It was the dead of night and there was a faint smell of something burning in the Gryffindor common room. The source of the smell, of course, was Fred and George Weasley's dormitory room. The twins had found it much easier to do their potions and experiments at night considering Professor McGonagall had banished them the their own dormitory room after a nasty explosion that landed them and their dorm mates in the hospital wing for a few days. Lee Jordan never really walked as straight as he had before the accident.

Fred still smiled just thinking about it. Madam Pomfrey was surely getting sick of seeing their singed freckled faces. Soon, she wouldn't have to. Fred and George were halfway through their seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This particular experiment was in preparation for their new Fizzing Fiendish Fireworks; a set of fireworks aimed to be fully interactive with the owner, shaped as palm-sized elephants, dogs and cats… so far. The enchantment for the newest one, a dragon, was a lot more tricky then either of them had anticipated. Giant firework dragons didn't much like being shrunk one hundredth of their original size; this was the source of the burning.

"This isn't going as well as planned, Georgie," Fred smiled with trepidation, "there's too much smoke." Both twins watched uneasily as the small firecracker huffed and puffed.

"Should I water it down before it explo—" George was unable to finish his questions as the firecracker exploded with such force, it pushed Fred onto the nearby homework pile stacked on his trunk. Unlike Fred, George was off the path of the explosion and was only moved slightly off kilter.

Fred stood up, coughing and hissing in pain, "That went well." He joked.

"Fred, look at you!" George gasped, moving closer to inspect a large and angry red burn along the top of Fred's shoulder, on to his neck and chest.

Fred walked across to the mirror on the wall and sighed, "This was the newest pair of pyjamas I owned." He huffed, taking what little remained of a worn white singlet. George made an exasperated noise over his brother's shoulder, "Oh, right," Fred added hastily, "I suppose the burn sucks too. You're the burn expert of the two of us, fix me."

George sucked a deep breath through his teeth, "That's about six times the size of the burns I've healed before Freddy," he grimaced, "I don't want to get it infected… I think we'll have to visit our dear friend Madam Pomfrey…"

Fred sighed, "You're kidding me? Georgie, it's -" he looked at the small owl-shaped clock on their wall and sighed, "two in the morning, she's going to tell McGonagall again."

Fred was referring to a few weeks ago when he and George had accidentally stuck themselves together at the hair with an enchanted glue like substance after George had wiped his hand through his hair and head butted Fred. Madam Pomfrey was less than impressed with their midnight appearance at her doors and had quickly summoned McGonagall. McGonagall had stuck them with a week worth of detentions with Filch for being out after curfew.

"You need to see someone before morning; I don't want your arm falling off while you sleep…" George laughed a little as he flicked his wand to magic away the papers and potions they were working on.

Fred chuckled too, "'Spose you're right… plus it's starting to tingle a bit." Large pus-filled blistered were beginning to develop on his exposed skin, "I'll go to Pomfrey, you stay here. If we both get caught out again, we won't be able to brew a new batch of dung bombs. One of us needs to be in the dorm each night to monitor the potion."

George sighed, "You're right. Just be careful, yeah?"

Fred nodded solemnly, "Would you like to say bye to my arm?" he smiled cheekily at his brother, "You know, just in case she has to amputate?"

George rolled his eyes, "I'll miss you if you don't make it righty. Good thing you're left handed."

Fred winked at his brother as he left the dormitory beginning to all too familiar trek to the hospital wing.