Disclaimer: I don't own Fred and George, J.K. Rowling does. But they still kick ass.

A Bit of the Twins

By Clansman Sam

Part One: Common Room Commotion

"I," Brendan Brothington stated pompously, "am a Prefect. And you," he proceeded to point a stubby finger in the direction of the two boys before him, "are about to have your names on a detention slip."

"Bloody hell," said the first boy, turning to his companion. "I dunno if I'd like to have a detention. How about you, George?"

The second boy, a carbon copy of the first, looked innocently back at him. "I have the same feeling, Fred. And d'you know what I think?"

Fred Weasely looked earnestly at his brother. "What's that?" he asked.

"I think that pricks like this one-" George Weasely motioned to Brothington- "shouldn't have the right to give out detentions."

"Is that so?" Fred looked back at the Prefect before them. "My business partner and I have come to a conclusion, Brothington. You've got no authority to lock us up. …Seeing as you're such a prick, and all."

The boy before them was looking slightly concerned, but still trying to maintain at least the illusion of control. "Is that so?" he asked snidely. "Well, in that case… double detentions." Smiling maliciously, he poured himself a glass of water from a nearby pitcher and took a sip.

There was a stunned silence. George looked at Fred, aghast. "Double detentions! I… I dunno what to say!"

Fred looked back, equally distraught. "It's outrageous!" he shouted. "And you know what else, George?"

"What's that, Fred?"

"Our pal Brendan might want to look in a mirror."

"Yeah, the potion should be taking affect, right about…"

Brothington screeched in horror as he turned to face the mirror. "Now," George finished. A wonderfully arranged row of greenish-purple boils was appearing on his forehead, slowly spelling out "I AM A TWIT." He turned ferociously back to the twins as the Gryffindor common room exploded in laughter. "You…" he began, but his words became a yelp of pain as he clutched his backside.

"Ah, I'd forgotten we fixed the potion so there'd be boils there, too," George said thoughtfully.

"Yeah. A right pain in the arse, those are." He and George exchanged grins as Lee Jordan jogged over.

"Brilliant!" Lee exclaimed. "Absolutely brilliant!" He glanced at Brendan Brothington, who had attempted to make the lettering on his forehead disappear, instead vanishing all of his hair. "I guess Potions does have its uses, after all…"

Fred shook his head. "No, we didn't learn that from Snape."

George nodded. "Yeah, dear old Severus is too busy vanishing the contents of our cauldrons to teach us anything."

"Come, George, be fair," Fred said diplomatically. "The Brew of Happiness didn't call for ickle Brothington's favorite homework planner."

"Yeah, but the bloody thing wouldn't shut up." George paused to smile at Oliver Wood, who passed by to admonish them on their near detention (with the hint of a smile) and to tell them that Quidditch practice was still on for the next morning, despite predictions of sleet and hail. He then turned to Lee, smiling. "But back to important matters… we got information on that particular brew from a goblin down at the Hog's Head."

"A goblin?" Lee gasped, astonished.

"Yep," Fred said proudly. "Some old nutter-"

"You mean lunatic-" George interjected,

"-but he knew his way around the block when it came to Potions. Told us some pretty useful stuff, actually."

"Such as the Dancing Drought, for instance. Uncontrollable jig-dancing until thoroughly sorry for whatever misunderstanding bore him the bad luck of drinking the thing," stated George, as though quoting from a textbook.

Lee shook his head, happily bemused. "So what did he ask for in return?"

Fred shrugged. "Just a firewhisky or two."

George laughed derisively. "Or five hundred, more like. Drunken psycho…" He stopped short as his eyes moved over Lee's shoulder. "Oh, no. It's everyone's favorite killjoy."

Fred followed his brother's gaze. "Blimey," he muttered, "I can't believe we're related to him…" He fixed his face with a smile as Percy Weasely stopped in front of them. His hair was as bright red like theirs, but the expression on his face bore not the slightest hint of a smile.

Lee glanced from Weasely to Weasely to Weasely, his eyebrows rising. "Um, yeah, well… I should go. I need to… water my cat…" He hurried away.

Fred waved, then turned to his older brother. "'Lo, Perce," he said brightly. "How can we be of assistance?"

Percy didn't bother returning the greeting. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, making sure to part his robes so that his new Head Boy badge was clearly visible, and said, "What you just did to my co-law enforcer ("Is that even a word?" George asked Fred) was completely unacceptable. And, though I may be your sibling, I will not hesitate in expelling you from the Hogwarts premises."

"You wouldn't," Fred murmured.

"We wouldn't survive!" George exclaimed.

Percy nodded smugly. "I'm glad you understand the implications of entering the adult world without the proper skills."

"No," Fred said, "We don't care about that, it's…"

"Mum," George finished. "She'd murder us, no questions asked."

Percy seemed ruffled that his brothers didn't give a wit about their education, but he quickly regained his composure. "Fine. I'm glad you see the error of your ways." He pursed his lips. "I must go. More important matters await. But remember, your O.W.L.s are coming up. Study extremely hard, and your marks might be almost as high as mine!" He smiled loftily and walked away.

"Marks as high as Percy's?" said Fred. "Wouldn't that be special."

"Yeah, really," muttered George. "But that's two close calls in the span of five minutes. "We really should make an effort to be a bit more…"

"Careful?" asked Fred.

George made a face. "Right, but when you say it out loud like that, it just sounds awful."

"Completely," Fred agreed.

Just then, Angelina Johnson walked over to where they were sitting, in two armchairs by the fire, and sat down opposite, looking exhausted. "These O.W.L.s are ruining my life," she muttered.

Fred snorted. "Angelina, O.W.L.s should be the farthest thing from your mind. I mean, look at us, we haven't done a lick of homework this entire year, and we plan to bomb our exams entirely! And yet, we're still brilliant."

"Not to mention good looking," George offered.

Angelina laughed. "Really, it shouldn't be O.W.L.s that are bothering me, but how I'm going to go out with both of you at the same time."

Fred glanced at George. "You know how long I've been waiting for her to say that?" he asked his twin.

"A bloody long time," George answered. "But then, I hear she and Wood fancy each other anyway." He glanced back at Angelina expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah, but what with his rain, sleet, or hail practice regimen, I'm thinking of breaking it off. I mean, you can only do so much in this weather." She gestured to the window, outside of which rain pelted down in sheets.

"Yeah," Fred muttered, "Oliver's really pushing it. And practices during Hogsmeade days, I dunno…"

"Good thing we've got Harry, eh?" George said. Harry, sitting in between Ron and Hermione, glanced up, nodded, and went back to his essay.

Fred shook his head sadly. "Nose to the grindstone, that one. And it's not even O.W.L. year for him!"

George shrugged. "Maybe it's some of Lupin's homework. I did a little about a week ago, it wasn't all that bad."

Fred nodded. "Well, I suspect it's time we headed off to 'bed'," he said, glancing at George.

George nodded. "Yeah, I'm getting pretty 'tired'," he answered.

The two stood and walked over to the portrait hole. "Maybe we'll sleep outside tonight," offered Fred, fully aware that no one who was listening believed a thing they were saying.

Percy moved in to stop them. "NO! No, I won't allow it! Sentence 143 in Section 12 of the Hogwarts School Guidelines states that-"

"Does he ever shut up?" George asked Fred loudly.

"Not even in his sleep," Fred answered. "Sad, really."

Ron laughed. George smiled at him. "Hold the fort for us, little bro," he said. They swung open the Fat Lady's portrait, stepped out, and closed it behind them.

"So, where to?" Fred asked George as they stepped into the darkened corridor.

"Not the tunnel behind Plump Petunia's Poof," said George, referencing a painting. "That ghoul's on Filch's payroll, I'm sure of it."

"Hm… I've got it. Boys' bathroom near the Slytherin dormitories could do with a few improvements, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, Derrick and Bole won't hit the Bludgers so hard after they have an encounter with a Stinksap-shooting toilet."

Fred grinned. "Let's go to it, then." They walked all of two feet when the gravelly voice of Argus Filch, Hogwarts' one and only caretaker, emanated from behind them. Fred and George whipped around. "The Weasely twins," Filch grumbled. "The time has come for you to stop terrorizing this school, I believe." He laughed hollowly. Then came the distinct meow of Mrs. Norris, Filch's evil cat.

"Argus, Argus, dearest Argus…" George began with a smirk, but stopped as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open again, and the gangly, bespectacled figure of Percy came into view.

"I'm here to help, caretaker," Percy said, careful to keep his Head Boy badge in view.

And then the Fat Lady swung open yet again. This time, though, Brendan Brothington stepped in beside Percy. "It's time we put these… these troublemakers behind bars, I'd say," he stated rather meekly. The trio advanced on Fred and George.

"That can't be good," Fred muttered. The twins looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Shall we?" George asked, grinning sheepishly.

"You first, I insist," Fred answered, returning the grin.

George glanced behind him. The three "law enforcers" were closing in. "So much for the Slytherin bathrooms, then," he said, breaking into a run.

Fred dashed along beside him. "I think this'll prove just as exciting," he laughed. The twins skidded round a corner. The chase was on.