Fred's cheek and then raised his finger to his lips. "Tasty," he said with a nod of approval. "Mission accomplished."

Fred clapped his hands. "Am I ready to be the new master of mischief?"

Charlie laughed as he shook his head. "You've got promise. You've got a long way to go, but someday, Fred, I think you'll be ready."