I love Fred and George, they rule and they're awesome. So here's a one-shot! Written from Fred – no, wait, Gred's! – POV.

Disclaimer: I so wish that I was a multi billionaire and richer than the queen but alas, it has not happened as of this day ='[

'Aww.... Look, Forge... they're showing around the ickle firsties around!' I said in delight. Hermione glared at me while Ron moaned and rolled his eyes.

'I know we are, and it's so damn boring...they're all so dull!' Ron moaned. He glanced down at the First Years – who I must say, were a lot shorter than they had been every other year. 'No offence to you lot, of course. I'm sure you're all a lot of fun, deep, deep down.' Ron rolled his eyes as George bent down, squinting as though struggling to see them.

'Where are they? They must be pretty damn small....' he said, sounding frustrated. Hermione glared again.

'Stop it, you two!' she snapped. 'How would you have liked it if some big mean Seventh Years said that to you when you started Hogwarts?'

'We hate to tell you this, Hermione, but they did,' George said, mockingly serious. Hermione really needs to take herself less seriously sometimes.

'Our own flipping brother said a lot of stuff to us on our first day; and he was Head Boy as well! I am sorry to inform you that not all Head Boys and Head Girls are gods, Hermione.' I said, shaking my head disapprovingly. Hermione scowled.

'Oh go away and shut up you two.'

'Hermione Jean Granger!' George and I both gasped, looking at each other in shock horror. 'How dare you say such an inappropriate thing in front of the First Years? They're going to be scared for the rest of their lives now, aren't you kiddies?' I looked down at the First Years expectantly, and they all looked a mixture of confused, scared, overwhelmed and confused. Poor kids – Hermione was not an ideal role model. Fred and I on the other hand...

'Hermione, could you sit these First Years down so we can tell them the correct rules of Hogwarts?' I asked, batting my eyelashes innocently. It obviously didn't work. Hermione scowled and folded her arms.

'And why would I do that?'

'Because they need to learn something today, Hermione!' came the voice of our dear brother, Ronald. George and I grinned; this would be interesting...

'Ugh! Fine then; but you have half an hour maximum! It's not a good idea for them to stay up too late on their first day –'

'Oh Hermione, you sound like my mother,' I said, shaking my head as I looked at the First Years. There were ten of them exactly. Five boys and five girls; just enough for us to keep the Hogwarts spirit alive! I grinned – perfect.

'OK then kiddies...go and perk your backsides down!' George said excitedly, gesturing to the sofa. Hermione scowled and glared disapprovingly. I sighed and looked from her to my younger, eager looking brother.

'Hermione, dear, are you going to stay? Or are you just going to rain on our parade here?' I asked innocently, with my eyebrows raised. Hermione looked torn between disapproval – which was very strong, I mean; she is Hermione after all – and anticipation. Huh; a new emotion coming from Hermione. Eventually she sighed, loosened her arms, which had been folded across her chest and she sat down on an arm chair as the First Years sat themselves down.

'OK, fine, I'll stay, but only to make sure this doesn't get out of hand,' she warned. Ron rolled his eyes at us. She really was an odd prefect.

'So; has this grumpy woman told you anything about Hogwarts yet, other than curfews, house points and detentions?' I asked the First Years, my eyebrows raised – they all shook their heads and Hermione blushed scarlet.

'Tut, tut, Hermione can't teach you lot anything...well. There are a few things you need to know about Hogwarts.' I grinned manically.

'OK then; the first rule at Hogwarts is, Professor Snape is the voice of God,' George said dramatically, his eyes wide. The first year's followed suit, their eyes widening in amazement. Hermione scowled as Ron grinned. This was going to get interesting.

'Second rule; if you are ever sneaking out after curfew, you must always, er...slip into Professor Dumbledore's Office, and retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor to protect yourselves if necessary,' I said, nodding sincerely. A tiny First Year Girl raised her hand hesitantly.

'Yes?' I asked, as though taking a serious class.

'Erm, Mr Weasley...sir...isn't that called breaking and entering?'

'What?' George gasped. 'Who told you that nonsense? It's only breaking and entering if you don't like the person who you're about to steal – no, I mean borrow from. For example, taking a broom from a broom cupboard is breaking and entering because nobody likes Filch. And you all like Professor Dumbly-Dore, don't you?'

The First Years all nodded sincerely, taking it all into stride. George grinned and moved onto rule number three.

'Next rule is...every Thursday is Naked Thursdays in the Common Room, and that day is also known as Hug a Slytherin Day. The rules tie in with each other, don't you see?' George said, his eyes narrowing. Hermione tsked loudly, but we all ignored her. I was right; she was just going to rain on our parade. Such a boring, boring girl...She'd get nowhere in life with her attitude towards fun.

'Rule Number four...The standard uniform for Potions class is a "DEATH EATER AND PROUD OF IT" shirt,' I said, nodding. 'I would show you mine, but it's being washed. Some Slytherin fainted on it because they were so jealous I had such a cool shirt, and, well, I don't want to get Slytherin germs.' I shrugged indifferently and Hermione's jaw tensed. Well she was not going to ruin this for us!

'Number five...now this is an important one,' George said warningly. 'I guess you all enjoy Quidditch?' All but two of the sad, sad First Years nodded. 'Well, the chant for Gryffindor's Quidditch Team is...' he looked at me mischievously and I nodded. Time for a short show.

'Draco Malfoy takes it up his arse...takes it up his arse...takes it up his arse...oh! Draco Malfoy takes it up his arse...and that is how it goes!' we both chanted in time, doing some weird little jig thing we'd figured out during the summer. We both bowed, expecting applause, but none came. The First Years looked scared stiff. I sighed.

'Don't any of you know who Draco Malfoy is?' I asked exasperatedly. They all shook their heads, apart from one.

'You!' George barked, causing the First Year girl to jump. 'Who is Draco Malfoy? Wait, he's not your maid is he? Because if he is that'd be so –'

'He's not my maid!' the little First Year squeaked. 'My Dad just told me that his Dad's a very bad man, and that the whole family is, well-' the girl broke off blushing scarlet and she leant back in her seat, obviously trying to hide herself. George and I both burst into applause.

'Bravo, Maisy! You don't mind if I call you that, do I?' asked George, not waiting for an answer. 'Anyway, we could not have said it better ourselves. Draco Malfoy is an arse. And that is the chant for Quidditch. Do not wear it out, and we suggest that you only sing it in big groups. When you see a small, ferret like boy whimpering and crying, that's him. Take note little minions.' George nodded sincerely and Ron snorted with laughter.

'Anyway....rule number six!' I started excitedly, sitting down again and grinning manically. 'You know dear old McGonagall?' I asked, saying her name as though she was my lifelong friend. We were far from it. The First Years nodded again; I don't think they're able to speak or something. 'Well; not many people know this, but she loves it when people call her McGoogles. It's like a little pet name – and she also likes it when you pat her on the head while saying it.'

I looked the First Years up and down.

'Well...you may need a chair to do that considering your sizes.' George guffawed loudly.

'So; the next rule, our dear friends. Our wonderful Headmaster, Dumby-Bore –'

'Dumbledore,' Hermione snapped, correcting him. Two First Years actually shushed her. Huh; maybe I was warming to this lot after all.

'Yes...him...Dumbo, or whatever his name is,' said George fervently, waving one hand. 'Anyway, he is a tough old cookie, but during his speeches, he appreciates your input. At the end of his speeches, feel free to stand up and shout, "believe it...or not!" It shows that you've really put some thought into what he said.'

'How come no one did that tonight then?' asked little old Maisy, or whatever her name was. I think Maisy suited her just fine.

'Well, no one did it tonight because we didn't want to embarrass any of you First Years for not knowing what to do,' I said reassuringly. Maisy gave a soft 'oh' and nodded. I grinned.

''Rule number seven, my dear folks,' I started, before Hermione very rudely interrupted me.

'How many more are there, Fred?'

'I do not know who this Fred is you talk about, all I know is Gred and Forge,' I said sincerely. 'But I will forgive your slip up, and the answer is...there is no limited number to the rules. They just keep coming and coming as people make mistakes. We make rules until we can think of no more. Aren't I right, Forge?'

'Right you are, Gred.'

The First Years seemed excited and Hermione folded her arms and crossed her legs, glaring at us as I moved onto my detailed description of rule number seven. Quite an important one, if I do say so myself.

'Did you know that you can earn extra house points by building a tree house in the Whomping Willow?' I told them happily. Their eyes all widened with excitement as they sub-consciously all looked out of the window.

'Extra points are given to the decor of the house,' George added helpfully. Hermione looked as though she was about to be sick; either that, or throw me and George out of the window. Thinking about it, I bet it was the latter.

'Rule number eight my dear fellows!' George continued. 'Professor Dumbledore does not like to be referred to as "sir" or "professor" or "headmaster" or any of that utter nonsense this bizarre prefect has gotten into your head. His correct term is my liege.'

'Oh what nonsense...' Hermione muttered. I glared at her.

'Hush hush or we'll report you to thy liege.'

'Rule number nine!' I said, getting excited now myself. George and I were in fact making up these rules as we went along. Who would have guessed, huh? But entertaining First Years was entertaining, you could almost call it charity work. 'You know our dear old friend, a Mr Harry Potter?'

All the First Years nodded and Hermione glared harder.

'Well; he really does appreciate it when you file for a life insurance policy for him. It makes him feel kind of...safe, or something. He is a bit of a danger magnet, I must say.'

One First year frowned and raised their hand. I sighed – I was a busy man, did they not realise this?!

'Mr Weasley?'

'Yes, my sweet?'

The First Year blushed deeply. I noticed that they were sitting next to my dear friend Maisy.

'Well...wouldn't Mr Potter get angry if we did that?'

'Oh no, no,' I lied fluently. 'Harry's a lovely little boy. A bit on the rebellious side, I must say, but not at all angry! He wouldn't hurt a fly!'

I heard George stifle a laugh. Yeah right...Harry Potter – The Maniac Who Cracked.

'Rule number ten – a big one for all you, let's face it, idiots out there!' George said brightly. Two First Years frowned; the rest of them laughed. No problems knowing who the dumb ones were then.

'The answer to every – single – question in tests at Hogwarts is 42. Plain and simple – 42; got it?'

They all nodded, but Hermione butted in.

'You two are going to get them in so much –'

'Shush now, Phyllis...' I said soothingly. Hermione scowled and sat back down, for she had jumped up in her anger – if you could even call it anger. Sigh – you mention tests and homework and Hermione launches a full scale attack, no questions asked.

'Rule eleven, my friends! If you really want to get on Professor Snape's good side, then try and speak with a Transylvanian accent around him...' I said mysteriously. I think that the First Years were on the verge of a heart attack at that point. 'It makes him feel at home; he's a vampire you know...' I grinned. 'But not one of those ones who are really hot; I mean like the Count Dracula kind of vampire. And another way to get onto his good side is to help him with his hair.' I sighed, fighting back a grin.

'You know how his hair is...yeah, well, just plain gross? Well, he appreciates it if you sneak into his room at night – or in the day, seeing as he is nocturnal – and you shave all of his hair off. He can't bear to do it himself, you see. He adores his hair. But he'll give you a nice big hug when you do – he's a softie at heart.' I hugged myself, sighing as the First Years stared at me as though I had gone mad. It was too late for that now, wasn't it?

'Rule number twelve-'

'Oh for goodness sakes...' Hermione muttered, looking away from us and the transfixed First Years. This was fun. We should have been able to do our own little ceremony in the entrance hall every year.

'I apologise for that outburst, ladies and gentlemen, Hermione here is a bit moody lately...' George grinned. 'Girl problems I think...' he said in a stage whisper. Hermione glared; she looked ready to murder us. I saw Ron casually take her wand out of her pocket. Good thinking little brother.

'Anyway, the next rule is an important one. All's fair in love and war. If anybody breaks that rule – and by anybody, I mean a student who isn't in Gryffindor, you are allowed to schedule witch and wizard burnings down by the Black Lake on Fridays.'

Hermione gasped. 'You can't tell them that, George!'

George pretended to sob deeply. 'Hermione – we all miss Kenny, alright?!' Hermione, for once, looked confused.

I sighed, it was my turn now and I had the perfect rule. Probably a dangerous one but....what the heck? They were kids, they'd get over it!

'Rule number thirteen, ghosts and house-elves are there to do our homework!' I said brightly, giving the kids a thumb up. They all grinned. Homework – another touchy subject with Hermione – but mixed with her precious House-Elves...

'Shut up, Fred!' she snapped. I shook my head

'Just telling it to them straight, Hermione...do you want them to grow up miserable? Look at their little faces...' I looked meaningfully at the little First Years.

'Pout kids, pout...' I murmured through clenched teeth. I had to admit it. They were pretty darn good at pouting.

'But watch out for the ghosts!' I added. 'They like to slime people occasionally...' I trailed off, my eyes narrowed as though replaying a memory in my mind.

'The fourteenth rule,' George carried on, matter of factly, 'is that it makes Professor Snape feel all warm and fuzzy inside when you call him your mother, and it makes Lucius Malfoy feel the same when you call him you sugar daddy.'

'Wow?' I said, dazed after a moments silence. 'No interruptions on that one? Well that's a first...anyway, rule number fifteen –'

'-hopefully the last,' Hermione mumbled. Ron glared at her.

'Ah, there's the interruption I was looking for!' I said happily, clapping my hands together. 'Congratulations on becoming a classic rebel, Hermione. And no – rule number fifteen is just number fifteen, it is not the last one, or the ultimate one, or the final one, or the eventual one, or the –'

'Just get on with it, Fredrick,' Hermione snapped. I raised my eyebrows. She was getting rebellious that one.

'It helps to have a private army here at Hogwarts,' I said quietly, as though this was a big secret. 'The more people, the more weapons the better. You'll be much safer that way.' I nodded impressively, and all the First Years seemed to think I was impressive too.

George cleared his throat. 'Rule number seventeen! Draco Malfoy really appreciates it when you spread the message that Peter Pettigrew should be paying Narcissa Malfoy child support. He really wants to meet his daddy.'

'I thought that Lucius –'

'Ah, but nobody knows the truth...' I said mysteriously. The truth was I had no answer to that. It was better to be mysterious than stupid, right? Or was I too far gone for that....

'Rule number eighteen!' I said happily. 'Every Saturday is Bring-A-Muggle-To-School day – it doesn't matter which one, they all get thrown in the chipper at the end – and on that night, while the chipper warms us up, we have an open-mike night down in the Great Hall! The theme is normally Death Eater, so you'd better stock up on those masks,' I said, nodding matter-of-factly. The First Years were hanging onto every single one of mine and George's words – we were really good at this!

'Rule nineteen, is an important one,' said George sadly, as though he regretted this. Which I guess, he probably did. Kind of – slightly – somewhere deep, deep down perhaps. Oh who was I kidding, of course we damn well didn't. We weren't Hermione freaking Grangers for crying out loud!

'If you are ever called to a teacher's office, defend yourself. The first thing you say to them must be along the lines of, "I have it on good authority that you have no evidence." Save yourselves kids! And if you really want to impress them, refer to yourself as the New and Improved Baby-Proof Dark Lord!' George said desperately. Hermione had gone scarlet with anger now; the kind of red Ron's ears went when he was mad. Oh God – they were perfect for each other! Aw, I had to mention to mum; she'd go crazy with happiness.

'Rule twenty!' George and I said in unison, grinning. This would wind our dear sister up. 'You know our dear little sister, Ginevra Weasley?' Nobody knew her of course, but they would soon. 'Well, if you ever want to know how to strangle a chicken, just go and ask her and she'll –'

'ENOUGH!' Hermione cried, jumping up. 'You two have been telling them this – this – rubbish for ages! Get to bed! All of you! Go, or I'll take points off of your houses! NOW!' She looked hysterical; a sign that this had definitely been worth it. As they ran up the stairs, George slipped out of his chair, running to the bottom the staircase.

'And remember that breaking any of these rules results in feeding to the three headed dog named Fluffy in the Forbidden Forest!'

The footsteps upstairs quickened manically.