Chapter Two
"Boys!" The shrill shriek of Molly's voice filled the cold, unwelcoming manor, making it occupants bolt up in their beds. In a far off corner, Ginny hissed a curse as she accidently knocked over an inkwell over her letter to Luna. She growled as she flicked her wand to remove the ink, shaking her head that her brothers would manage to cause trouble so soon after sunrise. She glanced at the door just in time to see the undoubtedly guilty pair tiptoeing past.
"What did you two do this?" She hissed at them.
"Nothing!" They insisted in perfect unison. The unspoken 'yet' hung around in the air for a moment, making Ginny narrow her eyes as they smiled just a little too innocently.
"BOYS!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked even louder, making them jumps again, and Ginny drop her quill, once again splattering ink over her letter.
"Better get down there before Aunt Gertrude wakes up," Ginny snapped, dreading having the old croon's banshee like shrieks join their mother's ear piercing ones. The twins' identical rapidly paling faces gave her some sadistic satisfaction as she waved them off, once again picking up her wand to vanish the spilt ink from her letter.
Molly stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, foot tapping, and her eyes flashing when Fred and George walked in. They exchanged identical glances before sitting at the table and grabbing a couple of muffins, still hot from the oven.
"Was that your melodious voice calling out mum?" Fred asked around a bite of muffin, savoring the taste.
"Thanks for calling us to get the food while it's still hot, "George added, attempting to shove a whole muffin in his mouth. Molly reached out and smacked his hand, making the fluffy bite of heaven crumble into pieces all over the place. George stared mournfully ate the muffin remains before grabbing a spoon and digging in. They both bit back grins at their mother's rising ire.
"What is this?" she snapped, over emphasizing each word as she waved a piece of parchment around in the air.
"I believe it's a device for writing upon," George murmured, his eyes darting back and forth as he watched the parchment flap around.
"Parchment, I think the kids call it… never had any reason to use it myself," Fred added, his head moving to follow the parchment's flapping as Molly waved it around more violently in growing aggravation.
Curiosity getting the better of him, George pulled out his wand and levitated the parchment from her clutches, headless of her death glare or shriek of fury. He only had time to recognize Lee Jordan's handwriting before a pale, gnarled hand reached out and tore it from him with surprising vitality. Startled, he made the mistake of turning to take it back, only to be nose to nose with a skeletal face with deep, sunken eyes, enough skin sagging in her wrinkles to cover two other faces, and an uncommonly vibrant red hair for someone so deeply aged. George promptly let out a rather loud, girly yelp as he fell back, half on Fred's lap, half on the floor.
"What the bloody 'ells the matter with ye?" the ghastly figure screeched with a Scottish brogue, leaving everyone's ears ringing. Gertrude's mouth remained open, flashes of her rotten teeth visible between her all but non-existent teeth as she continued to yell despite no sound escaping. Her sunken eyes looked puzzled as t her fingers were forced to loosen from around parchment, which floated easily into Fred's waiting hand.
"Fred!" Molly snapped at him scoldingly. Fred held up his hand, his eyes growing icy in aggravation. Gertrude thumped her hand on the table in anger, making Molly snap again, "Fred!"
"Enough!" Fred growled only half paying attention as he froze Gertrude in place, not bothering to pull out his wand and speak the spell. "A potion boiled over, causing a small explosion back at the shop," he summarized tensely.
"The sneezing transporter cookies?" George asked, remembering how unstable the potion had been. Fred nodded, rereading the missive.
"Clean up has to be careful, but it doesn't appear another explosion is imminent," Fred stood, pulling George up with him. "Looks like we'll have to cut the weekend short after all."
"Freeze both of you!" Molly's command stopped them both in their tracks, suspicion shinning in her eyes.
"Let them go," Gertrude's voice was reminiscent of nail on a chalk board, even when she wasn't yelling. All three of them looked at her in shock. "At least one o' ye've developed some sort of power." Her gaze locked on Fred unnervingly. For the perpetually angry woman, the backhanded compliment was like a standing ovation for Fred. Not in the mood for family politics, Fred simply walked out of the room, dragging George behind him.
"We've to hurry and clean up the spill before the ingredients separate," Fred hurried to the front door and grabbed his cloak from the coat rack.
"Go ahead. It should only take a day to clean… I'll just tell everyone it'll take you and Lee the next few days to get it fixed and straightened out," George stepped back away from the rack smiling.
"The hell you talking about?" Fred snapped, obviously still annoyed. "Lee doesn't have the potions expertise to safely help clean up, and that'd take a day with two people cleaning. Me and you."
"No," George said slowly, like he was talking to a five year old, "I don't have the same level of magical expertise as you." George held up his hand and gestured to his pocket that held his wand when Fred opened his mouth to argue, silently pointing out his brother's lack of a need to carry one around. Fred's mouth snapped shut, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he fixed an icy stare on his twin. "Hermione, however, is pretty much universally accepted as one of the greatest witches in history. I'm sure if you explain that we had a family gathering and ask for her help, she'll lend you a hand." George gave his occasionally dense twin a significant look, waiting for the point behind the plan to sink in. When Fred's thunderous glare didn't diminish George added, "That way we don't have to stage that little 'accident' at her flat for you to get out later."
"Oh," Fred uttered, finally catching on. George grinned, resisting shaking his head at how overly focused Fred always became during work.
Reviews make the pen flow faster...